“Eighty’s fast enough,” I say. “The last thing we need is a ticket.”
“Fine.” Kat sits back in her seat, all huffy. I rummage through my purse for something to give her, because I know all too well what happens when she goes too long without eating. “Here,” I tell her. “Here’s a piece of gum. Will that last you sixty-two miles?”
“Maybe,” she says, taking it. “But you’ve been warned. I’m bitchy when I’m hungry.”
“As opposed to other times?” Trevor asks, with a side glance and a quick smile at me.
Kat kicks the back of his seat and laughs. “Shut up. The only reason I’m nice to you is because of my friend up there in the front seat.”
My cheeks flare up and I turn to look far away, out the window. I’m ridiculously relieved by Kat’s comment, and once again feel like a bad friend for being so paranoid about her and Trevor.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. I reach for the volume knob and turn up the radio, which is tuned to some XM station I’ve never heard of, and none of us say anything for a long moment. Then Trevor speaks up.
“So. Parker. You thought about how you’re gonna approach this? Like, if we walk into an art gallery, and Julianna Farnetti is standing there in all her perfect, golden glory, do you know what you’re gonna say to her? Because it’s probably safe to assume that if she’s stayed hidden this long, she’s not gonna be happy about being found, you know?”
Kat sits up all of a sudden. “Or—oh my God, what if Shane’s there too? What if they staged the whole thing and ran off together and have been living a secret life ever since?”
“Why would they have done that?” I ask. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“And your theory about just Julianna surviving does?”
“More than both of them still being alive,” Trevor says. “He didn’t have any reason to run away. She kind of did.” He’s right. If she did, and has stayed away all these years, why on earth would she ever want to be found?
Panic zips through me. I hadn’t thought of that at all. Actually, I haven’t thought about anything past the idea of finding her, which, as much as I hope to, still seems unlikely. But if I really do, and I tell her about Orion, who’s to say she’d actually come back? And if she did, who’s to say he’d want her to? Who’s to say they’d actually end up together? Or that they should? What if, by doing this, I’m disrupting the way things were actually meant to be, as sad as they are?
It’s hard to make the distinction between believing I’ll find her and using the search for her as an excuse to finally set out and do something different. The prospect of having to actually say something to her, and where to begin coming up with the right thing to say, is almost enough to make me want to turn around and go home. Sit in my room and obediently write my speech, and go on with my uneventful and safe, predictable, planned-out life. I shake my head. “I have no idea what I’ll do or say if we find her. None.”
“Hm.” Trevor nods, but doesn’t add anything.
Silence settles over the three of us, filled in only by the background music and the barren desert scenery zipping by outside the window. I try to picture actually walking into the gallery and finding Julianna there. I see her standing to the side of a painting, maybe talking to a potential buyer who has fallen in love with one of her pieces. She doesn’t notice me at first, which gives me a chance to watch and observe just how much she’s changed, and how much is still the same. I don’t remember ever hearing her voice, but I haven’t ever forgotten her face—the high, delicate cheekbones, the olive skin and green eyes, the cascade of wavy golden hair. I picture it all still the same, only more beautiful in real life than it is in the photographs and on the billboard. And that’s as far as I get. What comes next? How do you approach someone who’s pretended to be dead for ten years? What do you open with?
“Okay,” Kat says, interrupting the thought. “I think if we find her, you just walk in and hand her the journal,” Kat says, as if she can read my mind. “That way she can’t pretend not to be who she is. The shock alone would give her away.”
“And then what?” I turn to Kat.
“And then . . . let her do the talking. See what she says. That’s all you can do because you can’t guess how she’s gonna react to being found.”
Kat’s probably right, but I don’t do wait-and-see very well. I like to have a plan to follow. “Okay, so what if she gets mad and tells me to leave?”
“Don’t.”
“What if she pretends she has no idea what it is?”
“Then bring up Orion. Tell her that he went back to town and has been there, pining for her ever since. Read to her from the journal. Anything. You’re only gonna get one chance with this, so you better make it count.”
“What if she’s not there at all?” I ask. “What if I’m wrong, and she really is in Summit Lake, down in the bottom of the hourglass?”
“Then you took a chance on something for once. You did something you wouldn’t normally do, and that’s what matters. Right, Collins?”
Trevor’s been quiet this whole time, maybe thinking of different scenarios on his own, but now he nods. “It’s true.” He glances at me again. “Taking a chance can be worth a lot more than you know.” He puts his eyes back on the road—the one in front of us that’s unknown and wide open. The road less traveled. And somehow I think he’s not just talking about this trip. There’s something in his voice that goes straight to my stomach and sends a warm tingly feeling right through the rest of me.