“So it’s like a road trip?” Muppet asks at lunch.
“It is a road trip,” Ray tells her. “And if you want to come you need to cough up some cash for gas. And food.”
“And jokes,” I remind her.
“Oh yes. And jokes. Everyone needs like a hundred and five jokes.”
“I suck at jokes,” Muppet says. “I never remember the punch lines.”
“That can be funny in its own way, but I suggest you study up.” Ray sounds stern.
“Why do we need the jokes?” Muppet looks at me. “What does this have to do with visiting Toby at his . . .” She looks at me.
“Adolescent rehabilitation treatment center,” I say. “The jokes are just for the car. Not Toby. Unless he wants to hear some, but he probably won’t.” I can’t really explain my idea to Muppet. I’m not sure even Ray totally gets it. But she texted “Yes” the second she got my “Do you want to go on a 1,001 Jokes Memorial Day Weekend Road Trip to Toby Tour” text. She took time off from work and stopped bidding on eBay to make sure she had enough money. It was her idea to invite Muppet, because Muppet just being Muppet would double the hilarity. It took weeks to get all the okays from my parents, the doctors, and the staff at Two Moons.
But waiting for all the okays gave me enough time to sign up for and pass my road test! On the first try! Not even Toby, Ray, Abdi, or Muppet did that. Despite my official State of New York license, my parents have been making me practice with one of them every day after school. After everything, it’s pretty amazing that I feel totally fine behind the wheel.
And I rock at parallel parking.
Partially because they’re super supportive about my road trip and partially because I’m totally broke, my parents are paying for food and gas and for Ray and me to share a motel room. The plan is for us to leave Saturday, visit Toby most of Sunday and Monday morning, and then drive home Monday afternoon. After explaining this to Muppet, she says she’ll sleep on the floor of the motel.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she says. “I actually prefer the floor to the bed.”
“That’s why you’re a dingbat,” I say, smiling. I’m pretty sure she’ll never find out that I kissed Toast, but I still feel bad about it.
Everything is set until Friday when Ray comes up to me after third period. “I fucked up.”
“What?” Part of me wants her to say she can’t go, because then I wouldn’t go. But another part of me wants to get it over with. Bad-joke-telling and all.
“I sort of invited Toast.”
“I made him try out. He told me a legitimately funny joke about a nun and a screwdriver . . . I don’t remember it, but it was funny.”
“Toast?”
“Weird as it is, he’s one of Toby’s friends, Amelia. It’s not like he doesn’t know what happened. He was there. He helped.”
“I don’t even want to go,” I snap. “I wish I’d never heard of Two Moons.”
“I know,” she says sympathetically.
I’m so miserable about Toast coming on the road trip that I blow off math and English and go see if anyone from film club is around, but the room is dark. I wander into the library, check my email, and scan Rotten Tomatoes for any potentially interesting movies, but then Scott from the NAMI group gchats me.
BeameupSCOTTY: hey, Amelia! u there? It’s Scott . . . from the group thing.
amelia.anderson: I know!
BeameupSCOTTY: so . . . what’s up?
amelia.anderson: i’m supposed to go c my bro in 2 days. Road trip with friends.
BeameupSCOTTY: Cool.
amelia.anderson: Cool?
BeameupSCOTTY: Road trips r fun!!!!!
amelia.anderson: I guess.
BeameupSCOTTY: Be +
amelia.anderson: I’m making my friends tell jokes. They need to have enough to tell the whole way there and it’s like four hours away. I got the idea from u. keeping my sense of humor.
I wait for him to respond for more than a minute and then write U still there?
BeameupSCOTTY: Yeah. Just emailed u some jokes. I love jokes! My jokes rock!!! They’re dirty!!!!
amelia.anderson: I’m sure Toast (guy) will love them.
BeameupSCOTTY: You’re taking a dude?
amelia.anderson: Unfortunately.
BeameupSCOTTY: Is he the “complicated” boyfriend?
amelia.anderson: No!!!!!!!!!!! 
BeameupSCOTTY: Got it.
amelia.anderson: He’s my friend Muppet’s boyfriend. And he helped my brother one night. A bad night.
BeameupSCOTTY: Oh. Got it. Does everyone in your town have a weird name?
amelia.anderson: Yeah. Everyone calls me Meals.
BeameupSCOTTY: You can lead the next meeting, Meals. You’ll have lots to share after seeing your bro.
amelia.anderson: Maybe.
BeameupSCOTTY: looking forward to hearing about your trip.
amelia.anderson: It’s called the 1,001 Jokes Memorial Day Weekend Road Trip to Toby Tour.
BeameupSCOTTY: Awesome!!! Glad 2 contribute.
amelia.anderson: Thanks.
BeameupSCOTTY: Good luck. Don’t be offended. The jokes are nasty!!! But remember I’m a sweetheart. Bye.
amelia.anderson: Bye.
I print the jokes, log off, pick up the five (!) pages of material Scott sent me from the printer, and book it to class just as the bell rings.
I get a late start on Saturday because my dad practically takes Prudence apart making sure she’s safe.
“It’s going to be fine,” I tell them. “I’m a good, licensed driver. The car has new everything.”
“It’s a long trip,” my mom says. “You’ve never driven that long by yourself.”
“You’re crossing state lines,” my dad says. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“I won’t be alone,” I remind them. “Ray and Emily and Toast are all good drivers.”
“Toast?” My dad looks at me.
I shrug. “He’s Emily’s boyfriend. And, well . . . you know.”
My dad nods. “Don’t be scared of the highway.” He hands me his Visa. “For gas. And emergencies. Only.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I remember Epstein’s mom telling him to “take the Visa.” I wonder what he’d think of my road trip. Epstein would be great on road trips. As long as he promised to keep the jam bands to a minimum. “I should get going,” I tell my parents.
My mom nods. “I’m so proud of you. You’re a brave, strong girl, Amelia Jane.”
“I wanna go,” Sam says. “I love Massachusetts.”
“When school’s over,” my mom says. “This is Amelia’s thing, sweetie.”
“You’re a wonderful egg,” my dad says. “But do not speed. Do not text. Do not play loud music.” I swear he looks to see if my seat belt is buckled.
“I won’t,” I say. “I have to pick everyone up.” It feels really good to be the one picking up for a change.
When I get to the bottom of the driveway, I look up at my parents, who are looking down at me. I know I’ll start crying if I look at them for too long, so I beep and drive over to Ray’s.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” she croons when she comes down with way too many bags.
“Me neither. What can I say? People change.”
“You look good behind the wheel, Amelia Jane.”
“I do, don’t I?” I fiddle with the rearview mirror again and drive to get Muppet and Toast.
As soon as I get on the highway, Toast says he has a terrible headache from not smoking pot all day. Then he says he didn’t bring any, either.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. “Are you going to go into withdrawal or something?” I try to say it nicely so he knows that I no longer think he’s horrendously horrible.
“Yeah, Toaster, should we alert the authorities?” Ray says.
“Jeez,” he says. “What do you guys think? That I can’t go like forty-eight hours without weed?”
“Yeah,” Muppet, Ray, and I say at the same time, which cracks us up.
I’m not surprised that the funniest jokes come from Scott. They are really disgusting. Toast laughs so hard he says he peed his pants a little and he hopes he remembered underwear, which makes me and Ray laugh hysterically for about ten miles. Muppet is so atrocious at telling them that Ray and I practically stop breathing from laughing so much. She either screws it up or doesn’t remember the punch line or uses the wrong punch line. It gets to the point where Ray and I are crying. I’m not crying too much, though—I wouldn’t want to affect my vision. It feels good to laugh so hard. It’s been a long time.
I drive for three hours before Ray takes over. I look out the window at the passing scenery and try to imagine filming it. For one second I thought about bringing the film club’s camera, but I decided not to. I might bring it for Family Weekend, but I’m not sure.
I call my parents the minute I get to the motel. Even though my mom tries to sound chill, I know she’s been waiting for me to call.
And even though he didn’t bring any weed, Toast did bring a bottle of rum, which we mix into some cans of Coke from the vending machine. I have a few sips and then switch to water. I don’t want to feel sick when I see my brother. We order pizza and hang out in Toast’s room, but after we’re done with dinner, Ray and I head back to our room since it seems like all Toast and Muppet want to do is be alone.
“I’m so glad we don’t have to hear any sex noises.” Ray plops down on one of the beds. “I would not be happy if we were right next to them.”
“Or below them.” I turn on the TV.
“Although they kind of make a good couple. Don’t you think?”
“In this weird, totally unexplainable way, they do. I can’t imagine either one of them with anyone else.”
“Do you think he’s trying to make a statement by not getting high?”
“Like, to honor Toby or something?”
Ray nods.
“Maybe. He’s not the worst guy. I know he was good to Toby. I just have a hard time looking at him without thinking about . . . everything.”
“I understand.”
“Thanks.” The air in the room feels really sad and serious. If I were filming it, I’d add a violin or quiet piano to really get the mood. But I’m not filming, and I’m tired of sad and serious, so without thinking too much about it, I grab one of the pillows from my bed and whack Ray with it.
“This is how you thank me,” she says, flinging one at my head.
I throw another one and before I know it we’re whacking each other with pillows and laughing hysterically all over again.