A Charter to That Other Place

by Sean Boling

  Chapter Twenty Four: Mia

  She made a pact with Beatrice before seventh grade started.

  They were comparing schedules in Mia’s room. Her mother was making up for sending her daughters to their father so often over the summer by offering a week’s work of playdates and room service before the first day of school.

  They had math together second period.

  “If things are as bad as I think they’re going to be,” Mia told her, “I’ll let you know by not sitting next to you in math.”

  “It’s only second period. You really think you’ll be able to tell after just a couple hours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay…” Beatrice was staggered by Mia’s certitude. “But why does it matter if we’re seen together?”

  “You’re not going to want to be associated with me.”

  “I’m your friend.”

  “We can still hang out together after school, at the warehouse. My Mom will drop me off. One good thing about what’s happened is she’ll do anything to make it up to me.”

  Mia tilted her head back and raised her voice.

  “Right, Mom?”

  Footsteps padded down the hall and reached the bedroom door.

  “What’s that, hon?” Candice poked her head in.

  “Beatrice and I were hoping to do our homework in the warehouse again this year. Can you give me a ride?”

  “You don’t want to ride your bikes?”

  “We can’t be seen together.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…you know.”

  Candice opened her mouth wide and nodded slowly.

  “Ah,” she agreed. “Of course.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  Candice thrust up her thumb and smiled.

  “Can I get you two anything?” she offered.

  “We’re good.”

  “Okay, then. Let me know if you change your minds.”

  She leaned in a little farther, then pulled herself up by the door frame and launched herself back into the hall with a “wee” sound.

  “Is she on medication?” Beatrice asked as the footsteps faded from earshot.

  “I don’t know what’s up,” Mia pondered. “I thought maybe she had a new boyfriend, but she swears she’s not seeing anyone.”

  “Maybe it’s an affair.”

  “Whatever it is, she’s keeping it a secret.”

  And within minutes of day one at their newly-integrated middle school, it was clear to Mia that the girls should keep their friendship a secret as well. The Live Oak refugees were furious at having their school taken from them, and according to their murmurs and stares, believed Mia had taken it from them. The only other person they seemed to be aiming their hatred at was Kimmy.

  Mia thought it best to make the same deal with Kimmy as she had with Beatrice, if only to spread the anger and hopefully thin it out.

  “We’d better stay away from each other,” Mia said to her in the corridor when they found themselves walking side by side for a few paces, as though they were being chased by an angry mob and decided to split up. She thought maybe Kimmy wouldn’t understand why she would suggest such a maneuver, but Kimmy agreed with a wide-eyed nod.

  Their classmates did not accept the terms. The ex-LOCA students lumped the two girls together, blaming them for everyone having to re-enter the district, and they quickly managed to convince most of the others to join the movement. Their line of reasoning went that the school was more crowded than it had to be thanks to them.

  Kimmy pushed back by saying to anyone who harassed her that really the snotty LOCAs were just bitter about having to mingle with the low class again, and couldn’t pretend they were superior anymore. Her tactic backfired, though. The ex-LOCAs appropriated Kimmy’s message as their own, claiming her low-class theory in fact revealed her feelings rather than theirs. And since they had the numbers, they only had to persuade a few before it spread amongst the many who didn’t want to fall outside the bubble of convention.

  Unlike Kimmy, Mia didn’t counterpunch her tormentors as the exile developed momentum. She remained stoic, with the thought that maintaining dignity may count for something.

  “Dignity?” Kimmy admonished her. “In a middle school?”

  They started to sit together at lunch by mid-September, realizing all they had during school hours was each other. They were giving their classmates what they wanted, a more convenient way to glare at them both, but it was worth it to be able to deflect the scorn together.

  “That’s just what I call it,” Mia admitted. “I don’t know how to defend myself, and the word ‘dignity’ sounds good.”

  “It does,” Kimmy agreed. “I missed your honesty.”

  “Thanks,” Mia said.

  She scanned the faces, all of whom appeared to talk with their mouths full, and wondered if she was being paranoid or if half of the crumb-covered lips really were talking about the two of them. She’d catch a pair of eyes squinting their way in disdain, and the eyes would turn away toward the other chewers. Then one would gargle a comment through a swamp of dough in their mouth, and the others would laugh as shards of food would fly.

  “Well?” Kimmy asked.

  “What?”

  “Did you miss me?”

  Mia tried not to smile as she kept quiet.

  “Dignity,” Kimmy cracked.

  Mia broke into a brief smile and they surveyed the leering faces together.

  “I feel like a zoo animal,” Kimmy said.

  “Like a couple of pandas they’re hoping will mate,” Mia played along.

  “And we’re both girls.”

  “And they’re too stupid to notice.”

  They chuckled and Mia looked for Beatice.

  She saw her sitting near some typically disapproving classmates, trying to keep her emotional distance from the clique.

  “I feel more sorry for Beatrice than us,” Mia said.

  “Do you talk to her?”

  “Sure. We still do homework at the warehouse. Nobody can see us there.”

  Kimmy whipped her whole upper body in Mia’s direction.

  “All this time I thought you were just as lonely as I was.”

  “It’s been like two weeks,” Mia shrugged.

  “That’s a long time for a seventh grader.”

  “Sorry.”

  Kimmy exhaled and returned to staring at the masticating gallery.

  Mia did likewise and found Beatrice making inquisitive eye contact with her. Mia shook her off.

  Beatrice rose from her seat.

  Mia facially implored her to sit back down.

  Beatrice headed their way.

  Mia held her breath.

  Beatrice arrived and stopped in front of their table.

  “She knows about us now, doesn’t she?” Beatrice asked Mia while gesturing at Kimmy.

  “Yes,” Mia sighed.

  “Might as well join you, then.”

  Beatrice sat down in the seat across from them with her back to the shocked and delighted crowd, many of whom stopped chewing in honor of the moment.

  “She’s just going to use that information against us at some point,” Beatrice continued.

  “Only if you really piss me off,” Kimmy deadpanned.

  “Just as well,” Beatrice straightened up. “I’m as much to blame for Live Oak as the two of you.”

  She breathed deeply and let it out, appearing to reach beatitude by the time she was done.

  “So?” Kimmy sniped. “It’s not like you confessed to anything. Everyone knows you told Mr. Benton.”

  “But I never became a target. It’s not fair.”

  “That’s because you don’t have a psycho mother like Mia does, and you’re not a bitch.”

  “Like you,” Mia confirmed.

  “Like me,” Kimmy obliged.

  “I’m a narc,” Beatrice said. “A snitch.”

  “You were concerned,” Mia reached across the table for Beatrice’s hand
s.

  “Love you, too,” Beatrice locked fingers with her.

  Kimmy rolled her eyes.

  “Barf,” she subtitled.

  “Come on,” Mia scolded her. “Our numbers just increased.”

  “We need to stick together,” Beatrice added. “It’s us against the world.”

  She let go of Mia’s hands and turned to catch her first glimpse of the hostile flock from her new perspective.

  When she turned back toward Mia and Kimmy, she appeared to have lost all feeling in her face.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “What have I done?”

  “You can pretend you came over to make fun of us,” Kimmy offered. “It’s not too late. We’ll play along.”

  “Is it always like this?” Beatrice flicked her head in the direction of the masses.

  The girls nodded.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t cross over sooner.”

  “Aw, see Kimmy?” Mia said. “She’s a great teammate.”

  Kimmy tried to smile, but it came across as more of a pout. She caught herself, then shifted in her seat before making an announcement in the form of a question.

  “But does she know how to make all of this stop?”

  “And I suppose you do?” Beatrice answered.

  “Is there a computer in the warehouse you have access to?”

  Mia and Beatrice looked at each other.

  “Hector’s office?” Mia suggested.

  “Yup. But we’ve never used it,” Beatrice reminded her.

  “We can ask,” Mia said.

  “I’ll ask Hector,” Kimmy cut in, suggestively emphasizing the “I”.

  “He’s our friend,” Beatrice said. “We don’t need you to stick your ass in his face.”

  Mia covered her mouth and bent over to squelch her laughter.

  “Yeah,” Kimmy groused. “Great teammate.”

  “All I’m saying is that we’re pretty sure we can use the computer,” Beatrice backtracked. “Why can’t we use one here, anyway? Or your phone. I assume you’re looking for web access.”

  “Web access that can’t be traced to us.”

  Mia sat up and wiped away some tears with the back of her hand as she exchanged a glance with Beatrice.

  “What exactly are you thinking of doing?” Mia asked.

  “Can I come with you to the warehouse?”

  Mia and Beatrice shrugged at one another.

  “Sure,” Beatrice said.

  “Now can you tell us?” Mia tried again.

  “You’ll see,” Kimmy grinned. “These people are gonna forget we even exist.”

  The girls considered her pronouncement.

  Beatrice spoke up first.

  “I actually like the sound of that.”

  “Me too,” Mia said. “If you said ‘these people are gonna remember our name,’ I’d be nervous.”

  Though when Hector left the girls in his office the next afternoon and told them not to trash the place as he shut the door behind him, Kimmy remarked, “It’s not this place we’re gonna trash.”

  “Whoa,” Beatrice raised her hands in harmony with her eyebrows.

  “That sounds a lot more dramatic than the way you sold it yesterday,” Mia piled on.

  “Relax, you ninnies,” Kimmy waved them off as she sat down in front of the computer. “You’re the ones amping up the drama.”

  She clicked into the web and started typing her way around.

  “Did you notice Hector checking me out?” she said as she worked.

  Mia and Beatrice slapped their foreheads in spirit.

  “Let’s see…” Kimmy thought out loud. “Should we use Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Yik Yak?”

  “For what?” Beatrice asked.

  “Our page. It’s mostly going to be pictures. I guess any one will do.”

  She clicked on “create account” and started to fill in the blanks.

  “Whose email address is that you’re using?” Mia asked.

  “I opened it last night under a fake name.”

  For the name of the page, she typed in “The Dirt Mill” and asked the girls if they liked it.

  “We can’t answer that if we don’t know what you’re doing,” Beatrice snapped.

  “Oh, wait,” Kimmy ignored her. “It needs the name of the school, too. Can’t forget the bait.”

  She made the addition, and then in the text box devoted to a motto or description, typed, “Not your typical school website.”

  “Now let’s take a group selfie and use it for the logo,” Kimmy reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

  “What?” Mia squawked.

  “You said this was supposed to make them forget we exist,” Beatrice said.

  “I’m kidding,” Kimmy put the phone down. “Jeez.”

  She left the picture box empty and activated the site.

  Then she opened a new tab and logged onto a fellow student’s website. She selected and copied a photograph of two popular eighth grade boys, Luis and Darren. They were posturing for the camera, playing up their image as two of the best athletes in school.

  She tabbed back to The Dirt Mill and posted the picture on the new page as its premiere entry. Then she wrote a caption:

  “Who would win in a fight between them? Vote below. Check back for updates and results.”

  The girls bent over each side of Kimmy to get a closer look.

  “Oh my,” Mia was transfixed. “Now I get it.”

  “Are people going to find this?” Beatrice asked.

  “As long as one does,” Kimmy said. “They all will.”

  “So they vote,” Beatrice was still putting it together. “Then what?”

  Mia jumped in.

  “Whoever loses the vote throws the first punch.”

  “You catch on so fast,” Kimmy leaned over and pulled her in for a hug.

  “Come on,” Beatrice remained skeptical.

  “It may take a little while,” Kimmy stood up and stretched. “But it will happen. Just like I knew Hector would check me out.”

  “Please,” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Guys are easy to predict when it comes to girls.”

  “Everyone is easy to predict when it comes to their egos.”

  And she was right.

  “By God,” Beatrice admitted. “She was right.”

  The two boys were rolling around on the dried grass in center court, locked together and unable to get any leverage into their punches. Mia and Beatrice were a few rows back on the far side of the crowd that was gathered around cheering them on.

  “How many days was that?” Mia asked.

  “Four, I think.”

  Kimmy waltzed up behind them.

  “Abracadabra,” she whispered.

  “What did you get for the final tally?” Beatrice asked her.

  “Luis eighty-seven, Darren sixty-five,” Kimmy answered.

  “That makes sense,” Mia said. “Apparently Darren jumped Luis.”

  “It was hard to get an exact number,” Kimmy clarified. “Some people didn’t actually vote, but their comments made it pretty clear who they favored.”

  “I had Darren a little closer,” Beatrice said. “About eighty to seventy.”

  “Would this have worked if they tied?” Mia asked.

  “There won’t be any ties,” Kimmy said. “Somebody will always win.”

  Beatrice turned to her.

  “So there’s more of this coming?”

  “Lower your voice,” Kimmy grinned. “I’ll see you at the warehouse this afternoon.”

  The next time it was two girls, Angelica and Lisle, with the question of who was prettier. Kimmy had to search a little harder to find a picture of them together, but found one deep in the archives of Angelica’s page. It was a selfie of them hugging each other cheek-to-cheek in the backseat of a car.

  “People are going to start making their pages private,” Mia speculated.

  “Maybe a few of them,” Kimmy acknowledged. “But people like attention.
”

  “Not the kind we’re giving them,” Beatrice countered.

  “Any kind of attention,” Kimmy maintained.

  And there was a certain excitement in Lisle’s voice when she approached them at morning recess two days later and asked them if they thought she was prettier than Angelica, and then gave them a rundown of the things Angelica said to her after the poll question was posted on The Dirt Mill, and who was siding with Angelica, and who was siding with her, and the things Team Angelica members were saying about Team Lisle members.

  Angelica, meanwhile, was no less animated when she approached them at lunch that same day and provided her side of the same stories before dashing away to lobby some other students to her cause.

  “We need to close this poll,” Beatrice muttered.

  “Give it one more day,” Kimmy muttered back.

  “I’m not sure I can stand one more day,” Mia sided with Beatrice.

  “That’s what makes it great,” Kimmy snickered. “Nobody else can stand it, either.”

  So they gave it another day, which is all Angelica and Lisle needed to seal their newfound hatred of one another, and alienate themselves from most of their friends.

  “Shouldn’t we post the results of the Angelica-Lisle vote before moving on to the next one?” Mia asked Kimmy as she scrolled through the official school website looking for candidates.

  “Does it matter?” Kimmy asked back.

  “Angelica was lapping her,” Beatrice offered.

  “If those girls weren’t so hard to listen to, I’d say that round was too easy,” Kimmy cracked as she rolled the mouse over a page of pictures as though it was a shooting gallery.

  A shot caught Beatrice’s eye.

  “Hold on,” she said. “What about those two gamers who tutor math in the homework club?”

  The photo of the boys featured them standing in front of a white board filled with algebraic equations.

  “What would the poll question be?” Kimmy asked out the corner of her mouth.

  “Who’s smarter,” Beatrice replied.

  “Who would vote?” Kimmy followed up. “Besides them and their mothers.”

  “Lots of people,” Beatrice maintained. “They’re really rude. You go for help and they make you feel like an idiot.”

  “So all those people who go for math help,” Kimmy snickered. “That’s gotta be, what, ten, twelve people?”

  “They are pretty icky,” Mia chipped in.

  “The people who go for math help?” Kimmy asked. “That’s mean.”

  “No…” Mia started to explain.

  “I know, I know,” Kimmy waved her off. “Look, I’m sorry those two dweebs made you feel like crap in the homework club. But this has nothing to do with brains. This is jungle stuff we’re dealing with. Who’s strongest, who’s prettiest, who’s the biggest slut, who’s got the biggest dick. We only post a question about who’s smarter if it’s with a picture of the two dumbest kids in school. This needs to hurt!”

  Kimmy appeared to surprise herself with that final thought.

  Mia wanted to look over at Beatrice, but waited until Kimmy settled back into her search.

  “Besides,” Kimmy added before Mia and Beatrice could telegraph anything to each other, “if we go after some brains, they might push back and start looking into who runs The Dirt Mill.”

  The office grew quiet. In the warehouse next to them, on the other side of the window, there were thousands of orders being filled, going out to thousands of different places, but all they could hear was the computer hard drive, and Mia was certain she could also hear Beatrice’s thoughts.

  “People are going look into that at some point, anyway,” Mia said. “If they haven’t already.”

  “I haven’t heard anything yet,” Kimmy stayed focused on the screen. “Have you?”

  “Well, no,” Mia admitted.

  “They’re too busy thinking about themselves,” Kimmy explained. “If they knew who was in charge, they’d ask when it was their turn to be on the page.”

  “That’s not what the teachers and the principal are going to think.”

  Kimmy leaned back and exhaled at the ceiling.

  “Okay,” she regrouped. “I was saving this for later, but if it will make you feel better…”

  She opened a tab and went into her own site and grabbed one of her many selfies on display. She pasted it onto The Dirt Mill, then went back into the other tab and looked up Eve’s site, the girl who had been harassing Mia last year, before it became fashionable.

  Kimmy copied a picture of Eve and pasted it next to her own on The Dirt Mill.

  She typed, “Who’s the bigger bitch?”

  Beatrice laughed and Mia said “Oh my God.”

  “That should buy us some time,” Kimmy smiled.

  “Who do you think’s going to win?” Beatrice asked.

  “Oh, I fully expect to run away with this,” Kimmy answered.

  The trio shared a laugh.

  “And when I do,” she continued, “I’m going after Eve. Really play it up with every ounce of pretend anger in my body.”

  But when they posted the results days later, and Kimmy followed through on her promise to further divert any suspicion away from them, her anger seemed very real.

  She shoved Eve down the hall several times in succession, punctuating her shoves with accusations of rigging the bitch contest.

  “Should we step in?” Mia asked Beatrice as they watched the fear widen in Eve’s eyes while Kimmy appeared to gain strength with every push and every charge.

  “You go first,” Beatrice suggested.

  “That would be kind of ironic given my history with Eve.”

  “All the more reason.”

  Mia glanced at Beatrice and acknowledged her point.

  She took a deep breath and walked away from the safety of the gathering crowd. She reached Kimmy’s side and played the voice of reason by putting a hand on her shoulder and telling her it wasn’t worth it.

  “What the fuck do you know about anything?” Kimmy hollered at Mia, then brushed her off and continued to go after Eve even harder.

  Mia groaned, gathered herself, and made a more assertive attempt by stepping between them.

  Kimmy barreled past her and tackled Eve as the crowd bellowed.

  The burly history teacher on morning yard duty, Mr. Fabregas, broke through and pulled Kimmy off of Eve. Before he escorted her to the principal’s office, he looked over at Mia.

  “Bring her to the nurse,” he barked while pointing at Eve, who sat on the ground checking herself for damage.

  Mia watched Mr. Fabregas and Kimmy walk away, hoping for some sort of signal from Kimmy, a turn and a wink perhaps, to let her know it all truly was an act. But that would be a dumb move, she realized, and tended to Eve.

  “I don’t need the nurse,” Eve stood up and snapped.

  “You sure?”

  “That bitch didn’t hurt me. She’s all show.”

  Paranoia splashed across Mia.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked Eve.

  Eve dismissed her with a grunt and turned to find some friends in the dispersing crowd.

  Mia turned to find Beatrice approaching.

  “Did you hear that?” Mia asked.

  “Yeah,” Beatrice arrived. “I didn’t know we had a nurse.”

  “No,” Mia shook her off. “The thing about Kimmy being all show.”

  Beatrice leaked air and smirked.

  “That’s just bitch contest talk,” she said. “Looked pretty real to me.”

  “Almost too real,” Mia nodded. “I hope she didn’t oversell it.”

  The principal bought into her performance. She suspended Kimmy for a week.

  Mia and Beatrice found the first day of her suspension quite relaxing. Kimmy wasn’t there to spur them on to the next scheme, but Kimmy’s schemes had bought them the peace they were able to enjoy.

  As she predicted, nobody was paying them any mind
. All conversations rotated around the fights and arguments breaking out at regular intervals since the debut of The Dirt Mill. And indeed, none amongst the students seemed concerned about the source. If anything, they appeared grateful.

  As evening fell on her first absence, Kimmy called Mia at home.

  “I can’t talk for long,” she said. “I’m grounded. But Grandma is out in the grass looking for Grandpa. Could take an hour, could take one minute.”

  “I can’t believe they grounded you.”

  “Yeah, well even they have their limits, I guess,” Kimmy spoke in brisk, hushed tones, as though held captive. “Can’t say I blame them.”

  “Great performance yesterday,” Mia complimented her.

  “Thanks. Hope I didn’t freak you out.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Sorry about that. Had to keep up appearances.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Speaking of keeping up appearances,” Kimmy pressed on. “I need you and Beatrice to post a poll on The Dirt Mill tomorrow. It’ll look suspicious if the site stops while I’m out.”

  “Oh,” Mia hesitated. “Sure.”

  “Come on,” Kimmy noticed the pause. “You’ve seen how I do it, and it’s already logged in on Hector’s computer. If you need to re-enter the password, it’s ‘upskirt911’.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember to use two people who have some popularity. Nobody from the shadows. Leave them alone. No one cares. And nothing sexual. I think I may have said something about big dicks once, but that was a joke. If it starts to look like it’s run by some kiddie porn adult, the police will get involved. And in that case, poor Hector. Even if we confessed, that’s the kind of accusation that’s hard to live down once it’s out there.”

  “No dicks. Got it.”

  “Or best ass,” Kimmy added. “Anything remotely pervert. Hold on…”

  Mia heard the phone fade from Kimmy’s mouth momentarily.

  “Dang,” she growled back onto the line. “I think Grandma found him. She might be talking to herself, but I can usually tell the difference. Gotta go. Thanks for doing this.”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s good to know we’ve got each other’s backs.”

  Then she hung up before Mia could respond, which was just as well. Mia felt stretched by the idea of having Kimmy’s back, and if Kimmy had listened to her waver, as Mia did earlier in the conversation when asked to post something on the site, it would have added up to an easy case for Kimmy to make regarding the ambivalence of Mia’s loyalty.

  “Everything has to do with backs,” Mia pondered aloud as she and Beatrice rode their bikes to the warehouse the following afternoon. “I’ve got your back, you went behind my back, you stabbed me in the back. Everyone is obsessed with what goes on behind them.”

  “Do you not want to do this?” Beatrice asked.

  Mia pedaled for a dozen rotations. They came upon the barren road that connected the last neighborhood in town to the realization station.

  “We wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for her,” Mia finally said.

  “Riding our riding bikes again,” Beatrice clarified. “Out in the open.”

  Mia nodded.

  “She cleared the way.”

  “So let’s do this,” Beatrice started to swerve back and forth across the empty pavement. “We know the question, we just need to figure out whose pictures to post.”

  Mia joined her in swerve formation.

  “Sorry,” she called ahead to Beatrice. “I’m spaced out today. Are we going with ‘Who will get pregnant first?’ or ‘Who won’t finish high school?’”

  “Pregnant,” Beatrice hollered back over her shoulder.

  “That’s not too sexual?”

  “I don’t think pervs are interested in getting anyone pregnant.”

  “Just thinking of Hector.”

  A pair of trucks rose from the horizon in front of the warehouse. They were single file, but not lined up perfectly, so they could see them both. Beatrice pulled over to the side, knowing that Mia didn’t like riding past the big rigs that drove back and forth from the loading docks, even though the road offered plenty of room.

  Mia stopped next to her. They straddled their bikes and watched the rigs gain speed as they gained distance from the warehouse.

  “You think she might actually pin this on Hector if it comes to that?” Beatrice asked.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried,” Mia replied.

  They shielded their eyes as the trucks passed and scattered grit in their wake. Mia thought she saw the second driver wave, so she waved back with her available arm.

  When the volume of the engines had suitably faded, Mia picked up their conversation.

  “Once we do this,” she said, “we’re in. We can’t claim it was all Kimmy and we were just bystanders.”

  “I’m sure she knows that, too.”

  They remained standing halfway between the town and the realization station.

  “What if we do get called to the principal’s office or the sheriff at some point?” Mia asked herself as much as she asked Beatrice. “What’s the right thing to do?”

  “Deny everything.”

  “If they give us a chance to give up Kimmy,” Mia mixed in a wrinkle.

  “Which I have a feeling would happen,” Beatrice added.

  “She helped us,” Mia said. “She made our lives easier.”

  “By making others miserable.”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “A lot of those people were making our lives miserable,” Beatrice reminded her.

  “Was it that bad? We were pretty good at laughing them off.”

  “How long could we have done that?”

  “It would be a lot of laughing,” Mia acknowledged.

  “Laughing too much hurts.”

  They stood some more. The trucks were long gone, and the only sound on the road was the wind blowing over it.

  “Maybe no one will ever find out,” Mia said.

  “We’re smart enough,” Beatrice joined her in that thought. “We’ll pull the plug before anyone gets around to an investigation.”

  Mia remembered a dream she had about Artie the night before, or maybe it was the week before. She may have had it more than once.

  She dreamed she was invited to a popular girl’s birthday trip to Disneyland, and asked her Mom for some spending money. Her Mom was excited for her, and gave her more than enough. She used the money to take a bus to San Francisco instead. Artie snuck out of school and took her to lunch and a bunch of shops and to dinner. His parents arrived at the restaurant and interrupted dinner. They were very upset. They had surveillance video of them in every place they had been, sitting at tables and walking down aisles and past shelves. They had records of everything they had purchased, recordings of phone conversations, and a satellite map with bright lines marking their paths. Everything was documented. Her Mom showed up and couldn’t stop laughing, which made Artie’s parents even more upset. Mia and Artie looked at each other without any idea how to feel.

  Mia considered telling Beatrice about the dream, but they had been standing for a while.

  It was time to move on and see what was to become of their decision.