From What I Remember

“Will, can I use your cell phone?” I say. “Mine is dead. I need to call my mom and tell her we’re not going to make it.”

“We’re going to make it; don’t be silly,” Will says, sounding entirely unconvinced.

“We’re not going to make it. I need to tell my family.”

I turn around to take Will’s phone, but he isn’t handing it over. Max is staring at me like he wants to say something. I quickly turn away. What’s the point?

“It doesn’t matter,” Lily says. “It’s just a ceremony. We still graduate.” Lily has had her eyes closed for a while now, and they’re still closed, lizardlike.

“It matters to me,” Charlie says. “I don’t want to miss graduation. Shit.” And he pounds the wheel with his hand, something he’s now done a few times. It doesn’t move us along any faster, but I guess it makes him feel better.

“I need to be there,” Max says. “For my dad’s sake.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there’s no way.” This comes out meaner than I intended. Max doesn’t respond. “Will, please, give me your phone.” I hold my hand out in front of him.

“No. I’m not giving it to you. We’re going to make it.”

“Oh my God, Will. Just give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Here, Kylie, you can use mine.” Lily holds out her phone. I’m almost afraid to touch it. Like it’ll blow up in my hand or something.

An olive branch? From Lily? So strange.

I stare at the phone for a minute, realizing I don’t have the strength to talk to my mom. So I text.

HI MOM, IT’S ME. I’M W WILL. WE’RE RUNNING LATE N WILL MEET U AT GRADUATION.

As I wait for Mom’s response, we pull up to the booth. Oh. My. God. We’re here. One minute ahead of schedule. If Border Patrol just lets us through, if they don’t stop us and search our car, if Charlie floors it, we may actually get to school, late, but we could still make it.

“Good morning to all of you. Passports please, people,” says an annoyingly chipper woman.

We all hand our passports to Charlie, who hands them to the woman at the window. I hold my breath and cross my fingers. I’m not going to breathe until I know we are good to go.

The woman flips through our passports for what seems like an interminable period of time. Is she going to ask us to get out of the car? Does she sense we came here illegally? Why is she taking so damn long?

“Did you all have a nice time in Mexico?” she asks.

“We sure did,” Charlie says.

Oh. My. God. Are we really going to have to make small talk?

“Where did you all go?”

“We were in Ensenada,” Charlie answers evenly. He doesn’t even sound stressed. Thank God for Charlie because I’m not sure the rest of us could have pulled it off. I’m tempted to lunge out the window, place my hands around the woman’s neck, and scream, Let. Us. Go.

“Love Ensenada. I go there every chance I get,” the woman says. “Did you make it to the beach?”

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

“Sure did. It was lovely,” Charlie replies, meeting her chipper and raising her one.

“Be sure to come back and visit.”

“We sure will,” Charlie says.

“Okay, folks, you’re free to go.” Finally, she ushers us through.

I gulp air. I feel light-headed from holding my breath.

We pass through the extensive border area, and then we’re in California, heading onto the 405 Freeway. The long slog is over, and we instantly speed up as if shot out of a cannon. We all let out a huge sigh of relief. Will and Lily high-five, which ranks fairly close to the top of all the strange things that have happened today.

“You just might make it,” Juan shouts from the back. Juan? I forgot about him.

And all of a sudden the dark cloud that had settled over the car lifts. Lily has opened her eyes and come out of hibernation. Will is perched forward like an alert puppy.

Lily’s phone, still clutched in my hand, buzzes with an incoming text from Mom.

WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW YOU’RE NOT WITH WILL. I TALKED TO HIS MOM LAST NIGHT. I CALLED THE POLICE AND PUT OUT A MISSING PERSON’S REPORT. WHY HAVEN’T YOU TEXTED UNTIL NOW?

Uh-oh! I’m in trouble six ways to Sunday.

“My mom knows I didn’t spend the night at your house,” I say to Will. “She talked to your mom.”

“Shit!”

“Tell me about it.” Jesus. A missing person’s report?

KYLIE:

IT’S A LONG STORY. I’M FINE. ON MY WAY BACK FROM ENSENADA.

MOM:

ENSENADA?! MEXICO? HOW COULD YOU JEOPARDIZE GRADUATION?

KYLIE:

I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE. UR GOING TO HAV TO TRUST ME ON THIS. I MADE A MISTAKE. BUT I’M FINE AND I’LL MEET U AT GRADUATION.

MOM:

YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO. AND YOU’RE GROUNDED.

I can’t believe Mom and I are having this discussion right now, via text message. But for once, I don’t feel like backing down. I always back down with Mom.

KYLIE:

I KNOW. BUT U HAV TO BELIEVE I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. OTHERWISE, HOW CAN U TRUST ME TO GO ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY IN 2 MONTHS?

MOM:

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING BUT NOW I’M NOT SO SURE. YOU RAN OFF TO MEXICO.

KYLIE:

THINGS R GOING TO HAPPEN N I’M GOING TO DEAL W THEM THE BEST I CAN. U CAN’T GROUND ME IN NYC.

MOM:

WE’LL TALK ABOUT THIS AFTER GRADUATION.

KYLIE: I LOVE U. TELL JAKE I’M ALMOST THERE.

MOM:

I LOVE YOU TOO. GOOD LUCK.

Now wasn’t the time to tell my mom that I may not make graduation. She was already pissed enough. Charlie has been going ninety, as promised, for the past several minutes. He’s looking nervous and his hands have a death grip on the wheel. I kind of wish I were driving. I’m definitely better at it. But this is hardly the time to switch drivers.

Everyone is calling and texting their parents to let them know they’ll meet them at school. It’s still kind of unlikely we’ll make it anytime soon. But at least we’ll make it. And then I hear a loud, wailing police siren fast approaching. I look out my window and see a police car directly behind us.

“Shit, we’re getting pulled over for speeding,” Charlie says.

Naturally, my good luck has run out. It lasted for a whole five minutes.

harlie pulls over to the side, and the police car pulls up behind us. The cop gets out of his car and takes what feels like ten years to get to us. I can feel the car empty out of air as we all suck in a deep breath, waiting. As the cop approaches, Charlie feels around in the glove compartment for everything he knows he will need. Charlie and I have been here before—last year, to be exact. Charlie got a speeding ticket. We must have been going eighty-five in a forty mph zone. His dad had it expunged from his record, but he was beyond pissed and threatened to take Charlie’s car away if he got another one. Looks like that’s about to happen.

“Goddamnit,” Charlie says, loud enough for us all to hear.

He’s freaking, thinking this could mean no more car. I feel for him. Everyone else is freaking, thinking this means no graduation as the minutes tick away. I can see Kylie in the front seat, chewing on her thumb, staring blankly at her closed computer. This is her big day and it’s all gone horribly wrong. I feel for her. Lily’s big blue eyes fill with tears as she looks out the window and into the nothingness of the San Diego landscape. I feel for her too. Man, I’m feeling a little too much. I liked it better when I was shutting out the world.