Page 25 of Even After Sunset

And we’re off.

Chapter Nine

Jackie

The air is muggy, and the seats are sticky from the late morning sun. Silas has been staring out his open window since he got in the camper. He smells of cheap liquor and beer, just like he did yesterday when I found him passed out on my bed.

I want to ask how long he’s been drinking like this. And where he got the booze last night, because like I said, I know he’s practically broke. But I also know that confronting him with this right now will only annoy him and make him shut me out completely. So instead I ask about the slew of spaghetti bracelets hugging his forearm that definitely weren’t there yesterday.

He lifts his arm and shrugs nonchalantly, as if neon jelly bracelets are part of every seventeen-year-old guy’s daily attire.

“A couple of girls bought a bunch of them last night.”

He doesn’t even bother taking them off. He just goes back to staring out the window.

I nod. “Oh. Cool.”

I guess that also explains who bought him the liquor, then. I glance at him one more time and can’t help noticing the lack of color in his face and how lethargic he is. Like maybe his sour, languid mood is due to more than just a late night of drinking. I suspect his only sustenance these past few days has been liquor and the occasional snack.

So fifteen minutes later, I pull into a McDonald’s drive-through and order two breakfast sandwich meals and coffees. When the attendant passes me a warm bag, I drop it into Silas’s lap.

“Here. Eat.”

He balances the unopened bag on the tray-like surface of the console in front of the cup holders. “I’m good, thanks.”

I roll my eyes. Great: here we go again with this whole battle.

“Would you stop making such a big deal out of this stuff?” I merge onto the main road and toss the bag back at him. “It’s a breakfast sandwich, dude. Not my life savings.”

He’s silent for a second, and I assume he’s finally swallowed his pride enough to eat the stupid sandwich. But he doesn’t open the bag.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Silas…” I sigh, trying my hardest not to sound patronizing. I just want him tohearme and take my words at face value for once. “It doesn’t matter how many times you push me away or try to shut me out or… orwhatever. I’m not going to stop giving a crap about you. And wanting to be kind.”

“Fine. Knock yourself out.” He spits, then turns and tosses the bag out the window. “Just stop buying me stuff.”

My eyes jerk from the window to the passenger side mirror, then to the road. I can’t decide if I’m more shocked that he ditched a perfectly good meal out of pure stubbornness, or annoyed that he just littered so callously. It will take eons for that bag to decompose, and I’m pretty sure the sandwich wrappers are made of a waxy paper that will sit there forever. Or get blown into a lake somewhere and choke some poor animal.

I look over at him, then check my mirrors again, then press hard on the brake and swerve Trudy around.

“Oh, for the love of…” Silas starts.

I ignore him and that already familiar eye-roll, and pull Trudy alongside the surprisingly intact bag of food lying by the roadside. I climb out, walk around the camper and pick it up, not looking up once at Silas, even as I climb back in and pull the door closed behind me.

I pull back onto the road and open the bag with one hand as I resume driving. I can feel Silas watching me as I fold the wrapper back and sink my teeth into one of the still warm bacon-and-cheese McMuffins.

“Mm mmm.” I groan through a mouthful of sandwich.

I glance at him. His eyes are slightly narrowed. Baffled? Disgusted? Possibly… remorseful?

I smile innocently at him and take another bite. “Sooo good.”

His stomach growls, then. Full-ongrowls.

When I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, he flips me the finger, and I can’t help smiling again.

“Geez, you’re stubborn.” I say, before looking back at the road. I place the rest of the sandwich on the console between us. Then add, “And also a litterbug.”

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