“I’m so glad you can come. It’s been a long time,” he says to the person on the other end.
Who is he talking to?
I drop an irritated glance at the Swiss Army watch fastened around my wrist. We should have left an hour ago.
“Sounds good. See you soon.” He hangs up the phone and plants his palms on the edge of the desk, leaning over his computer. He squints at the screen as he pulls at the top drawer, taking out a pair of cheater glasses.
“Dad, are we leaving soon?” I holler into the room, not moving from behind the door’s entrance.
He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me through the lenses that have slipped to the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, hey. Just finishing up some work stuff. But…” He pounds on the keyboard for a few seconds and then hits the power button. “There. All done.”
Finally.
“You ready for McCall?” he asks.
With a backpack carrying everything but the kitchen sink and a lifetime of waiting for this moment, I’m ready for anything. I’ve never heard of McCall, but I don’t care where it is we’re going as long as the Avalanche’s tires leave the garage.
“Born ready,” I say, leading the way.
Five minutes later, my mom perches her palms over the driver’s-side window.
“Did he say yes?” she asks.
“He did.”
“You boys have a good time then.” She leans through the frame and kisses him on the mouth. “And tell Jack I say hi.”
Jack?
“We will,” he says.
He punches our destination into the LCD screen on the truck’s dashboard.
The GPS system configures the route: a squiggly line about six inches long that ends with a dot labeledLower Payette Campground.
He backs out of the driveway onto our street, and ten minutes later, we’re cruising down the interstate.
This is it. Our time to get to know each other. I better use it wisely.
“Hey, Dad, have you ever heard of Silverwood?”
He grips the steering wheel at ten and two. “Isn’t that thenew coffee shop they just opened up by Sundance Mountain Resort?”
“That’s Wood River Brewing.”
“Oh. That’s right. Then no. I’ve got nothing.”
I drag the zipper open on the front pocket of my backpack. It catches three quarters of the way across, and I have to pry it open with both hands. Rolled up with a rubber band is the brochure I found at All Caught Up. Miles’s dad’s fishing shop has a rack of pamphlets next to the checkout desk, and this one has a wooden roller-coaster on the cover. Every seat is filled with people of all ages, their hands in the air.
“It’s a theme park near Coeur d’Alene.” I show him the image, and he steals his eyes from the road to glance at it.
“That’s your idea of fun?” He cringes.
Should it not be?I stare at the truck’s dashboard until it blurs into a mirage of the ride. I feel the rush of the wind on my face as I crest the highest peak. The plummet in my stomach as I tip over the edge. The thrill of the speed and the twist I never see coming near the end.
“Yeah,” I say, a grin on my face. “It is.”
