“I don’t know how cool I am,” I said.
“We’ll see,” Bee said, nodding as she put the half-smoked joint back in the lunch box. “Oh, we will see.” She giggled and lay back in the grass, closing her eyes.
I fell back beside her and started to read Sandman, holding the book up above me to shield my eyes from the sun. I was quickly caught up in the story. As people all around the world fell asleep and never awakened again, I lost track of time. The Lord of Dreams managed to escape after decades of imprisonment to try to rebuild his life. The sleepers woke up to find themselves in bodies they didn’t recognize, subject to the consequences of abuse while they were helpless. Finally, as the Lord of Dreams descended into hell, I put the book away.
Sitting up, the afternoon heat seemed to pulse and throb. I glanced over at Bee, who was in a sort of trance, half-asleep, half-awake. “What’s the time, anyway?”
“Four,” she said as she yawned and flopped back onto the grass.
“Shit,” I said, scrambling to jam my notebook in my bag. I heard the buses hiss into motion as I stood up and ran around the corner to find a mostly empty parking lot.
“Miss your ride? Shitty,” Bee said. “Anybody you can call?”
“Dad doesn’t get off until six.”
“I’d give you a ride,” she said, “but I don’t drive stoned, which is super, super what I am right now. Stoned like a medieval witch…” She snickered dreamily at her joke.
“I have to walk then,” I said.
“I wouldn’t,” Bee said in a singsong voice. “High’s 113 today. Heat-stroke territory.”
“Teenagers don’t get heat stroke though, right? I mean, logically, people lived in the South for a long time before air-conditioning.”
“Your funeral,” she said with a lazy wave. “See you around if you don’t die.”
*
Sweat poured down my back as I walked along the shoulder of the road. After the first thirty minutes I had covered two of the six miles, but I panted and dragged my feet. I thought about calling Dad, but didn’t want to bother him on my very first day. I made it another mile, but my knees ached and my bare calves stung, scratched up from the brambles. My tongue felt dry, and my head throbbed.
I barely registered as a black car blasted by, then reversed to a stop on the shoulder beside me.
The window rolled down and a pale girl with short dark hair leaned out. “Need a ride?”
“Nah,” I slurred, “I don’t wanna trouble anybody.”
She turned to someone in the backseat. “I don’t care what she said, Chloe, just get her in here before she passes out.”
A girl with a curly red mane and freckles appeared, squinting painfully in the bright light. She wore a checkered work shirt unbuttoned at mid-chest and rolled up at the sleeves. Without saying a word she took me by the arm and walked me to the rear left seat.
“Really, it’s okay…” I said weakly, but I closed my eyes as the cold air-conditioning blasted across my face. “I hope you guys aren’t kidnappers.”
“We’re not kidnapping you,” a petite girl with blond hair and innocent eyes said from the front seat, her brow furrowed with worry.
“She’ll come to her senses,” the driver said as we pulled back onto the road. “Just give her some water.”
“My name’s Anna,” the blond girl said. I opened one eye as she gave me an excited little wave. “What church do you go to?”
“Don’t mind her,” the driver said. “It’s literally the first thing she asks every person she meets. I’m Layla. Freckles is Chloe.”
“Amanda,” I said.
The girl with the red hair nodded and said “Hey” as she pulled her seat belt back on.
“A person’s faith says a lot about them,” Anna went on. “It’s a good conversation starter.”
“I don’t actually go to church anymore.” I felt a stab of guilt remembering how long it had been since I had gone to church, though I hoped God would understand why. “I used to go to Calvary Baptist, though, down near Atlanta.”
Anna clapped and bounced in her seat. “She’s a Baptist!” she said happily as the other girls rolled their eyes.
“How many people do you know in this town who aren’t Baptists?” Layla said. “How many people in the whole South?”
“I know some Lutherans,” Anna protested, squaring her shoulders.
“Here.” Chloe handed me a water bottle from her backpack. I rasped a thank-you and guzzled half the bottle, spilling water on my chin and shirt.
“You hungry?” Layla asked, turning to me from the front seat. “I bet she’s hungry. Let’s grab a bite.”