Page 33 of Hairpin Curves

After a few more minutes of silence, when Scarlett was about to change the subject, Megan spoke up again. “For what it’s worth, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. It’s one of the things I always admired about you. And I think you’d make a great teacher.”

Scarlett flushed and mumbled her thanks. Then she quickly turned the music back on. It was a song from the Runaways, perfect for car singing, and she started humming along. Megan joined in, singing the refrain, and the conversation mercifully ended.

Chapter Eight

Megan shifted in her seat for probably the hundredth time that day. This was only day two of their trip, but it had to be that these seats were growing less comfortable with each passing mile. Bucket seats. Who wanted to sit in a bucket, anyway? If she asked to get out and stretch again, though, Scarlett might throttle her, putting an end to the uneasy peace they’d developed throughout the day after a fairly tense start. Plus, the GPS said they were close to the motel, with a left turn coming up off the town road they’d been driving on for a while now. Scarlett pulled off onto the shoulder next to a turnoff heading steeply upward. She frowned at the GPS for a moment, then the road, then back to the GPS. “I think this is it.” She put the blinker on to turn back onto the road, but Megan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“That doesn’t look like a real road.”

Scarlett shrugged. “It’s paved, and the GPS says turn left. There’s a sign of some kind, but I can’t really read it from here.”

Neither could Megan. “Haven’t you ever heard of death by GPS? It’s where you follow the GPS, but the GPS doesn’t know that some roads shouldn’t be driven on, and you end up stranded somewhere and dead.”

“If it’s not this, we’ll turn around before we die, I promise.” Scarlett pulled back onto the road and started heading up the hill, which was leading them off into a more wooded area. They were clearly in the mountains, or at least more mountainous than anything Megan had encountered in Florida. Not that that was saying much.

“This is definitely where you end up dead.” Megan leaned forward as well, frowning as she looked where Scarlett was looking. “It looks like a place people go to get murdered.”

“Nah. We’re fine.” Scarlett pointed. “Look, that’s the motel up ahead.”

The Timber Pines motel lived up to its redundant name—everything was surrounded by pines. It was a cute little place, probably a dozen or so rooms, and it was at least newly painted. Megan’s fears of being murdered were somewhat assuaged. Despite the gain in elevation, they hadn’t seen any snow, but she didn’t mind that too much. It was kind of sweet for Scarlett to be so excited about Megan having this first snow experience, though.

Sweet, and a little disarming.

The room itself was simple but clean, with two double beds covered in flowered bedspreads and a back window that overlooked the forest. Scarlett went for a walk, leaving Megan to unpack her bag and have a bit of time alone with her thoughts after the revelations from earlier. She laid out her scrapbook and started designing a new page as she let her mind wander.

Scarlett’s explanation for lying made sense, or at least Megan could see how it had made sense to eighteen-year-old Scarlett. She still didn’t like it, though; she didn’t like the lying, but she especially didn’t like empathizing with Scarlett’s reasoning. Maybe it was just residual anger from holding this grudge for so many years, or maybe it was something deeper, but she couldn’t forgive Scarlett so easily. Scarlett hadn’t trusted her with her feelings of inadequacy. She’d rather have had Megan hate her than admit she wasn’t as perfect as she’d always acted. And because of that, they’d lost out on years of a friendship, and Megan had had to navigate the biggest changes of her life alone. That kind of betrayal didn’t untangle so easily, not with a single confession, not after seven years. Worst of all was how easily Megan could see herself yielding, drawn back into Scarlett’s dazzling orbit, captivated by Scarlett’s beauty and charm, blinded by her desire for Scarlett’s approval. The only path forward was to stay hard-hearted, to remind herself that Scarlett had betrayed her trust and she didn’t want to get hurt like that again.

Scarlett came back in a little while later with her cheeks pink from the cold, bringing a gust of the outside air in with her. “I’ve got good news.”

Megan set aside her scrapbook and art supplies. “What’s the good news?”

Scarlett nodded at her work. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a page for this stop.” She held it up, already labeled with the Blue Ridge Mountains, spaces for facts she was going to look up on the internet later. “What’s your good news?”

“It’s supposed to snow tonight.” Scarlett beamed. “Not a lot, only a dusting, but the guy at the front desk said he was pretty confident in the forecast.”

“Is that going to be bad for driving?” Megan could imagine them skidding down out of control on the steep road they’d taken to get here.

Scarlett waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. The sander just went by as I was coming back to the room. There’s a path down to a river out behind the motel. Maybe in the morning you’d want to go down there and get a picture or two for the scrapbook.”

“Thanks.” Megan felt a little guilty with her desire to stay hard-hearted in the face of Scarlett’s kindness. She forced a smile. “This place is nice.”

“It’s all right. The price is good, too. Well within the budget.” Scarlett flopped down onto her bed. “I assume you already inspected these for bedbugs?”

“Of course.” Megan ignored the way Scarlett seemed to find that hilarious. “Any places deliver food around here?”

Scarlett dug some folded pamphlets out of her pocket. “Got some local offerings from the front desk.”

They ordered Chinese and watched the local weather on the tiny television while they ate it. Megan was glad to be out of the car, but she couldn’t settle. After dinner, she finished the scrapbook page, and then tried to find something to do. She tried to read a few pages out of a novel, but couldn’t focus on the words; she fooled around with a mobile game, but quickly lost interest; she folded and refolded the clothes she’d unpacked and then reorganized all the snacks in the snack bag. Nothing held her interest, her attention skittering as her body itched for something physical. She knew what would relieve that nervous energy, and if she’d been alone, she could indulge to her heart’s content—some sex toys, a locked bedroom door, and no Scarlett passing judgment. But no, she wasn’t alone, and so even that foolproof stress reliever was denied her. Annoyed, she tried pushing herself through some yoga.

Scarlett closed her laptop. “The Wi-Fi here’s shitty. I can’t get a good signal.” She leaned back against the headboard of her bed. “What’s wrong?”

Megan grimaced. “I’m restless.”

“I can tell.”

Megan shifted into Triangle pose, trying not to roll her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”