Reunited (14 page)

Two hours into it and they’d gotten giddy. Either that, or they all had heatstroke.

“Here sheddy, sheddy shed,” Tiernan called in a bad Southern drawl. “Don’t you go hiding on me, now.” She tugged on a clump of kudzu, but it didn’t even budge.

“Oh, won’t you take me out in the sunshine? Won’t you put your hand inside mine?”
Ever since they’d finished with the groundwork, Summer had been randomly belting out the chorus to “The Great Outdoors” (the hit single off of Level3’s last album).

Gert had lent them all “work shirts,” all size XXXL. Alice got stuck with a mustard-yellow V-necked tent. Summer’s was a plain white tee, covered in oil stains, but she’d looped a piece of kudzu around her waist, somehow making it look almost chic. Tiernan’s was powder pink and hung to her knees. Between that and the pigtails she’d made to keep the hair out of her eyes, Alice had declared that she looked like the world’s dirtiest baby.

“Either that or a cartoon character,” Tiernan said, ripping
another handful of kudzu off the shed. “Like I should have my own show on
Adult Swim
or something.”

Summer unlaced a vine that had weaved its way through the shutters. “You know who I think you look like?”

Tiernan shook her head. She wasn’t sure she
wanted
to know.

“You look like
you
, back when we first met.”

“Oh, my God!” Alice gasped. “Hair in ponytails, no makeup, soccer shirt two sizes too big . . .”

“‘Oh, won’t you take me out in the sunshine? Won’t you put your hand inside mine?’”
Tiernan sang it loud and a little off-key. It wasn’t her favorite Level3 song, but she had to admit, it was catchy.

Next thing she knew they were all belting it out at the top of their lungs.

“‘I’ll follow you, through the snow. I’ll follow you, I won’t let go. The air is cold, your hand is warm. So lift me out from my own storm. Oh, won’t you take me out in the sunshine . . .’”

A half hour later they had stripped the shed bare. It made Tiernan a little sad to see it like that. The kudzu had made the shed unique, almost magical. Now it was just a plain white shack, all of its imperfections glaringly exposed in the bright West Virginia sun. The paint was chipped, it was missing shutters, the roof was uneven and saggy.

Gert ambled over with a carton of lemonade and some plastic cups, standing next to the girls to admire their work.

“You done good,” Gert pronounced as she poured their
drinks. “So good I decided I’m only gonna charge you a hundred bucks for the van.”

“Thank you so much, Gert,” Alice gushed.

“Thank you,” Tiernan and Summer echoed.

“And if y’all want showers . . . you can just go inside the house and help yourselves.”

They gulped down their lemonades, then Alice and Summer rushed off to the van to grab towels and clean clothes. But the only thing Tiernan took out of the Pea Pod was her camera. Gert was happy enough to pose in front of her newly unearthed shed. And despite the blank space where her tooth should have been, Gert smiled wide.

“SNOW CONE”

WHEN I WOKE UP

AND LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW

I DIDN’T BELIEVE IT

EVEN WHEN I SAW IT

WITH MY OWN TWO EYES

SO WE PUT ON OUR BOOTS

AND WE WANDERED IN THE YARD

WE CAUGHT SNOWFLAKES ON OUR TONGUES

WE WERE CAUGHT BY SURPRISE

I DIDN’T BELIEVE IT

TILL YOU POURED SUGAR ON SNOW

I DIDN’T KNOW

LIFE COULD BE SO SWEET

—from Level3’s second CD,
Rough & Tumble

WHEN SUMMER OPENED HER EYES AND SAW THE STRIP MALL, FOR
a second she thought she was back in Walford. There was a Radio Shack, a GameStop, a sketchy-looking Chinese takeout. Then she realized she was alone in the Pea Pod and they didn’t have Piggly Wiggly supermarkets up north.

She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she noticed Alice and Tiernan walking toward her from across the parking lot, each of them swinging a white plastic Piggly Wiggly bag. Summer had always been fascinated by places like this—these ugly stretches of strip malls, fast-food joints, big-box stores. They were part of a game she played with herself to try to see through the current landscape and get a glimpse of how the land used to be. Sometimes it was impossible, but here she could make out the ghost of the farm that once was—cows in a lush grassy field over there, and, beyond it, a creaky red farmhouse.

In reality, the place looked identical to the one they’d passed yesterday back in West Virginia. Maybe the whole country looked like this.

“Where are we?” Summer asked as Alice opened the door.

“Welcome to Lucky Kentucky!” Tiernan said in a bad Southern drawl.

After they’d left Gert’s, they all agreed that (a) West Virginia was cursed, and (b) no matter how much anyone had to pee, the Pea Pod would not pull over again until they’d crossed the border into a better state.

“Okay, ladies,” Alice announced. “Which one of you is up first for your Pea Pod driving lesson?”

Summer stretched her arms and let out a long yawn. She vaguely remembered drifting off to sleep while Alice was in the middle of a tirade about how sick of driving she was.

“Not it!” Tiernan chirped before Summer could snap out of her yawn and answer.

“Okay, then you’re making the sandwiches,” Alice ordered.

Summer wasn’t in the mood for a driving lesson—
she had barely woken up—
but once again, Tiernan and Alice had steam-rolled her.
Classic.

“You realize I don’t even know how to drive a stick, right?” Summer asked.

“Well, you gotta learn sometime,” Alice said, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “Now, getting it into first is the hardest part.”

Alice went on, detailing the basics of a manual transmission while Summer positioned herself behind the wheel.

“All you want to do is just give it the tiniest bit of gas,” Alice instructed, “but make sure you wail on the clutch at the same time.”

Well, here goes nothing.
Summer took a deep breath and started up the Pea Pod. She could feel Alice’s eyes on her as she gently pressed the gas pedal and shifted into gear. But the Pea Pod just jerked forward, then stalled out.

“You see what I mean?” Alice asked. “It’s all about the timing.”

When wasn’t it about the timing? After all, if Jace hadn’t dumped her, she wouldn’t be stuck here in Alice’s Auto School.

“Maybe it should be Tiernan’s turn.”

“You’re doing fine; just give it another try,” Alice said.

Clutch, shift, gas. Clutch, shift, gas.
Summer repeated the order in her head as the van stalled out again, then a third time.

“Shoot!” Summer slammed her hands against the steering wheel as the Pea Pod stalled the fourth time in a row. “It’s impossible.”

“Don’t wuss out now,” Tiernan said with a mouth full of PB&J. “You’re just getting started.”

“Give it one more try,” Alice pleaded.

Summer swept her hair out of her eyes and turned the key in the ignition. If Jace were here, he’d offer to take over for her. But at the moment, no one could get her out of first but herself.

Clutch, shift, gas . . .

“There you go!” Alice clapped excitedly as the Pea Pod chugged forward. “You did it!”

“Woo hoo!” Summer said sarcastically, but she couldn’t
squelch the look of pride on her face if she tried. The Pea Pod was actually moving forward, and best of all,
she
was driving it. After Summer had circled the lot a few times, Tiernan placed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on her lap. Grape jelly leaked through the crust onto her bare leg.

“Oh, no thanks,” Summer, said handing the sandwich back. “I’ll get myself something later.”

“But I thought PB and J was your favorite,” Alice said.

Summer caught Tiernan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Not everyone can eat Hostess snack cakes all day long and manage to stay a size zero.”

“Oy vey, don’t tell me you’re one of those . . .” Tiernan sighed.
One of what? The health-conscious? The non-obese?
No one Summer knew ate peanut butter anymore. A spoonful of the stuff practically had as much fat as a person was supposed to eat in an entire day. Not that anyone had consulted
her
on the sandwich choices.

Alice put her half-eaten sandwich on the dash. “What do you think, Summer? You ready to take it out on the open road?”

“That depends,” Summer said. “Were you guys
hoping
to die today?”

“You’ll do fine,” Alice scoffed. “Just give yourself ten minutes to drive around the little roads before you take it on the highway.”

Summer sighed and headed for the exit, shifting perfectly at
the stop sign, then again when she pulled out onto the main drag.

“You do realize I have no clue where I’m going,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alice said. “This is just for practice.”

“But whatever you do,” Tiernan warned, “make sure not to cross the West Virginia border.”

Summer stalled out at the first set of stoplights, but she made it through the next two without a hitch. After a few more miles, it was hard to remember why the clutch had seemed so tricky in the first place. Kind of like her anger at Jace. Last night’s crying jag seemed so far away. Today life didn’t feel nearly as tragic.

“No freaking way!” Alice shouted excitedly. “Look!”

She pointed at a blue-and-white truck a few cars in front of them. On it was a cartoon painting of a snowman, dripping with all the colors of the rainbow. Above him were the words
MR. FROSTY’S SNOW CONES
.

Tiernan read the tagline aloud: “‘If you want to be cool, come chill with Mr. Frosty!’”

“This is amazing!” Alice said. “It’s totally a sign!” She held up the map they’d made last night, her finger on the collage of the snow cone smack dab in the middle of Kentucky.

Alice and her signs. As a girl, they’d all convinced themselves that they had some kind of “magical connection” with the band. It started in Strawberries Records at the Walford Mall while they were reading the liner notes off that first
Level3 CD (they’d all burned themselves copies by then) and noticed that track one was called “43,” the same number as Tiernan’s soccer jersey. Then they saw track four: “Skipper,” the name of Alice’s dog. Track eight was “Summertime Girl.” Later, they’d gone online and learned that Level3 toured in a VW van that was just like the Pea Pod. The “Banana Boat” was the same year and everything—only school-bus yellow. Of course, the guys had ditched it for a real tour bus as soon as the band got big.

“Don’t lose him; he’s signaling!” Alice cried.

Summer followed Mr. Frosty down a side street. Two miles later, the landscape was all trees and farms.

“Don’t you think we’re getting a little far off track?” Summer asked.

“We’re still on pavement,” Tiernan said, her mouth full of peanut butter.

Alice looked out at the scenery. “Let’s give it one more mile.”

Exactly .9 miles later, Mr. Frosty turned into an elementary school parking lot. Alice and Tiernan were bouncing in their seats like a couple of two-year-olds, chanting, “Snow cone! Snow cone! Snow cone!”

At least snow cones were fat free.

The human Mr. Frosty was a bookish-looking guy in his thirties. All around the inside of the truck he’d taped pictures of a woman and a little boy.
Mrs. Frosty and Frosty Junior?

Summer stared at the long list of flavors.
Cantaloupe, coffee,
raspberry cheesecake.
There were so many to choose from, it was overwhelming.

“I’ll have a purple plum, please,” Alice said, stepping up to the counter.

“And I’ll try a bubble gum–green apple combo,” Tiernan added.

Summer reread the list. On the one hand, cream soda was a flavor you didn’t see every day. But she was always a fan of anything banana.

“I don’t want to rush you or anything,” Mr. Frosty said, turning to her. “But just to give you a head’s up: The rug rats are coming.” He pointed over her shoulder to the playing field where a swarm of little kids, all in matching yellow T-shirts, had rounded the hill and were tearing across the grass toward his truck. Alice and Tiernan were already at a picnic table next to the school, digging in.

She handed Mr. Frosty a five. “I’ll go with banana, then.” It hadn’t really been a decision as much as a response under pressure.