Fourteen Years
Route 93, Arizona

‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Jennifer eventually.

The cab stank of charcoal. The right side of my face felt like it was on fire. It wasn’t, though. Both the Cowboy and Jennifer had checked – more than once. Maybe the sensation wasn’t even down to the explosion. Maybe it was my body finally reacting to everything it has been through.

‘West,’ said the Cowboy.

The three of us sat shoulder to shoulder in the pick-up as it sped towards the horizon. Jennifer had the middle seat because the Cowboy couldn’t trust her not to do something stupid like open the door at seventy-five miles an hour. For the first fifteen minutes we sat without talking, shocked into silence by the explosive events at the gas station. The singed urn bag was safely stowed in the space behind our seats. I was kind of happy not to have to worry about it any more.

‘You know, you’re just like your grandmother,’ the Cowboy growled. He’d obviously spent this time shaking up his thoughts like a can of Coke. The pressure was now so great that they exploded from him. ‘Impulsive. Too quick to make a decision. It’ll get you in trouble one day, young lady. Real trouble guaranteed. You remember that.’

I let out a tired laugh. I couldn’t help it. Because if this wasn’t trouble, I didn’t know what was.

The Cowboy had given the UFO gang a bunch of money from a briefcase pulled from the pick-up. It might not have made them feel any better but it sure stopped them crying about the RV. And they were totally convinced that he was a ‘man in black’.

Dave was outside within seconds of the explosion. I’d never seen someone look so shocked. You know in cartoons when the character’s jaw literally hits the ground? That’s pretty much what happened with him. The Cowboy handed Dave cash too. He also whispered something into his ear, which broke his trance and, if you can believe it, made him smile.

‘It was a good job that tank didn’t have a line to the buildings or elsewhere. We’d have been as good as dead.’

‘Yeah, okay, whatever, but where exactly west?’ asked Jennifer, like she’d heard none of what the Cowboy had said.

‘To Vegas,’ he said. ‘McCarran airport.’

I closed my eyes. If they thought I was asleep, they wouldn’t include me. I didn’t even care that I’d assumed we were driving to Chicago, back to Jennifer’s family. Everywhere was a distance away. And everywhere was also unimaginably far from home. I’d missed the shoot, Jennifer had been caught, so what did anything matter any more?

‘Yep, McCarran airport,’ said the Cowboy again. ‘That’s where you’re going. On a plane back to Illinois, school and your grandmother. And how about you, sonny? Do your parents know where you’re at?’ I let my mouth hang open, breathing heavily. It was top-grade acting, even though I could smell my breath and it made me desperate for a toothbrush. I didn’t want to think about Mum and Dad. I didn’t want to think about the inevitable call I’d have to make. ‘I know you’re not sleeping.’

Jennifer, who should have been my ally, elbowed me in the side. I straightened up, the safety belt tightening across my chest, and rubbed my eyes.

‘What?’ I said, continuing with my show. ‘Where am I?’

‘Your parents?’ said the Cowboy. ‘What’s their story?’

‘They know,’ I said, fake yawning. ‘They’re cool. I rang home yesterday. Thanks for asking.’

I’d tried to sound confident, but my voice had betrayed me with a wobble. The Cowboy laughed. It sounded like sandpaper on metal and soon turned into a cough. He pulled a bottle of water from a compartment near the gear selector and drank.

‘You excuse me,’ he said. ‘Where was I? Yes, as soon as we get ourselves to Vegas, I’ll be letting you ring them again to confirm all that coolness. And then I’m putting you on a plane and putting your friend Jennifer on one too and returning this here box to the boss. And then I’m done. Anyone want water?’

(We didn’t.)

‘Take it from me, you don’t want to be making an enemy of your friend’s grandmother here. Not if you ever plan on visiting the States again. Say I’m wrong, Jennifer.’ But she said nothing. ‘You may be fourteen, girl, but you’re no fool, I can see that.’

‘You’re fourteen!’ I hissed, this information shaking me from the dull truth that to live is to suffer and any plan I’d ever had to get to LA had always been destined to fail.

Jennifer looked down her nose and shrugged. ‘I’m mature for my age.’

‘But I’m fourteen. I thought you were, like, eighteen or something. Like an adult. You said you could drive. You had ID.’

‘Fake ID. And I can drive. Just not legally.’ Jennifer stared through the windscreen, out at the road as straight as an arrow. ‘We’re all pretending to be someone else anyway,’ she said finally.