T-shirt variations on the I LOVE FLORIDA theme while our clothes dried. Jamie and Stella had shoes in their bags, but I, having no bag, had no shoes either, so Charlotte gave me a pair of flip-flops from her own closet. After everything I’d been through, I’d thought I couldn’t be surprised by people anymore. But Charlotte proved that I could.
Stella was already wearing a spare T-shirt of Jamie’s (the yellow one, with the text I AM A CLICHÉ ), so Jamie and Iwere left to pick our poison, so to speak. He ended up with an I FLORIDA shirt. I picked WELCOME TO THE SUNSHINE STATE . There weren’t a lot of options.
I was changing into my shirt (and matching boxers! Wasn’t I lucky?) in the tourist shop bathroom when a voice said, “You look retarded.”
I looked up at the mirror. My reflection looked ridiculous.
“Yeah. Well. You don’t look so hot yourself,” I said back.
And so it was that the three of us, dressed like tourists, started hoofing it along the highway, getting whiplash every time a car passed us, which was a lot. Between the scorching heat and the insect-thick air, I thought it couldn’t get worse, but then it began to rain.
The sky opened, and we were instantly drenched; the water was warm enough that it felt like the clouds were sweating on us. Our faces mirrored expressions of misery as we ducked off to the side of the highway under a large tree that was still not quite large enough.
“My biscuits are burning,” Jamie said, taking off his shoes. The skin over his toes was cracked and bleeding. “Does anyone know how to start a fire?”
Blank stares.
“So we can’t start a fire,” he said. “We can’t fly. We can’t create a force field. We are the most bullshit superheroes.”
I pushed my limp, sodden hair back from my face. “Faulty premise.” I knew what he meant, but still. “Though, Stella’s not so bad.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
I pouted. “That hurts my feelings.”
“Jamie’s right, though,” she said. “And the list of stuff we can’t do is even longer—we can’t use credit cards, we can’t call our parents, we can’t rent a car—”
“We might be able to steal a car, though,” Jamie said.
The two of us turned to him at once. “I mean, not like with hot-wiring or anything. I have no idea how to do that shit. I just meant—I might be able to talk someone into giving us their car?”
“Lending it,” I added helpfully.
Jamie nodded with enthusiasm. “Lending it. Exactly. If someone comes along.”
“Do you even have your license, Jamie?” Stella asked.
He feigned surprise. “Was that a short joke, Stella? Have our dire circumstances caused you to develop a sense of humor?”
“It was an age joke, actually. And an appearance joke. You have a baby face.”
Our circumstances were dire, though. We had no car, no money, no food, and no dry clothes. The hours passed, and therain continued its assault, and we grew wetter and hungrier and colder but had no choice but to keep walking, me in plastic flip-flops that were murdering my feet.
The rain finally stopped as daylight dwindled into dusk. The sun bled into the clouds, coloring them pink and orange and red. We trudged up the road, which was framed on the shoulders by dense trees and creepers. After an eternity we came upon a gas station, if you could call it that. There was one pump, and the tiny clapboard building behind it listed precariously to one side; a small junkyard squatted in shadow beside it. A plastic doll head with only one eye was impaled on the broken wooden fence.
Jamie huddled closer to me. “This is serial killer territory.” He linked arms with me and Stella. “United front,” he whispered. “They can smell our fear.”
I would have liked to pretend that I wasn’t as nervous as he was, but . . .
I dipped my hand into the waistband of the boxers to make sure my scalpel was still resting against my skin. It was. The warm
Stella was already wearing a spare T-shirt of Jamie’s (the yellow one, with the text I AM A CLICHÉ ), so Jamie and Iwere left to pick our poison, so to speak. He ended up with an I FLORIDA shirt. I picked WELCOME TO THE SUNSHINE STATE . There weren’t a lot of options.
I was changing into my shirt (and matching boxers! Wasn’t I lucky?) in the tourist shop bathroom when a voice said, “You look retarded.”
I looked up at the mirror. My reflection looked ridiculous.
“Yeah. Well. You don’t look so hot yourself,” I said back.
And so it was that the three of us, dressed like tourists, started hoofing it along the highway, getting whiplash every time a car passed us, which was a lot. Between the scorching heat and the insect-thick air, I thought it couldn’t get worse, but then it began to rain.
The sky opened, and we were instantly drenched; the water was warm enough that it felt like the clouds were sweating on us. Our faces mirrored expressions of misery as we ducked off to the side of the highway under a large tree that was still not quite large enough.
“My biscuits are burning,” Jamie said, taking off his shoes. The skin over his toes was cracked and bleeding. “Does anyone know how to start a fire?”
Blank stares.
“So we can’t start a fire,” he said. “We can’t fly. We can’t create a force field. We are the most bullshit superheroes.”
I pushed my limp, sodden hair back from my face. “Faulty premise.” I knew what he meant, but still. “Though, Stella’s not so bad.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
I pouted. “That hurts my feelings.”
“Jamie’s right, though,” she said. “And the list of stuff we can’t do is even longer—we can’t use credit cards, we can’t call our parents, we can’t rent a car—”
“We might be able to steal a car, though,” Jamie said.
The two of us turned to him at once. “I mean, not like with hot-wiring or anything. I have no idea how to do that shit. I just meant—I might be able to talk someone into giving us their car?”
“Lending it,” I added helpfully.
Jamie nodded with enthusiasm. “Lending it. Exactly. If someone comes along.”
“Do you even have your license, Jamie?” Stella asked.
He feigned surprise. “Was that a short joke, Stella? Have our dire circumstances caused you to develop a sense of humor?”
“It was an age joke, actually. And an appearance joke. You have a baby face.”
Our circumstances were dire, though. We had no car, no money, no food, and no dry clothes. The hours passed, and therain continued its assault, and we grew wetter and hungrier and colder but had no choice but to keep walking, me in plastic flip-flops that were murdering my feet.
The rain finally stopped as daylight dwindled into dusk. The sun bled into the clouds, coloring them pink and orange and red. We trudged up the road, which was framed on the shoulders by dense trees and creepers. After an eternity we came upon a gas station, if you could call it that. There was one pump, and the tiny clapboard building behind it listed precariously to one side; a small junkyard squatted in shadow beside it. A plastic doll head with only one eye was impaled on the broken wooden fence.
Jamie huddled closer to me. “This is serial killer territory.” He linked arms with me and Stella. “United front,” he whispered. “They can smell our fear.”
I would have liked to pretend that I wasn’t as nervous as he was, but . . .
I dipped my hand into the waistband of the boxers to make sure my scalpel was still resting against my skin. It was. The warm
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