Page 21 of The Slug Crystal
Jake says, “No one over the age of twelve actually plays twenty questions.”
I avoid pointing out that we basically played twenty questions on the first leg of the road trip. It just doesn’t feel like a comment that will be very helpful.
Ben plows ahead. “That’s the point, man. There are no rules on the open road. Let’s act like we’re twelve and play a game that kids play. We could all be dead in a ditch in, like, two hours. Might as well be honest.”
I say, “You just want to harvest our tragic backstories for your blog. Also, you’re not driving, it sounds like you’re plotting to murder us to help you achieve fame.”
Ben shrugs, waggling his pen. “Tragedy is the universal language. And anyway, I already know your tragic backstories. I’m looking for the weird stuff. The real stuff.”
“That didn’t make me feel better about your driving. I second the no driving,” Jake adds.
Ben grins. “Come on, wimps.”
Jake glances at me, then sighs in defeat. “Fine. But if youstart asking for my mom’s maiden name or my first pet, I’m pulling over and leaving you in the median.”
“Deal,” Ben says, grinning so wide it nearly splits his face. “I’ll start.” He turns a little so he can see both Jake and me. “Okay, Emma, what’s the most embarrassing song on your phone right now?”
I’m not even embarrassed. “Probably ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ but only because I have the Glee Cast version, and two karaoke renditions, and one that’s just three Swedish dudes doing an a capella with random throat noises for the percussion.”
Ben’s pen hovers over the page. “That’s… specific.”
Jake says, “You once made me harmonize to that in front of a bunch of Girl Scouts.”
“They earned their campfire badge that day,” I say. “You were a solid contribution to their camp experience that I’m sure they will never forget.”
Ben howls with approval. “Alright, Jake’s turn.” Ben points the pen at him. “If you could switch places with anyone for a day, who would it be?”
Jake doesn’t even have to think. “Usain Bolt. He gets to spend most of his day running and gets paid for it, everyone respects him, and he doesn’t have to deal with—” He glances at Ben, then at me. “—this.”
Ben snorts. “I see you as more of a Simone Biles, honestly.”
Jake tips an imaginary hat. “Respect.”
Ben flicks the pen at me. “Hit me.”
“Same question,” I say. “If you could swap with anyone?”
He cocks his head, like he’s not used to having the same question boomeranged. “I’d want to be my dog for a day. She’s a rescue, six years old, doesn’t have a care in the world except tennis balls and naps. I think she’s figured out the meaning of life, honestly.”
I’m a little thrown by how sincere that is. Even Jake softens.
Ben nods at the terrarium on my lap, like he’s interviewing the snail. “What about Alex?”
Jake and I both answer in sync, “Garfield.”
We look at each other, then burst out laughing.
Ben grins. “Wow, you two really are in sync. I mean, if you weren’t obviously in love, I’d say you were siblings.”
There’s a brief, awkward silence in the cab. Jake takes a sip of his water before responding. “We’re not in love. We’re just—” He looks at me.
“—codependent like a fungus,” I add, to finish his sentence.
At the same time, Jake says, “—used to each other.”
Then Jake laughs. “Like a fungus? You think our friendship is fungal?”
Ben interjects, “Fungi are the foundation of all life, you know. They’re basically the reason everything else exists.”
