Ex-mas (8 page)

And he didn't like that very much,
she thought with a kind of grim satisfaction. Beau swung back out through the door of the little store, and Lila watched him walk toward her. He had a way of walking like the world owed him something, and he wasn't afraid to hold out for it no matter what. It was a laid-back yet prickly saunter. What if she hadn't stood up for what she wanted back then? How different would things be now? Would they stil be together?

Lila shuddered at the idea.

"See?" He climbed back into the car and offered one of his way-too-pleased-with-himself looks her way. Then he tossed a bag of chips and a giant tinfoil-wrapped burrito into the little space between the seats. His version of a snack, which would feed seven people. "That took al of three seconds."

"The train isn't stopping for a snack," Lila pointed out. "I'l be sure to tel your mother that you thought a freaking burrito was more important than your brother."

Beau let out a long-suffering sigh that would have seemed

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dramatic for a martyr. Lila made a face but bit her tongue. The last section of this endless day had been, if not exactly
pleasant,
fight-free. Just music playing--Beau had managed to find a mix that didn't involve anything too emo or punk--and the night al around them. It had actual y been kind of soothing, the only interruption their periodic attempts to cal Amtrak and try to get the train stopped somehow. Al they ever got was a recorded
all circuits are busy
message. Eventual y, they'd stopped trying.

Lila had zoned out and let herself relax a little bit after the long fal semester and the crappiest of days. She didn't want to start fighting with Beau again if she didn't have to. Much better to crank up the music and float the rest of the way to Oakland--and to Erik. It wasn't exactly a peace treaty, but it was the next best thing.

Beau unwrapped his snack and took a gigantic bite. The smel of beans and cheese and warm tortil a fil ed the car, and Lila's stomach rumbled.

Juggling the enormous burrito, he leaned forward and turned the keys in the ignition.

Clink. Clink.

That was the only sound the car made. The engine didn't turn over. It didn't even sputter.

"And, hey, look at that, the crappiest car in California just died," Lila murmured, inspecting her nails. "What a shock." She knew she sounded like an über-wench, and she didn't even care. So much for not fighting with Beau.

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Beau threw her an angry glare, then reached under the steering wheel to pop the hood. He climbed out of the car. Heaving a sigh, Lila decided she had

no choice but to fol ow his lead.

"So you know about cars now?" she asked, walking around the front of the car to stand next to him. The wind was colder in Big Sur and the sky was even clearer. A mil ion pinprick stars glittered above them. She wrapped her arms around herself. Beau scowled down at the engine, his hands on his

lean hips.

"Don't worry, Lila," he snapped. "If the engine needs an emergency manicure, I'l be sure to let you know"

"Car trouble?"

They both turned at the new voice. A guy in a blue coveral ambled toward them from the gas station.

"I guess so," Beau said. He rocked back on his heels and let the other man lean in for a closer look. "It won't start."

The man looked at Beau, then at Lila, and then turned his attention to the engine. He pul ed a flashlight out of his pocket and let its beam dance over what looked, to Lila, like indistinguishable slabs of dirty metal. She bit her lip and checked the time. Seven thirteen.

The guy
humphed.
He coughed, spit once, and then rocked back on his heels.

"Wel , no, it won't start," the mechanic said, clicking off his flashlight and shoving it back in the pocket of his stained overal s. His face was shadowed in the harsh yel ow light from

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the gas station. He squinted at Beau. "You been off-roading in this thing? It's a Ford Escort, son. Not a jeep."

"I might have gotten a little creative here and there," Beau said, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. He scuffed his black Converse against the asphalt. "But nothing too crazy"

"Your creativity messed this baby up good," the mechanic crowed. He straightened, his eyes jumping from Beau to Lila. "I can fix it. Four hundred bucks and it's yours by tomorrow, around ten."

"What? No!" Lila piped up, shaking her head in disbelief. By tomorrow, Cooper and Tyler would be in Seattle! And Lila might as wel kiss her entire life good-bye. It was already after seven--Beau's little
shortcut
was going to ruin everything. "We can't wait until tomorrow! We have to be in Oakland in a few hours!"

The mechanic shrugged, like their travel plans were about as interesting to him as the Escort's grimy engine was to Lila.
Good-bye, life,
she thought. A loud, thumping bass shattered the night around them, then disappeared as a truck rol ed past. Lila's face crumpled, and she knew she was seconds away

from bursting into tears.

"Slow night," the mechanic said after a moment, considering. "You want it today, I can probably do it"

"You're a lifesaver!" Lila cried. She wanted to kiss his grizzly cheek, or the gross pavement of the parking lot beneath her feet.

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"But it'l cost you double," the man continued.

"No problem," Lila said, even though she could probably
buy
Beau's car for that much money. Or, realistical y, for much less. Wasn't that why her dad had given her his credit card, with al those dire warnings about emergencies only and blah blah blah? If this wasn't an emergency, what was?

"It's fine," she said to Beau's pale, questioning face. "I have a credit card."

"That'l have to be cash only," the mechanic said. He shook his head and blew out his cheeks, as if he regretted the necessity.

Lila felt her mouth drop open, but no sound emerged.

"Thanks," Beau said, smiling politely at the mechanic. "If we can just talk for a minute...?"

"No worries," the other man said. "But let me know what you decide in the next ten minutes or so, 'cause I might close down and get some dinner."

"Sure," Beau said weakly.

The man walked away. Beau and Lila stared at each other. Somewhere in the dark, Lila could hear waves crashing against the rocky shore below,

again and again.

"You have a credit card?" Beau asked.

"It's my dad's, obviously," Lila said. "For emergencies or whatever."

"Okay." Beau shrugged. "But how would you explain an

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eight-hundred-dol ar charge in Big Sur if the point is never to tel them about any of this?"

Lila blinked. She hadn't even considered that. "Whatever," she said after a moment, not wanting to admit her mistake. "The real question is, how are we going to come up with eight hundred dol ars in cash in the middle of nowhere?"

"We could be in the middle of Hol ywood Boulevard and I
still
have no idea how we'd come up with that much money" Beau sighed. He wandered over to the curb and sank down on it. Lila found herself trailing after him. For a moment they just sat there, dejected.

There was only the sound of the wind through the towering pine trees. The clouds scudded across the night sky far above. The air smel ed clean and

sharp and piney, like salt and Christmas. Lila hugged her knees to her chest and tried to imagine how she would even
start
to have the inevitable conversation with her parents.
Don't worry, I didn't throw a party,
she could say.
But don't get too excited--Cooper is on a train to the North Pole. Not
alone! With Tyler!

Nausea settled in her bel y. The hands on her watch seemed to speed up, tick-tocking their way toward her doom. Seven twenty-three. Seven twenty-

four. Seven twenty-five.

"I guess we have to cal the police Lila said with a heavy sigh. "Right? I mean, we can't catch the train. And we can't let them go to Alaska or wherever they're headed." She rubbed at

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her temples. She couldn't even bring herself to imagine what this would mean for her life. Or for her mythical car. "My parents are going to kil me," she whispered, more to herself than to Beau.

"My mom won't love this either," he said darkly. "Believe me." He fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at it, then made a scoffing sound.

"What?" Lila asked. She felt a sudden surge of hope. "Did they text again?"

"Wel , they could have Beau said in a clipped voice. "I wouldn't know." He held the phone up so Lila could see. "No service."

"Of course not," Lila said, her voice tight. "Why should there be cel phone service? Why should
anything
about this day be
anything
but horrifying?"

"This is happening to both of us, you know," Beau said, his blue eyes narrowing. "Not just you."

Lila was more than ready to unload the entire terrible day's worth of frustration and fury al over him. But she was stopped by the sound of yel ing from nearby.

Who could possibly be
more
angry than she was? She twisted around, trying to locate the source of al that fury.

"What do you mean you can't make it?" a man was howling into the pay phone attached to the wal of the convenience store. "You're the
wedding band!

You
have
to make it!"

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Beau and Lila stared at each other for a moment. They had exchanged nothing more than not-so-pleasant pleasantries for the last three years, and yet

she knew exactly what he was thinking.

He jumped to his feet and walked over to the man just as he slammed the phone down and started shouting curses into the night.

"You need a musician tonight?" he asked, not bothering to conceal his eavesdropping.

"I need a freaking musician
right now!"
the guy retorted, sounding anguished. He was smal and round and bald, like an angry bowling bal . He rubbed his fists against his forehead and groaned, his too-large navy blue suit jacket gaping open. The interior panels were a shockingly bright purple paisley. He also happened to be wearing shorts. "I'm the best man for my buddy's wedding, and of course
I
was in charge of the band."

Beau smiled. "If you have eight hundred bucks, I have a guitar and an amp in my car"

"You have to be kidding me," the guy said in a near whisper, clasping his hands together like Beau was the answer to a silent prayer.

"Nope." Beau ambled back to the Escort and pul ed out his guitar. "Tel me what you need, and I'm yours."

"You are saving my life!" the guy cried, whooping with joy. He actual y jumped up and down in a kind of victory dance.

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Beau glanced over at Lila, his brows raised. Once again, she could read his mind: He was remembering her teasing him about his backup guitar.

She was going to hear
all
about that, she was sure. But maybe this time, she wouldn't mind.

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Chapter 9

***

CAMP ON A CLIFF

BIG SUR, CA

DECEMBER 22

7:55 P.M.

***

Camp on a Cliff was spread out across a little bluff that was, true to its name, right on the cliffs overlooking the ocean far below. The wedding party was stil eating their dinner on long red picnic tables as Lila and Beau walked up. Candles flickered in hanging lanterns and in votives scattered across the tabletops, and voices wove together in laughter and the clink of glasses. Bright sparkling Christmas lights were strung up in al the trees surrounding dark, green-roofed cabins. Lila wondered if the place looked half as magical during the day, and decided it couldn't. But in the dark, it seemed enchanted.

So enchanted that she found herself smiling at Beau. So enchanted that he smiled back.

Lila hung near him as he unpacked his guitar and started setting up on the little stage near one of the wood cabins. She

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leaned back against the rough pine of the cabin wal and watched the wedding reception in front of her. It was, unsurprisingly, a hippie kind of wedding.

Who else would get married at a campsite? But Lila had to admit that it al seemed to work. The bride wore a medieval headdress and a red gown, and

the groom had a bushy beard and wore stockings like Heath Ledger in
A Knight's Tale,
one of Lila's favorite old-school movies. The groom, sadly, did not otherwise look at al like Heath. The guests were dressed in a riot of colors, with equal y surprising hair. Ordinarily, Lila would have thought they were al a bunch of freaks. And it wasn't that she
didn't
think so now, but...it al kind of made sense out on this bluff, under the tal trees, in the night air.

"Want to sing with me?" Beau asked as he strummed a few chords. He looked at her from under the messy length of his jet-black hair, then back down at the guitar.

Lila had a sudden, crystal-clear memory of singing with him, of their voices blending together into that harmony that only the two of them could produce-

-so seamless, she'd thought then. They'd spent their Friday nights cloistered together in his room, composing their sil y songs and teaching themselves how to play their guitars.

And then she remembered the day she'd broken up with him in the ninth grade, and al the horrible things they'd said to each other. Like that California would fal into the sea before Lila

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would sing with Beau again--something, he'd retorted spiteful y, he was in no rush for. She had made the right decision back then. She had no doubts.

None at al .

So she shook her head slightly, surprised to feel a heat creep across her cheeks as she did.

She was even more surprised a little while later, when Beau started to sing. Lila stood against one of the wood cabins, feeling the rough wood scratch at her back. He had been set up with a chair, his guitar resting comfortably on his knee, a mic before him. He commanded the stage, his biceps peeking out from under his thin T-shirt. It was like he was suddenly the only person alive in the world.