Free Thou Shalt Not Road Trip by Antony John Page B

have time for her, listen to her. If the author of
Halle-
freakin’
-lujah
can’t be there for her, then who the hell can, huh?”
    “She was
drunk!
Anyway, why did you tell her that?”
    “So she’d actually stop worrying for one millisecond!” Matt takes a deep breath. “They were inseparable, remember? Alex blames herself for what’s happened to Fran.”
    “Huh? What did she do?”
    “It’s not what she did; it’s what she didn’t do. Alex wasn’t around last summer, so she didn’t know how bad it had gotten. Fran wasn’t telling her half of whatwas going on. Problem is, I don’t think Alex really asked either. She’d finally gotten away from her parents, she was in L.A., and everything was great. It wasn’t until she heard about the tattoos that she realized how messed up everything was.”
    I almost wish he were right—that Alex is responsible for Fran’s transformation—but I don’t believe it for a moment. “I can’t look after her, Matt.”
    Matt rubs the red spot on his arm in slow circles. “I don’t want you to look after her. I just want you to get along.”
    “Why?”
    He looks directly at me. “For disagreement is sadness. And accord is joy.” He waits a moment to let my own words sink in. “But I guess that depends on the situation, right? Or maybe who you’re disagreeing with.”
    Fran and Alex reappear before I can reply. When Fran sits beside me I catch a glimpse of a Band-Aid wrapped around her left ear. Suddenly I have no appetite at all.

11:10 A.M.
    The Havasupai trail, Supai, Arizona
    The hike back is torture. My feet are blistered, and I remember the final mile of the trail will be a series of switchbacks that slope upward. Fran and Alex press ahead, holding hands. Right about now Fran must be feeling pretty smart that cross-country was the one school club she didn’t ditch.
    Meanwhile, Matt bounds along like a mountain goat. He shuttles between the sisters and me, pointing out rock formations and the crystal-clear water that crosses our path from time to time. I guess that hiking eight miles with an ascent of two thousand feet isn’t much of a workout for him.
    We’re halfway back when the distance between the others and me grows enough that I lose sight of them. I’m not really worried because the trail is obvious, but it makes me think of my event tonight, and whether I’ll make it on time.
    Right on cue, Matt reappears. “You okay?” he shouts. His voice echoes off a nearby rock face.
    I don’t answer. It’s a stupid question.
    As he waits for me to catch up, he bounces up and down on his toes like he’s afraid his legs will cool off in the ninety-degree heat.
    “Dude, I thought we’d lost you,” he says. “You trying to avoid us?”
    I drop my backpack on the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me we’d be hiking on this trip?”
    “It just came up.”
    “Oh, for— I’m not stupid, Matt! Colin told me he’d kept Monday free, and I never asked him to do that. Plus, that lodge was completely full. Are you telling me we just happened to grab the last two rooms?”
    Matt bites his cheek. “Okay. I was afraid you’d say no, so I didn’t mention it.”
    “I
would’ve
said no. This is a book tour, not a camping trip, you dork.”
    “Actually, it’s a combination book tour and road trip. Did you really just call me a dork?”
    “Yes. And will you please stop bouncing on your toes? Just ’cause you’re wearing appropriate footwear doesn’t mean you have to rub it in.”
    He looks at my feet and stops bouncing. “Oh,” he says.
    My sneakers are wet. A strip of fabric trails from my right shoe like a decorative ribbon. Tiny stones have been creeping into the hole left behind, and Iknow when I look at my foot later I’ll find raw skin. Or maybe no skin at all.
    “Sorry, bro. But you have to admit, the waterfall was beautiful.”
    “That’s irrelevant.”
    “No, it’s not. See, that’s the thing about you—you’re always so freakin’