Amy & roger's epic detour by Morgan Matson

Author:Morgan Matson [Morgan Matson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jeunesse
ISBN: 9781416990659
Published: 2010-05-04T10:38:43+00:00

Where they love me, where they know me, where they show me, back in Missouri.

—Sara Evans

Around midnight, it started to rain.

We’d been driving through Kansas in the dark for three hours, not speaking much. I’d been looking out the window, feeling the reverberations of what I’d told Walcott still coursing through me, like aftershocks following an earthquake. I’d said it out loud. I had. And it hadn’t made things worse—the world hadn’t ended. But I didn’t feel a lot better, either. It was almost as though by saying the words out loud, I’d summoned it in a more real way, because I was now having a hard time thinking about anything else. My mind kept circling around and around the things I wanted to think about the least.

The rain was a welcome distraction. I leaned over and showed Roger how to adjust the wiper settings, and I looked ahead to the highway, obscured and made somehow beautiful by the rain streaking across the windshield, blurring the red lines of brake lights ahead of us and the white lines of headlights to the left of us, no sound in the car except Roger’s mix and the constant, muted thwap of the windshield wipers.

The rain was light at first, just a few droplets, but then it was as though the endless sky above us had opened, and bucketful after bucketful was being tossed down onto the car. “Wow,” Roger said, fumbling with the wiper settings again. I leaned over and turned them up so they were going at their fastest setting—thwapthwapth-wapthwapthwap. “Thanks,” he said.

“Sure.” I leaned back and looked out into the darkness, at the rain droplets streaking diagonally across my window. I’d always felt safe driving inside cars at night when it rained. I knew most people—like Julia—had always hated being in cars when it rained, especially at night. She said it scared her. But it had never bothered me. Especially since I now knew that the worst could happen in broad daylight on a sunny Saturday morning, fifteen minutes from home.

“You used to drive this car?” Roger asked, glancing over at me.

“Sure,” I said, propping my feet on the dashboard.

“If you ever want to drive,” he said, a little tentatively, like he was considering each word before he spoke it, “I mean, you absolutely could. I would be fine with that.”

I put my feet down and sat up straighter. “Should we stop?” I asked. “Are you too tired?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got at least two more hours in me tonight. I just … wanted to let you know that I’d be okay with you driving.”

Something about the way he said this made me go still. Did he know what had happened? I’d thought he didn’t, but maybe that was just what I’d wanted to think. And maybe he hadn’t just been perceptive when Drew had been driving too fast for me. Maybe he’d known why it bothered me, and had known this whole time. “I don’t want to

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