At precisely ten twenty-four the next morning, I knock on Elliot’s front door. I’m six minutes ahead of schedule. The rotund Mrs Call-Me-Jo Carter opens the door to greet me.
‘He’s still packing. He started about ten minutes ago.’
‘Of course he did,’ I say. Organisation isn’t a strong suit for Elliot Carter. He’s shoving a couple of shirts into a bag when I enter his room.
‘Glad to see you’re on top of things,’ I say. ‘You didn’t think to pack yesterday?’
He throws some underwear at me. ‘It’s not ten-thirty yet. I’ve got plenty of time.’
Mrs Carter enters with a pile of Tupperware containers, each filled with a different baked snack. There are cookies, brownies, muffins – it’s brilliant.
‘Thought you might need something to keep you going on the road,’ she says, handing me the pile of containers. ‘What’s the point in being young and skinny if you can’t eat your weight in sugar? God only knows I used to be built like you.’ Her eyes go unfocused as she reminisces. Then she snaps back to the present. ‘This is a really good idea. You’re going to have so much fun, and Annabelle will be absolutely thrilled to see you,’ she adds to Elliot.
It takes me a moment to remember that Annabelle and Nessie are the same person.
‘Two minutes, Elliot,’ I warn. Not that I care about the timetable – I just like to pressure him.
‘Plenty of time,’ he says. And, true to his word, he finishes packing with three seconds to spare.
Mrs Carter walks out the front with us. ‘Are you sure you’ve got everything? Pyjamas? Toothbrush? Fresh underwear?’
‘Yes, Mum, I’m sure,’ says Elliot.
We load our bags into the back of Vincent. I pull out my GPS so we can use it later.
‘Come on, give me a hug,’ says Mrs Carter, pulling Elliot in for a tight embrace. Her head sits just under his chin. ‘You too, love,’ she says, opening her arms. I return her hug and then we climb into Vincent, Elliot in the driver’s seat, me riding shotgun.
Vincent is a blue Honda CR-V. Elliot has owned him for nearly two years. He doesn’t have too many fancy features but he’s got air conditioning, a clutch and an engine. What more do you need?
‘Drive safely,’ calls Mrs Carter as Elliot slots Vincent into reverse and backs out of the driveway. He pops the clutch to take off down our street. I can hear Mrs Carter’s full-bellied guffaw even through the windows and over the air con. I send Sophie a quick text: ‘Leaving Elliot’s now.’
We haven’t left our suburb yet but it already feels like an adventure. Never dropping below the speed limit, we reach Sophie’s house within minutes, where she’s waiting out the front, her loaded suitcase by her side. Luke sits on her hip.
Elliot pulls the car up to the curb and I climb out to greet Luke. Well, Luke and Sophie. But mainly Luke.
‘Hah-yee.’
God, that kid is cute.
‘Make sure you behave for Nanna, okay? Mummy misses you already.’ She kisses his cheek and hands him to her mother.
Elliot hoists Sophie’s suitcase into the back of Vincent and we say goodbye to Luke and Sophie’s mum – after blowing several raspberries on Luke’s face, of course.
‘Have fun,’ says Mrs Anderson, and Luke waves as we pull away.
The final stop before our journey truly begins is Teddy’s place. We pull into his driveway and blare the horn continuously until the front door opens. He emerges with a bag in one hand and Christina’s hand in the other.
They share a passionate kiss that lasts an eternity, entirely nonchalant about our jeering through the window and about us telling him to hurry the Schindler’s List up. It would perhaps have been fitting if Teddy were off to fight in a war or something, but we’re only off to Queensland.
Eventually he slings his bag into the back and taps on my window.
‘Hey loser, I’m riding shotgun.’
‘In the back, sunshine,’ I say, taking a bite of one of Mrs Carter’s cookies. We stare each other down for a few seconds until he realises that because I’m already sitting, I have the upper hand.
He gets into the back next to Sophie.
‘Well, my dear children,’ says Teddy as though he were a stadium announcer. Barely two minutes have passed since we left his house and already he’s getting annoying. ‘They said it would never happen. But, alas, they were mistaken. For it seems Theodore C. Block, famed for his failure with the ladies, has finally broken his curse. On the eve of his departure on a death-defying adventure across the country, Theodore C. Block finally rid himself of that bastardly social construction known as “virginity”.’
‘Congratulations,’ says Elliot as ironically as possible. ‘Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to request he cease his annoying habit of talking about himself in the third person.’
I catch Sophie’s eye in the side mirror and we both laugh.
Whether or not we want to hear it, the first hour of the trip is dedicated to Teddy’s recounts of his sex life. He laced his bed with rose petals, lit his room with candles and played romantic music. Basically he acted out every cliché in the book. It’s both remarkably Teddy-like and completely out of character. I feel as if it would’ve been incredibly awkward rather than incredibly romantic.
‘Hence why he believes he should be riding shotgun in this vehicle of perpetual virginity,’ he concludes. I’m not sure if he’s being exceptionally dumb or exceptionally self-centred, given Sophie’s presence.
‘I hope for all our sakes that the infamous Theodore C. Block had the sense to use protection,’ says Sophie.
Teddy holds his hand over his heart and flinches as though he’d been shot. ‘Of course he did.’
‘Moving on … I thought we should go over the outline for this trip,’ says Elliot.
‘Just because you have a remarkable ability to maintain your virginity –’
‘Yeah, we’re done with that conversation,’ interrupts Elliot. ‘Now, we all have licences, so I figured we should take turns driving to minimise stopover times and get to the Sunshine Coast as quickly as possible.’
‘Yeah, about that,’ says Teddy. ‘I can’t drive a manual.’
‘Pathetic,’ says Sophie, sighing.
‘Okay, well at least we won’t die at your hand,’ I say. ‘The rest of us can manage. The GPS says we have another nineteen hours ahead of us, so we can just split that between us – roughly six hours each.’
‘True, but you girls are both on your red Ps.’
I hadn’t considered that. I don’t know about other states but in Victoria you can only drive with one passenger between sixteen and twenty-one years old for the first year you have your licence. Being a year older, Elliot is on his green Ps, so he has no passenger restrictions.
‘But it’s okay,’ says Elliot, reading my mind. ‘Once we get to New South Wales, the restrictions only apply overnight, between eleven pm and five am, so it’s less of an issue. I’ll just take the first shift. I reckon we should reach the border early this afternoon, so one of you girls can take over then.’
‘Great,’ I say. ‘I don’t mind driving.’
‘Me neither,’ says Sophie. ‘I’ll drive whenever I’m needed and it’s legal.’
So we agree to decide on the new driver once we reach New South Wales.
Less than an hour and a half into the trip, as we pass through this town called Seymour, Teddy asks the worst road-trip question in existence: ‘Are we there yet?’
‘Not even close,’ I answer.
‘Well, that’s a shame, because my bladder is quickly filling.’
‘Hold it,’ snaps Elliot. ‘We’ll stop in Shepparton – but only because we’ll need fuel and food, not because you can’t control your bladder.’
Sophie laughs.
The scenery goes by at a blistering speed, though the only sights are fields of browned grass, dead trees and the occasional cow. Non-suburban Australia is beautiful.
Sophie hands me her iPhone so I can connect it to Vincent’s stereo system. I find the cable in the glove box and plug it in. Sophie asks me to play a Taylor Swift album but I refer her to the shotgun rules (an app I have on my phone – yes, I actually do have an app for that), which say that the shotgun passenger gets to choose the music. Instead of Taylor Swift, much to Elliot’s relief, I opt for an Alter Bridge album, which I’m surprised to find in Sophie’s collection.
Elliot, Sophie and I all sing along to the music while Teddy complains about not knowing the songs until we reach the town centre in Shepparton. Elliot pulls up to a McDonald’s, where we all order Quarter Pounder meals for lunch. We then climb back into the car (Teddy racing out to call shotgun), meals in hand. Much to Teddy’s annoyance, the shotgun rider is responsible for unwrapping Elliot’s meal so he can eat and drive at the same time.
We refuel and continue north. It’s one thirty-seven.
‘Oi, Teddy, can you pass me some chips?’ says Elliot.
Teddy groans loudly. ‘What am I, your slave?’
‘You wanted to sit there,’ says Elliot.
‘Fine.’ Teddy digs out a handful of fries and pokes them into Elliot’s cheek.
‘Dude, I’m driving. Do you want us to crash and die?’
‘You moved your mouth.’
‘Just give me the whole thing.’
Teddy groans again and hands the fries over. Elliot sticks the box between his legs so the fries don’t go everywhere.
As shotgun rider, Teddy puts on a rap album nobody but he enjoys, which I’m sure is his intention. Luckily we only have to endure an hour of it, because just after two-thirty we cross the Murray River and arrive in New South Wales.
‘When we switch drivers,’ says Teddy, ‘I need to get out for a bit. The coke from Macca’s is now ready for expulsion, significantly warmer than when I drank it.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ Sophie and I say in sync, but Elliot stifles a laugh.
Elliot pulls the car over in a small town called Tocumwal, which sits on the river, and Teddy goes to pee. We stand stretching our legs in the sun and Elliot flips the green P plate over to the red side. Sophie stands with her hand on the front passenger door, claiming shotgun. She just wants to listen to Taylor Swift.
Teddy returns after an eternity, calls shotgun and is promptly told Sophie’s hand has beaten him to it. We jump back in … and I stall the car. I indignantly blame the clutch for being looser than I’m used to but the fault is entirely mine and the jeering is justified.
My second attempt is more successful. Elliot closes his eyes and dozes in the back seat so he can rest and get ready to drive tonight. Sophie and I have both suggested finding a motel to save him driving overnight but he wants to spend more time with Nessie and doesn’t want to waste time just because it’s dark.
I haven’t really given much thought to what we’ll do once we get to Scotland. I mean, I know we’re going to surprise Nessie but it doesn’t seem likely that her family will want us all staying in their house. I guess we’ll find some form of accommodation but we don’t exactly have a real plan. All I care about is lying on the beach and pretending uni preferences aren’t a thing, to be honest.
‘I wish The Christina was here,’ says Teddy.
‘The Christina?’ I say. ‘It’s a term of endearment.’
‘Sounds like it, too.’
‘Why was she even at your party? Who’d she come with?’ asks Sophie, who doesn’t yet know all the details.
‘She was the plus-one of a friend. They went to school together or something.’
‘How serious is it?’ I ask.
‘Serious enough for her to get all up on this. More than once, I might add.’
‘Can you have a serious conversation for, like, five minutes?’
‘There’s a lot of things I can do in five minutes.’
‘Jesus, Teddy,’ says Sophie.
‘Cut the bull and have a real conversation.’ I’m getting annoyed and I’m not even sure why. I catch sight of him in the rear-view mirror and realise he’s blushing.
‘I, uh …’
‘You really like her, don’t you?’ I say.
Judging by the delay before he speaks, I think he nods before realising my eyes are back on the road.
‘She’s not like the other girls I’ve tried to pick up. Sex was never my goal with her. Okay, well, at first it was, but after about two minutes of talking to her, I just wanted her to like me and I wanted to get to know her.’
I don’t really know how to respond to that.
‘Maybe that’s why you’re actually dating her,’ suggests Sophie. ‘You dropped the “Theodore C. Block: womaniser extraordinaire” act and let her see Teddy, the genuine, kind-hearted guy underneath.’
He gets even more awkward. ‘Yeah, maybe. I mean, the physical stuff is great but it’s just a bonus.’
Sophie coos. ‘Did you hear that, Jen? Our little Theodore is falling in love.’
‘Shut up,’ he insists, and I laugh.
I drive until about four, when we make a three-minute pit stop and I buy a bottle of water. All the salt from the fries has made me thirsty.
Sophie climbs into the driver’s seat, I call shotgun, Loverboy is a sook about it and Elliot sleeps on. I drink half of the water very quickly and wash it down with one of Mrs Carter’s muffins. Teddy helps himself to a muffin, a ginormous slice of cake and three cookies.
My phone rings maybe fifteen minutes after Sophie takes the wheel and I see Dylan’s name on my screen. I lower the volume of the Bright Eyes album.
‘Answer it, I want to abuse him,’ says Sophie.
‘Can I answer it?’ asks Teddy.
‘No, stay quiet unless I ask for help,’ I tell them and I answer the call.
‘Hello?’
‘Jen, babe, I’m so glad you answered. Look, can we catch up? I can come over now. I really need to talk to you.’
‘That’s not going to happen because a) I don’t want to see you, b) I’m really mad about how you spoke to me and c) I’m currently in the middle of New South Wales.’
‘Why are you –’
‘Road trip with Elliot, Teddy and Sophie.’
‘Elliot?’ Anger vibrates through his voice.
‘Yes. Elliot,’ I snap. ‘You got a problem with that? Actually, you know what? I don’t care.’
He takes a moment to breathe slowly.
‘You tell him!’ Teddy says.
I get Teddy to shut up with a wave of my hand.
‘Okay,’ Dylan says. ‘I get it. Can I at least say I’m sorry? I mean, I know I was a total jerk. I really like you, Jen, and I hate myself for throwing that away.’ He doesn’t sound sincere at all.
‘Sure, Dylan. Whatever.’
‘Is it because of those concert tickets? Because I’ll tell Ava –’
‘It’s not about the tickets,’ I say irritably.
‘Oh.’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No. I mean, I still love you and I want you back. Please?’
‘Goodbye, Dylan.’
I hang up the phone.
‘I love that you just did that,’ says Teddy, holding his hand up from the back seat. ‘Can one of you give me a high five so I don’t feel like a loser? Please?’
I glance over at Sophie. She’s smiling at the road ahead of us.