Page 79 of So Thirsty

“They could have stopped us from doing it, but they didn’t,” I say. “From killing that man.”

“Maybe because they saw he deserved it,” she says.

“Or maybe because they’re killers and they get off on this stuff,” I say. “What now, Nay? It’s nine o’clock. Do we pack up and go? Try to lose them? How did they find us in the first place? Did you notice the van at all last night?”

“No,” she says, picking up the tumbler and staring inside it, as if it will have magically refilled. “Do you think they have more?”

“Don’t you see what they’re doing? They’re making it so we rely on them.”

“Or they’re being nice.”

“I was awake while they changed us. You weren’t.”

“Can we not fight? This night is shitty enough already.”

I sit down on my unmade bed. “I think we should leave. Drive until morning. We’re sitting ducks here.”

“Whatever you want,” she says, tossing me the car keys. “You can drive. I don’t feel up to it, probably because I’m thirsty, and because, if you recall, I just cut ties with the person I spent the last twelve years of my life with, which was pretty fucking hard and ended pretty fucking poorly.”

“I told you seeing Lee was a terrible idea,” I say, because I’m not done fighting. Because I have the energy, because I’m full of blood and resentment.

“You did. But you know what? If you’d asked me to take you to see Joel, I wouldn’t have said anything. Not a word. I would have taken you. And when you were done with your goodbyes, I would have kicked him in the balls so hard that he’d see God.”

Now I remember why I don’t pick fights with Naomi. She has a way of winning.

She takes her sweet time packing up, getting her suitcase ready. I compulsively check behind the curtain. The van hasn’t moved. I wonder why Henry wasn’t the one to come to the door. I know he’s here, and that he wants me to know he’s here. He left me the handprint. He’s not finished with his playground games.

When she’s done packing, she pulls up her suitcase handle and opens the door, heads out to the car.

“I need you to unlock it,” she calls from the parking lot.

I take one last look around the motel room, and suddenly I wish we weren’t leaving. It’s grimy and ugly and the perfect place for us, for the versions of us we are right now. I know that wherever we find ourselves next, we’ll be different once we get there. I’m afraid of meeting our future selves. Afraid of what they’ll be capable of.

Naomi left the tumbler on the nightstand, so I go pick it up, then get my suitcase and walk out of the room, letting the door shut itself behind me.

I unlock the car.

“I’m dropping off the room key,” Naomi says, leaving her suitcase for me to put in the trunk. It weighs fifty tons.

She comes back and hops into the passenger seat. “The roads are icy.”

“Got it.” I start the car to a fun surprise. “Nay. It’s on Empty.”

“Yeah. We need gas. So?”

“Nothing,” I say, backing up, watching the van in the rearview. I fully expect it to follow us out of the parking lot, but it doesn’t. It stays parked there.

And I’m reluctant to admit that part of me is disappointed. That maybe part of me, some part I’ve either long forgotten or just discovered, likes being chased.

25

N aomi doesn’t know the exact address of her parents’ vacation house. “It’s in Wilmington. North Carolina.”

“Yeah. That’s not specific enough.”

“I’ve only ever been there twice,” she says. “But I’ll know how to get to it once we’re in the area.”

“Will you?”