Read Online The Summer the World Ended by Matthew S. Cox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matthew S. Cox
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waving finger. “I don’t care what they say. This is your last night home. I’m sleepin’ over.”
iles of highway passed in awkward silence. Riley aimed her eyes out the window but didn’t really look at anything. The road, guardrails, grass, and trees all blurred into a meaningless haze. It didn’t help that she’d stayed up until something like three in the morning. For a few glorious hours with her best friend, she’d forgotten all about everything. Amber’s parents showed up at 7:30 a.m., and insisted on taking them all out for breakfast. She wondered what everyone at Perkins must’ve thought when she and Amber sobbed all over each other in the parking lot.
Riley’s head wobbled. She caught herself fading.
“Go ahead and sleep if you want. We got a long ride,” said Dad.
She drifted in and out, losing an hour here and there. A bump knocked her awake as Dad pulled in to a Motel 6 parking lot. Riley sat up and stretched out a yawn, frowning at the dark sky.
“Where are we? What time is it?”
Dad opened his door. “About fifteen miles over the Illinois border. Twenty hundred ten local time, but twenty one hundred ten eastern.”
“What?”
“Uh… we crossed a time zone.” Dad climbed out. “Be right back.”
He walked past the nose at a brisk stride and headed for the office. Riley pulled the iPhone out of her pocket, which said 9:11 p.m.
Illinois.
A lump tightened in her throat. Already so far from home, so far from Mom’s grave, her friend, her life.
She sulked at the dashboard, spacing out for about ten minutes. Dad returned, climbing back in without a word. He drove around to the back of the building and parked by a row of doors. She didn’t feel like moving, sitting listless as he retrieved a backpack from the rear bench seat and went into one of the rooms. It felt like they’d betrayed Mom by selling the house she’d loved. That’s where Riley wanted to be, not some lame motel. She let her forehead rest on her knees, and shut her eyes.
Dad opened her door, letting a wash of chilly air in. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I can’t let you sleep in the truck. You’re gonna be in it all day tomorrow too.”
She spun a quarter turn to her right, slid off the seat, and jumped down. Her flip-flops hit the pavement with a loud echoing slap.
“Do you own any real shoes, or just those foam things?” Dad pushed the door closed. The truck chirped and locked.
“They’re packed.” Riley trudged to the room.
“You should bring something to sleep in, and a change of clothes.”
“Packed.” She shoved the door out of her way, halting in the space between a pair of twin beds.
“Toothbrush?” Dad pulled the door shut behind him and locked the deadbolt and chain.
“Packed.”
Riley sat on the bed farther from the window, staring at her frayed jean shorts and Garfield t-shirt. The last time she’d worn them, Mom was still alive. Dad sifted through the vertical blinds on the window, looking at the sill. He pulled the chain to close them and turned. The beginnings of a smile fell away to a momentary look of concern.
“What?” She blinked.
“Oh. I was… I usually don’t like to sleep near windows. Drafts.”
“Whatevs.” Riley stood.
Dad cupped a hand over his chin, rubbing. “No, it’s okay. Pick whichever one you want. This trip isn’t fun for you.”
“It’s fine.” She flopped onto the other bed.
Dad rummaged through papers on the table by the window. “Wanna order Chinese? Pizza? I think I saw a fried chicken place across the street.”
“Not hungry.”
“You need to eat something, Riley. There’s nothing to you.”
Riley rolled over to face him. “You should talk. I don’t have an eating disorder. I get enough crap at school. I don’t need it from you.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t trying to pick on you, hon. Half a sandwich for lunch, and you barely touched your omelet this morning. You need to eat. I’m worried.”
“Sorry.”
iles of highway passed in awkward silence. Riley aimed her eyes out the window but didn’t really look at anything. The road, guardrails, grass, and trees all blurred into a meaningless haze. It didn’t help that she’d stayed up until something like three in the morning. For a few glorious hours with her best friend, she’d forgotten all about everything. Amber’s parents showed up at 7:30 a.m., and insisted on taking them all out for breakfast. She wondered what everyone at Perkins must’ve thought when she and Amber sobbed all over each other in the parking lot.
Riley’s head wobbled. She caught herself fading.
“Go ahead and sleep if you want. We got a long ride,” said Dad.
She drifted in and out, losing an hour here and there. A bump knocked her awake as Dad pulled in to a Motel 6 parking lot. Riley sat up and stretched out a yawn, frowning at the dark sky.
“Where are we? What time is it?”
Dad opened his door. “About fifteen miles over the Illinois border. Twenty hundred ten local time, but twenty one hundred ten eastern.”
“What?”
“Uh… we crossed a time zone.” Dad climbed out. “Be right back.”
He walked past the nose at a brisk stride and headed for the office. Riley pulled the iPhone out of her pocket, which said 9:11 p.m.
Illinois.
A lump tightened in her throat. Already so far from home, so far from Mom’s grave, her friend, her life.
She sulked at the dashboard, spacing out for about ten minutes. Dad returned, climbing back in without a word. He drove around to the back of the building and parked by a row of doors. She didn’t feel like moving, sitting listless as he retrieved a backpack from the rear bench seat and went into one of the rooms. It felt like they’d betrayed Mom by selling the house she’d loved. That’s where Riley wanted to be, not some lame motel. She let her forehead rest on her knees, and shut her eyes.
Dad opened her door, letting a wash of chilly air in. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I can’t let you sleep in the truck. You’re gonna be in it all day tomorrow too.”
She spun a quarter turn to her right, slid off the seat, and jumped down. Her flip-flops hit the pavement with a loud echoing slap.
“Do you own any real shoes, or just those foam things?” Dad pushed the door closed. The truck chirped and locked.
“They’re packed.” Riley trudged to the room.
“You should bring something to sleep in, and a change of clothes.”
“Packed.” She shoved the door out of her way, halting in the space between a pair of twin beds.
“Toothbrush?” Dad pulled the door shut behind him and locked the deadbolt and chain.
“Packed.”
Riley sat on the bed farther from the window, staring at her frayed jean shorts and Garfield t-shirt. The last time she’d worn them, Mom was still alive. Dad sifted through the vertical blinds on the window, looking at the sill. He pulled the chain to close them and turned. The beginnings of a smile fell away to a momentary look of concern.
“What?” She blinked.
“Oh. I was… I usually don’t like to sleep near windows. Drafts.”
“Whatevs.” Riley stood.
Dad cupped a hand over his chin, rubbing. “No, it’s okay. Pick whichever one you want. This trip isn’t fun for you.”
“It’s fine.” She flopped onto the other bed.
Dad rummaged through papers on the table by the window. “Wanna order Chinese? Pizza? I think I saw a fried chicken place across the street.”
“Not hungry.”
“You need to eat something, Riley. There’s nothing to you.”
Riley rolled over to face him. “You should talk. I don’t have an eating disorder. I get enough crap at school. I don’t need it from you.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t trying to pick on you, hon. Half a sandwich for lunch, and you barely touched your omelet this morning. You need to eat. I’m worried.”
“Sorry.”
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