Page 15 of Chasing Stardust

Before I can wrap my fingers around the door handle, Jeanie pulls me in for a quick hug.

“Please don’t get killed.” Her hot breath fans across my neck as she sobs out the words.

“I won’t.” I squeeze her a little too hard, then let go and climb behind the wheel of the Betty. Sucking in a deep breath laced with the stench of stale tacos, rotten milk, and Sour Diesel, I slide the key into the ignition. After a few tries, it finally cranks, and the growl of the engine rattles my bones.

G-Lo dips her head through the open window and flicks her eyes to the dash. “Don’t trust the gas gauge. Once it dips below half a tank, start looking for a gas station. If you let it get down to a quarter, it’s probably too late.”

“Got it.” I cringe, hoping I don’t forget that tidbit along a dark, deserted highway.

“Oh, and . . .” She lets out a nervous laugh. “The blower doesn’t work unless you run the wipers. And they’re temperamental. You might need to give the dash a good whack if they don’t come on right away.”

Great.

I force a smile. “Anything else?”

“Uh . . .” She leans in and taps the instrument panel. “Ignore the check engine light if it comes on. It’s glitchy.”

A dull throb pulses behind my eyes, and for a split second, I rethink the entire trip. “Maybe we should have someone look at it before I go?”

“You worry too much.” G-Lo pats my cheek, then presses her glossy red lips to the spot. “This old girl will take good care of you. I’ve been driving her without a problem since before you were born.”

“Oh-kay.” I laugh, but it comes out a little hysterical. “Take care of Jeanie. Make sure she doesn’t have an aneurysm worrying about me out on my own in the big bad world.”

“Leave your sister to me. I’ve got plenty of weed to keep her happy.” G-Lo winks, then backs away from the window.

“Don’t tell me that.” I chuckle, buckling myself in.

“And, Zoey, I know you said you have money, but if you run out of cash out there, let me know. I can always wire you some the old-fashioned way.”

I roll my eyes. “It isn’t 1972. Nobody wires money anymore.”

“I’m well aware of what year it is, but a lot can happen on the road. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Now who’s worrying too much? I have Venmo and Apple Pay, and if I need cash, I have my debit card. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“If you say so.” G-Lo thumps the hood and barks out a raspy laugh. “Go on, now. Get out of here.”

With a quick wave and a silent prayer, I pull away from the curb. Visions of Mom keep me moving forward, but by the time I reach the turnpike, I’m running on pure adrenaline. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I have no doubt it’ll be an adventure.

4

Wild Is the Wind

The Betty has at least ninety-nine problems, but the prehistoric 8-track player isn’t one. The clear blue sky and miles of black pavement inspire me to roll down the windows and blast vintage Bowie from the speakers. Somehow it seems appropriate. Pushing the speedometer needle toward seventy-five, I belt out “Rebel Rebel”—the only song I know all the words to.

More than once, Damian’s face flashes across my iPhone display, and each time, I hit the big red eff-you button. I’m nowhere near ready to deal with him. I have no desire to hear him complain about how my life choices affect him. That doesn’t stop his cheesy grin and dark eyes from getting under my skin. But with every mile I put between us, the easier it gets to breathe. Maybe Jeanie’s right. Maybe it’s time to give Damian his walking papers.

“What now, Mom? Am I doing the right thing here?”

I can’t help wondering what she’d make of my solo trek across the country. Or my joke of a love life. God, it isn’t even the whole joke, just the punch line. What I wouldn’t give to hear her voice again. She always said exactly what I needed at any given moment.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather join the theater club?” Worry stained her voice, and her mouth twisted into a lopsided bow as she gnawed on her bottom lip the way she always did when I was about to take the field.

We were standing at the bottom of the stands, just before the homecoming game junior year. My first year as the top of the pyramid, and the first time Damian paid me any attention. I was a tangled knot of anxiety, but Mom should’ve been thrilled. It was everything she’d ever wanted for me. So why did it seem like she wanted me to quit?

“Like Jeanie? No thanks.” I pulled my laces tight and stood, tugging my pleated skirt over my spankies. “You did cheer. You said it was the most fun you ever had.”

“No. I said it helped shape who I am.” She handed me my blue-and-gold poms, then gave me a crushing one-armed hug.