The Murmurings by Carly Anne West Read Free Book Online Page A

many times I’ve burned myself on those damn metal buckles. Evan slides into the driver’s seat and leans across me to point the air vent in my direction.
    “Better?” he asks, just inches from my face.
    “Perfect,” I breathe more than say. How does he still smell so good even in this heat?
    “It’ll cool down in just a second,” he says apologetically. “My car may not look like much, but this baby’s AC still works like a champ.”
    “So, how soon do you have to be home?” he asks, and I want to say never. Aunt Becca said she’d drag Mom out this evening, to a meeting or a class or something. Some sort of effort to get her out of the house on a Saturday night. I have to go home at some point, but not as early as I might have to otherwise.
    “I don’t know. I can stay out a while,” I say, hoping that was the right answer.
    “Okay,” he says. “Good. Then my plan’s not shot.”
    I breathe a nervous sigh that does nothing to settle the fluttering in my stomach.
    In minutes, we’re climbing the ramp to Interstate 17 heading north. Evan’s fiddling with the radio, and an old U2song rattles the speakers between us. His hand rests on the gearshift, mine in my lap, cooling under the icy air (he was right, the AC works just fine). We don’t talk at all, and I let myself close my eyes and think what it would be like if this was all normal, if this was like any other day.
    “Hey, you okay?” Evan’s voice drifts into my thoughts, and I open my eyes. We’re not driving anymore, and the music has lowered to a faint, tinny babble. We’re pulled over at a rest stop that looks only vaguely familiar, somewhere off the Interstate amid honest-to-God tumbleweeds.
    “Oh!” is all I can say, embarrassed beyond belief. I’m not sure I’ve ever been that lost in a daydream. I must seem like the biggest freak of nature.
    He laughs. “I can take a hint. You’re bored.”
    “No!” I say fast, grabbing his hand without even thinking about it, then immediately let go like it burns my skin. This just makes him smile that incredible smile, and my heart melts to a little puddle inside of me.
    “You need a restroom break?”
    I shake my head. What I really need is a break from my thoughts.
    “Well, since we’re here, I’ll be right back. I just have to grab something really quick,” he says, and slides out of the driver’s seat before I can ask what he’s doing.
    Evan disappears around the corner opposite the men’s room, his hand fishing for something in the pocket of his jeans. He returns with a handful of yellow packages, but dumps them in the trunk before I can get a better view.
    “Sorry, we’re good to go now,” he says, starting the car up. “You ready?”
    “I have no idea,” I say.
    He smiles again and peels back onto the interstate, continuing north.
    I’m in a state of perpetual anticipation: what he’ll say, if he might brush his hand against mine. I worry he’ll ask me to pick the music, and then I’d be forced to admit I have zero idea of what’s considered cool. All Mom and Aunt Becca ever listen to is music from the 1960s, and Nell and I grew up thinking it was totally normal to be more familiar with the Rolling Stones than anyone contemporary. So I busy myself with the view out the window, grateful that Evan’s already picked a classic rock station.
    I have seen this same stretch of road too many times to count. Soon, this dusty path will turn from cacti and Joshua trees to pines and agave shrubs. Growing up, Mom and Aunt Becca would pile Nell and me into the back of Mom’s car, and we’d take a day trip to the strange, exotic forests of Prescott or Flagstaff that would suffice as summer vacation.It all seemed lush and special. We didn’t know we were taking a day trip because Mom could never have afforded to treat all of us to an amusement park or a hotel. We had fun running wild in the woods anyway—smelling pine cones as if we were the first people on earth to discover them;