“ROAD TRIP!” Pete’s voice is far too happy for my liking. I get the distinct feeling he doesn’t understand the purpose of our trip this summer. I look over at Isaac.
Isaac smirks at me and leans over. “You chose this,” he whispers into my ear.
I groan. “I know, but I wasn’t quite expecting, well, this.” I gesture vaguely at the whole setup.
“You can blame Amanda, she told Pete about our road trip.”
I give him a small sigh. “You mean about my crosscountry drive that you then decided to make into a wandering road trip?”
“That’s the one,” he replies with a smile, “We’re going to be hitting Cali at basically the same time, we’re just spending more time coming back. Hitting all the sights.”
“With Pete.” I sigh.
“With Pete.” Isaac shakes his head. “Hey,” he adds, “It could be worse. Pete doesn’t hate you.”
I give him a judgemental look, to help him see how shortsighted he was thinking. “And if, say Brad was the one who you chatted with…”
“Right,” Isaac realizes quickly, “He would’ve said no the moment your name came up. It could’ve been Tim, though.”
I bite my lower lip, thinking a moment, then shake my head. “He’s too useful to have along for a full summer.”
Isaac, once again, shakes his head. This time, at me. “You weird me out sometimes, you know?”
I shrug. “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”
Isaac laughs, but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t like to admit it, but of everyone here, he is probably my only rival when it comes purely to how our brains work. I wander over to help out Pete packing up the truck.
“Hey, Pete,” I say, “How’re you doing?” I move Isaac’s far too much stuff for this trip into the bed before we attach the trailer.
Pete smiles and shrugs. “I’m doing alright. I feel kind of bad about butting in on your trip, though.”
I shake my head. “Don’t sweat it,” I lie through my teeth, “I haven’t even thought about it.”
Pete chuckles. “I just never took you for the partying sort,” he jokes.
He’s right. I’m not. Suddenly, I realize what I’ve been missing. Neither is Isaac. I smile and ask, “Maybe you should get to know me better before making such proclamations. Hey, where’s our map at? I just wanted to check traffic one last time before we head out.”
Pete nods. “I feel that. It’s over on the passenger's seat.”
“Thanks, Pete,” I reply, “I can help out more before I head over there, if you’d like.”
Pete waves me off. “You did more help than I expected already. I kinda figured, based on, well,” gesturing at his body then the two of us, “I’d be doing most of the manual labor anyways.” He chuckles
I give a chortle with him before heading to the passenger seat. The map lays there, every spot marked with a date, the day (or days in the case of the bay) that we’ll be spending there. Philly. Detroit. Chicago. Minneapolis. Black Hills. Then nothing until Portland. Then down to the bay, for me. LA. Flagstaff. Jaurez. Dallas. New Orleans for Pete. Pensacola. Athens. Nashville. The others, the ones Isaac chose himself for his trip without us, all have only one thing in common. And it isn’t the wild party atmosphere.
I shoot Isaac a look of judgement and realization. Walking over to him, I quietly say, “You’re scouting, aren’t you?”
“And you’re not?” he shoots back.
I glare at him a moment, then shake my head, pointing towards the map. “New Orleans is a bad call. They’re locked tight, from what I’ve heard.”
Isaac nods. “You think I don’t know that?” he muses. “Pete insisted. Wanted to see Bourbon street.”
“Tourists,” I mutter, irritated.
Isaac chuckles. “Tell me about it.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I just hope he doesn’t end up getting us killed.”
Isaac laughs. “Like that’s going to happen.” He smiles, then, seeing me looking incredibly serious, adds, “That’s not going to happen, right?”
I shrug and walk back to the passenger seat, where I look over the route, actually checking the traffic this time. I may have slightly exaggerated the likelihood of death, for effect. Assuming we follow the rules we laid out, we will be fine. I just don’t have faith in my compatriots to stop the party through the french quarter before dark. And to never use magic. I just plan on laying low, keeping my head down, and if the murderous hordes come after Pete or Isaac, denying I know them. That should work to keep me safe, at least.
A few minutes later, we all meet up at the hood of the truck. The small camping trailer is attached to the rear of the truck. “So,” I say, “What’s the driving schedule?”
“I figure we switch off driving,” Pete answers, “Can you both drive?”
Isaac and I both nod. Then Isaac looks confused towards me, “You sure Ter? Don’t you have to be, like sixteen or something?”
“How young do you think I am?” I give him a horrified look.
“Twelve?” Isaac jokingly replies. He chuckles at his own joke. No one else does.
Pete shakes his head. “I’ve seen her fake ID. Says she’s 23. Therese jokingly said she started drinking at fourteen, so my money’s on sixteen.”
“Seventeen, as of March, but close enough and I like the logic. Also, I’m still the most mature of the three of us.”
Both Pete and Isaac nod, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. “So, we drive in shifts,” Pete says. “I’ll take first four-ish hours and then switch with Ike. Therese, you’ve already checked out the whole route trafficwise, so why don’t you navigate us there.”
“Sure thing,” I reply, “And then I can take us to Chicago overnight, save us a day.”
“I like it,” Pete says, “Assuming you’re sure you can pull it off.”
I shoot him a quick glare, and he shuts right up. Isaac laughs at that as well. “Don’t piss Ter off, Pete. We’re stuck with her for a couple months.”
“Aww. Remember, Isaac, I know where you’ll be sleeping for the next couple months. Tempting fate is not ideal.” I smile my creepiest smile.
Isaac smiles right back. “It’s okay, I’ll be safe. At least until we hit the bay area.”
I shake my head. “But the easiest way to take care of you is on the way back, anyways.” We lock eyes for a moment.
Pete interrupts us to say, “Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”
I shrug. “Because you are,” I answer him honestly.
Pete shakes his head as he clambers into the front. Isaac gives me the oddest mix of a glare and a nod, then heads back to the napping chamber. I climb up into the passenger seat, and pull up the map. Pete pulls out of the Villa parking lot and, driving, asks me, “So, what’s up?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “You know, this road trip is going to be quite boring if you refuse to talk.”
I smile at him. “Perhaps for you,” I say, then pull out a small notepad and look out the window.
“Why’d you agree to drive overnight. That means you’ll be stuck sleeping while we’re in Detroit, won’t it?”
I shake my head. “Detroit isn’t really my scene. And doing that drive gets us across the country faster.”
“You excited for something?” he pressed. I remain quiet, looking out the window. Pete continued to talk. “Why do you think Isaac put in that magic rule? Because I have a theory that he thinks going without is going to help us appreciate it more, that a summer without magic will help us realize more how awesome magic is, but then I thought it might be the opposite, too, that he wants to show that living without magic is also possible and we can still have fun without it and also learning to go without will make us better, more rounded people, but then I was like, since when does Isaac care about being well rounded, right?”
I look over at him. “Perhaps you’re wrong,” I answer him.
“About Isaac? Maybe, but I’m a pretty good judge of character, if I say so myself.”
I shake my head, not really for his benefit. “No, in your reasoning. Isaac is practical.”
“So, what?” Pete asks, “What practical reason is there for not using magic? It’s not like a few minor sparkles or refills are going to be a big enough thing for witches to notice, and there aren’t magisters around to be keeping an eye on us. No, I’m thinking he just wants the normal road trip experience, rest stops and all.”
“You are right, with respect to other mystics,” I reply, blankly staring out the window, absentmindedly sketching the final moments of the sunrise, “But think a moment.”
He starts to speak, “Well, what else could he be worried -”
I cut the man off. “Don’t speak, think. Complete your thought. Then speak.” There it is, I muse. Blessed silence. I glance from the treeline over to Pete. The gears of his mind are turning hard. He wants desperately to talk, but he needs to prove his capability. He’ll come up with the answer soon enough. He just needs time to think. I pull up my music app on my phone, for after he has his revelation. My sketch is some garbage, but drawing isn’t my strong suit. It’s more doodling than actual art. I close my eyes, thinking of the sunrise I saw. Picturing in my mind the movement of the sun, the swirling of the colors as the time passed. Flipping the page, I start to draw that, a surrealist picture of the sky throughout the morning, rather than the reality of a single moment. It is not going to be good, but it will be insane looking. My kind of art.
Suddenly, Pete blurts out, “I’ve got it!” He seems to be excited that he knows the answer. “It’s other stuff.” He turns to see if I approve of his answer. I give him a kind, curious look as though to say go on. He interprets my look correctly. “Well, I was thinking, we don’t really understand what draws those things to us, but we know it has something to do with magic. Those, whatever they’re called. They’re why Villae are always isolated in location and also have all those weird protections. We’ll be outside those protections, so he’s taking precautions.”
I smile. “Close enough. Those things, as you so eloquently called them, the Magisterium’s research shows they’re attracted to the mystic. Isaac is simply keeping our footprint as small as possible.”
He smiles ear to ear. “I knew it. Well, I didn’t know it, obviously, but I knew I could work it out easily enough. That’s clever, I gotta say. We’re gonna party hard, you know…”
As Pete starts rambling about his plans, I connect my phone to the aux. He stops his rambling for a moment, realizing what’s happening. “You mind?” I ask.
“Depends on the music,” he replies.
As Sage the Gemini starts playing, I start subconsciously dancing. Ever so slightly. If Jason was here, he’d notice. Pete just notices the headbob. “Alright,” Pete says, “I mean, I’m more a rock guy, but this is pretty cool.”
I smirk. “Of course it is. I listen to it.”
Pete laughs. “Would you feel offended if I said this isn’t what I picture you listening to?”
“Depends on what you thought,” I reply, mimicking his answer.
He looks embarrassed. “Classical, like Beethoven or something.”
I hit the headrest in exasperation. “Really? God.” Shaking my head, I look out the window, jamming to my music in my own, subtle way.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Pete jokes at my response.
I turn my head and give him a deathly stare. He grows quiet and begins to focus much more intently on the road.
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