Am I delirious right now?
I rub the sleep from my eyes, searching my screen for the time.
Shit, it’s early.
Super fucking early.
I blink several more times, waiting for my brain to catch up with reality. Maddie Miller is asking me for a favor. Harper said I was manifesting her and she was not wrong; I am holding the proof in my hand. She needs a ride to school.
Her + me + my car.
Together.
The thought sends a jolt of adrenaline through my half-awakebody. This is either the greatest moment of my life or the setup for a very cruel joke—because I DO NOT HAVE A FUCKINGCAR.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I try to figure out how to respond.
Do I just tell her I don’t drive myself to school? Or do I make a sarcastic comment about how she should text someone she’s actually friends with to take her?
Fuck. I am freaking out, man!
She could have asked anyone for a ride—literally anyone—but she’s asking me. And even though I have no idea where she actually lives (I’d never be creepy enough to investigate or look it up for no reason), I’m determined to find out.
“Oh God, what do I do?” I moan. Except guess what? God doesn’t care, and he’s not going to jump out of the closet to help.
I run a hand through my messy hair.
Maddie is expecting me to say yes—otherwise she wouldn’t have texted me. Would she think I’m blowing her off completely if I say no?
I can’t tell her no. Not when part of the reason I’m in the mess with Harper is because of a dare—one concerning Maddie.
Me:Morning. Uh. Hold on for one second, k?
Throwing off my blanket, I stumble out of bed. There’s only one person who can help me, and that person is my mother.
I sprint out of my room, dash down the hallway at a frantic pace, and throw open my parents’ bedroom door. I don’t bother knocking; I fling it open like Indiana fucking Jones and race directly toward the bed.
Dad’s already off on his usual pre-office workout. Mom is still asleep—but this is an emergency and it cannot wait! A Maddie Miller–sized emergency. Mom will understand. I shake her awake, hands on her shoulders, gently hissing her name.
“Mom!” I hiss. “Ma! Mom.Mom.”
She groans.
“Mom. Mom. Mom. Are you awake?”
Her eyes crack open. “Oh my god, Easton—what?”
“I need your car.” I waste no time blurting it out. “It’s an emergency.”
My mother pushes herself up on her elbows, trying to make sense of the situation. “An emergency?” Her voice is gravelly. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”
Of course she would assume something bad happened.
“No one is hurt.” I inhale a deep breath and let it out in one long, run-on sentence. “Maddie Miller texted me and needs a ride to school and since I don’t have a car I can’t drive her and if I don’t take her she’ll think I don’t like her or something.”
My verbal diarrhea is next-level.
My mother blinks, trying to process everything I just said. Trying to wake up.
