16 Things I Thought were True Part 17

I pick up my phone. "My Twitter update from the Lynden border showed no lineup and only a ten-minute wait," I announce to prove my phone facing can also involve helpful travel tips.

I break open the bag of Cheezies and put them up on the console so Amy can reach it. "Just so you know, I'm all for you getting five thousand followers, but you don't have to do it on the road trip."

"Thank you, Amy," I say, but the sarcasm is potent.

"Suck it up," Amy says. "Try interacting with real people for a change. You might even like it."

"Amy, you're far too little to be my mother. Besides, the one I have is bossy enough."

"My car, my rules," she says and sounds happy.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r I glance back at Adam. "Trade me spots?"

He raises his eyebrows and grins.

"Ha ha," Amy says, not at all offended. "You also have to arm pump all the truckers once we hit the highway."

"Clearly," I say.

"Wooooo," calls Adam from the back. "Arm- pump girl."

"No one is allowed to sleep, and that includes you, Adam." She glares at him with her rearview mirror. "I don't care if we do get stuck in long lineups at the border or the ferry crossing to Vancouver Island. No sleeping."

"Bossy pants is right," he says.

"My car, I'm the boss," she shouts happily. "This is not Tinkerpark.

Shut up and hand us more snacks. Pa.s.s Morgan the popcorn twists.

And I need Smarties."

It's noisy with paper and plastic rustling.

"You kind of take on a new personality behind the wheel," I say to Amy, but she's stuffing Cheezies in her mouth and ignores me.

Adam throws a bag into the front seat and it hits me in the head.

I open the twists and stick my hand inside. With my other hand, I reach for my phone.

"Hey!" Amy shouts.

"Just one more tweet," I beg. "To sign out. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them."

Adam leans forward and puts his hand over the seat. "Hand it,"

he says.

"No way." The thought of handing over my phone makes me hyperventilate a little. I hold it up so he can see and hold the power 106 sixteenthings.indd 106 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e b.u.t.ton down. "I powered it off. For now. See? I promise not to turn it on until...." I try and think how long I can hold out. "I'll need to check it again before we cross the border. In case there's any change with my mom."

Amy presses the volume b.u.t.ton on the stereo and turns it up so loud that no one can hear my answer. It's a new pop song, and Amy knows every word and sings along at the top of her voice.

I turn and catch Adam's eye. He's munching on a bag of salt and vinegar chips, but he shrugs and starts singing too. I roll down my window, lift my foot up to the window ledge, and wiggle my toes in the wind. We've driven away from the clouds, and the breeze feels good.

I love the outdoors of Was.h.i.+ngton and, despite my fantasies of escape, can't imagine living anywhere else. Mountains and water are in my blood. I wonder if Victoria looks the same. I know that it's similar to Was.h.i.+ngton in climate, but that doesn't mean I'm going to like it.

Ahead of us, a semitruck approaches. I scramble to sit up and stick my arm out the window and pretend to pull a horn. When he honks at us, we all howl with delight.

Over an hour later, we're out of radio- signal range and the CD is on its second cycle, turned to low. The bags of popcorn twists and Cheezies are half gone, and we've polished off a monster-size box of Smarties. After a short bout of singing at the top of her lungs, Amy started talking. I think she'd saved up. She can talk about anything and does. I don't mind, really. She doesn't require much 107.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r interaction, and it's about what my brain needs. Every once in a while, I grab my phone for an update and she ignores it.

"You're a good listener," she tells me.

I smile, but people always say that to me. I ask her about homeschooling, something I seriously considered when the video went viral.

"My dad and mom both taught me. Mom works on her book and Dad works on software projects in the home office. We had the best field trips. Plus, for one cla.s.s project, I opened a shop on Etsy."

And then she squeals.

"What?" Adam sits up straighter in his seat.

"In my pocket." She points to her hoodie. "Adam's bracelet."

"I thought you hit a deer," he calls from the back. "What are you talking about?"

I lift my wrist and show him mine. "She made a bracelet for my mom too. And my brothers."

"What a suck- up," Adam says, but he smiles.

I dig inside her hoodie and pull out a couple of bracelets. "The orange one," she says. "That's the one for Adam."

It's braided with yellow and brown strings. It's cool. I hand it back to Adam. "Put it on," I tell him and tuck the other bracelets back in her pocket.

"I can't tie it myself," Adam says.

I turn around, and he holds out his arm and I tie the bracelet on his wrist for him. His skin is dark, smooth. I turn quickly back to the front window when it's done.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e "My bracelets have magical powers," Amy says.

"Good to know," I tell her. She high-fives me as we pa.s.s a sign that tells us we're twenty- five miles outside of Lynden.

"Lynden once held the record for the most churches per square mile," Amy says. I don't know how she knows this stuff, but I'm too afraid of a long explanation to ask.

"Cool," says Adam from the back. They share a love of trivia apparently. I've learned all sorts of things listening to the two of them geek out, mostly about geography.

"Did you know the border between Canada and the United States is the world's longest border between two nations?"

I think hard. "Juno was filmed in Vancouver," I burst out. My favorite film of all time.

I'm met with silence.

"I never saw it," Adam says finally says.

"Me either," Amy says.

"Come on. You never saw it? Juno is the greatest movie ever made," I say. "I'm ashamed for both of you."

"Ever made? What about the cla.s.sics?" Amy asks.

"Juno is far superior," I a.s.sure her.

"Did you know eighty percent of pictures on the Internet are of naked women? Think about that for a moment," Amy says.

The car is quiet as we all wrap our brains around that random fact.

"We're almost at the border. Are you afraid?" Amy asks.

I glance over. Her lips are orange. I look at the steering wheel and see that the fingers on her right hand are also orange.

"About crossing the border?" I ask. "Do I look like it? G.o.d, I have 109.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r such a guilty conscience. Josh said they'll probably hara.s.s us at the border because we're young."

"Josh, the other twin? Does he look like Jake?" she asks.

"No. They're opposites in looks and personality. Jake is kind of introverted. Except with you apparently." She has the same effect on both of us.

"Well, my dad says I overcompensate- as in talk too much."

I laugh. "Don't worry. It's kind of your thing."

She nods. "I've crossed the border lots of times." She taps her fin- gers on the steering wheel. "Of course, that was with my parents.

My dad said to take it seriously. Give short answers to their ques- tions." She glances at me. "You should resist trying to crack a joke because you're nervous."

"Five miles." Adam points outside at a sign.

I reach for my phone but discover we're in a dead zone, out of Wi- Fi range. It makes me kind of twitchy. I'm edgy without Wi- Fi but yawn, suddenly tired. I glance at my phone.

"They'll ask a lot of questions," Amy says. "Like how long will you be in the country? Why are you traveling to Canada? What's the name of the place you're staying at?"

"I wrote the address of the Stingray Hostel down. I'll grab it." I reach for my backpack, dig inside, and pull out a notepad with the info.

Adam leans forward. "What are we saying our reason is for visit- ing? Let's get our story straight."

"I'll say I'm going to see my dad," I say, "since that's what I am doing." I turn my head and narrow my eyes at him to show him his question sucks. "You have a guilty conscience too?" I ask.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e "Maybe," he says. "Let's hope they don't have anything against teenagers or think we're drug dealers or something."

"We're driving her to see her dad- it's a dad- finding trip," Amy says. "We have nothing to worry about. My dad said I'm far too chatty to be a threat to Canada," she continues. "And I would never do drugs. Well, illegal ones."

I pick my backpack up and pat the pocket where my pa.s.sport is. "You're the last person I would ever suspect of doing drugs."

Rea.s.sured, I put the backpack back on my lap.

Amy glances at me and then back at the road. "You know, before?

I wasn't asking if you were afraid of crossing the border. I was asking if you were scared about seeing your dad." She keeps her eyes on the road, but the empathy s.h.i.+nes from her profile.

"I'm terrified." I glance behind me, but Adam is staring out the window, far away in his own thoughts.

I click the b.u.t.ton on my window to filter in some fresh air.

"Ewwww," I say and wrinkle up my nose.

"Skunk!" Amy calls. I quickly roll up the window, but the smell is strong and penetrates the gla.s.s. Sure enough, we whiz by a munched up little black and white creature on the side of the road.

"Awwww. Poor little guy," Amy says.

"I think he got his revenge." I plug my nose.

"Can you blame him?" Amy says. She's quiet for a minute. "I can't even imagine what it must be like not to know your own dad."

"Yeah," I tell her. "You're really lucky. Your dad is awesome."

"I am," she says somberly. I'm glad she appreciates what she has.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asks.

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