Last night most people had their final exams. That means that there were several big parties happening on campus and at this early hour, everyone is still asleep or drunk, like Jodie said.
We don’t see a soul on our way back to our apartment.
One hour later, my beat up Volkswagen Beetle is stuffed with all our belongings, and I drive us off the campus perimeter and onto the highway.
“Jo-Jo,” I say once we’re headed west and away from Hemlock Beach city limits. “I hope you know how much this means to me. You’re running away with me, putting your life on the line.”
My best friend’s tone is steady and confident. “You’re my best friend, the sister I never had. You’re my ride or die and I’m yours. You would have done the same thing for me if roles had been reversed.”
“You’re right.” I agree. “I hope you know I mean it.”
She nods. “I’ve never doubted that we’re each other’s lifelines. Besides, what else would I do? You got blood all over me too, explaining that to the cops without implicating you wouldn’t be easy.”
Guilt twists my insides and it feels like there’s lead in the pit of my stomach. “Where are we going to go? I have three hundred dollars in my account.”
“I have five hundred.” Jodie says. “Let’s just go as far west as that takes us. We’ll drive all night and stop tomorrow to rest and to dump our clothes and that pillowcase somewhere far, far away from here. We’ll stop when we’re out of money and look for jobs.Let’s lie low this summer and then we’ll see how things are in the fall.”
“Ok,” I say, still feeling guilty.
“Hey,” Jodie says. “We’ll be ok. This will be our little adventure. One summer to let loose and run a little wild. I’ll be the Thelma to your Louise.”
I chuckle at her reference. Old movies are another one of our binge watches when we aren’t in the mood for true crime.
I nod, feigning a courage I don’t really feel at the moment. “Deal. You and I on the open road on a wild summer adventure.”
Jodie opens the window and sticks her head out. “Ride or die, baby!” She screams into the wind.
With my best friend by my side, I feel hope that one day soon last night will be a distant memory.
CHAPTER THREE
NOTHING BUT TROUBLE
TUCKER
Star Cove California, Athletic Department Building
“Come on in, Prescott.”
Coach Harrison barks, and I fall in line like I always do.
A former NHL goalie, Coach Harrison has been my mentor since I tried out for the team my freshman year. After four years, I should be used to the way he barks every word that comes out of his mouth. No matter if he’s congratulating the team after a victory, or punishing us with suicide drills or bag skating, the Cove Knights have grown to respect and fear our head coach.
With graduation this week, I’m bound for LA to start my NHL rookie year with the LA Gladiators. Maybe he has some words of wisdom he wants to pass on to me. Whatever it is, I hope he makes it quick because we’re celebrating graduation with a huge party at the Gamma house and I promised to go get the kegs since I own a truck.
“Take a seat, son,” Coach orders and my ass hits one of the two chairs facing his desk faster than a puck drop. Itdoesn’t matter that technically he’s no longer my coach, since I’m graduating. Obeying his orders comes more naturally than breathing.
“How are you doing, Prescott?” He asks.
The question takes me a little by surprise, but I answer it nonetheless. “Great, Coach. I was just getting ready for a party tonight. Graduation is tomorrow and I’m all packed up. Summer training camp with the Gladiators doesn’t start until August, and I was planning on moving back home with my parents for a few months. I’d like to get a summer job since my signing bonus doesn’t kick in until I report to camp. My sister bartends at Joe’s on the pier, and she promised to speak to her boss to see if he needs a pair of extra hands.”
A tick in Coach’s jaw causes me to stop talking.
Coach Harrison laces his fingers together in front of him, his hands resting on the mahogany of his desk. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Tucker, so I’ll just come out and say it. I’ve received word from the Dean’s office that there was a problem with your credits and you aren’t going to graduate with your class this semester.”
“Come again?” I scoot forward in my chair, unable to hide the incredulity in my tone. “It’s impossible. I was here on a scholarship and I always maintained the 3.0 GPA required to keep my funding and my eligibility to play hockey.”
Coach Harrison opens a folder on his desk. “According to the paperwork they forwarded to me,” he slides the blue folder to show me the contents. “There are two classes where the grade officially registered was a B, but you actually got a D.”
