Page 18 of You Had Me at Hello World
“Justdrive!”
“Okay, okay.” She slams her foot down on the gas and we tear off into the ink-blue dawn.
As we drive, I take in deep gulps of air. My entire body is on red alert, as if it doesn’t know that it’s safe now. It’s like I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
But once a few more minutes pass and nobody tries to kill me again, my heart stops trying to launch itself into orbit.
Once we’re cruising down US 26, Lola finally clears her throat. “Soo… How did your family take the news?”
“My stepdad was a flaming bag of dicks. My mom was a coward. Olive was that Michael-Jackson-eating-popcorn GIF. Exactly what I expected.”
Lola’s gaze falls onto my forearm, red and puffy from Michael’s grip. It’s going to bruise, I can just tell. Even though it’s a balmy June morning, I fish my Pikachu sweater out of my backpack and shrug into it. Best to hide the damage.
To Lola’s credit, she doesn’t comment on the injury. Instead, all she says is, “It’s pronouncedjif. Like the peanut butter.”
“Sorry?”
“You saidgif. It’sjif.”
I frown. “But GIF is short for Graphics Interchange Format…” Before I can begin reciting all the Wikipedia facts I know about this topic, Lola shushes me.
“It’s okay, darlin’. Just accept that you’re wrong. Nobody is perfect.” She pauses. “Like, remember that time you wanted to make our yearbook into an NFT?”
“Okay, I still think that would’ve been a more effective fundraiser than the cheerleaders’ bake sale.”
Lola shakes her head. “That bake sale had so much wasted potential. All they had to do was lace the brownies with pot…”
We spend the rest of the drive yapping and laughing about our time in high school. We don’t even bother with Spotify.
But even though I’m hyped for the upcoming summer, when the highway sign indicates that PDX is the next exit, this cold dread washes over me.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to my best friend.
She pulls up to Departures. “I guess this is it.”
This is it.
There’s this lump in my throat. She’s shipping off to the army before I get back to Chinook Shore. I won’t see her again, at least for a long while.
“Yeah. Thank you so much for driving me.” The words feel so boring. They don’t come close to expressing what she means to me. She’s in, like, every single good memory I have of Chinook Shore. I don’t even know where to begin.
Computers are so much easier to talk to. That one movie about a guy falling in love with Siri… I sort of get it.
I cough. “Um, let me know how much I owe you for gas money—”
“Char, shut up.” Suddenly she’s swallowed me in a bear hug. “Kick those boys’ asses, okay?”
Chapter Nine
When the plane tilts down, I press my face to the window, hungrily absorbing every detail.
Massachusetts rushes toward me. Lush fields edged by suburban rooftops. In the afternoon sunlight, colorful cars in parking lots glisten like these fistfuls of hard candy. The rolling green slowly melts into meandering asphalt roads, and oh, look, there’re skyscrapers now, yawning upward in glass and steel. White sailboats float lazily in the blue harbor. Freaking gorgeous. There are adventures strewn everywhere. All I need to do is reach down and seize the right one.
The landing is rough—I don’t think planes are supposed to bounce like that. As soon as the cabin lights flicker on, people push into the aisle like they’re rushing for Taylor Swift concert tickets.
I turn off airplane mode and scroll the notifications I missed.
From Lola, a TikTok of a raccoon washing cotton candy and being confused when the cotton candy disappears into the water. Mood. I’m the clueless raccoon and my cotton candyis, like, my entire life. I reply with the crying-profusely emoji before I remember she also thinks that one is for boomers.
