One For The Road ✔ | A short novella |

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Chapter One

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"Let's go away for a while, You and I, To a strange and distant land." Weezer - Jessie

Newton Berry (near sea), UK, July 30th

Jessie

I stuff another bra into the side of the suitcase and garnish with a side of somewhat damp socks and a stiff sun hat that would better suit my Granddad, but I'm not in the mood to argue about it right now.

Mum seems pretty annoyed that my packing isn't to her standards, which is to roll everything neatly so I'll have space for the hulking great big hiking boots she insists I take, though I don't plan on doing any such hiking.

Again, it's best not to argue. Mum's in a pretty fragile state as it is what with my imminent departure, her only daughter jetting off in the morning for an American road trip for close to six weeks.

"Do you have everything darling?" she asks, huffing and puffing because she's annoyed I'm only taking a flimsy foldable rain mac and not something more "durable". "Can we go through the list I made again, just to be sure?"

I toss in a spare toothbrush and shrug. "I've got everything but the kitchen sink in here. I think I'll survive out in the wilds of Las Vegas without all those cereal bars, mum."

"But Jessica, darling you don't know that. I'm just worried that you'll be existing only on greasy burgers and chips for the next month and more."

"French fries," I correct. " And I'm eighteen, not eight. I can manage to feed myself sensibly." It's a small white lie but she'll never know. "Besides, those cereal bars are pretty minging mum, sorry."

She gives me a look that screams "you're breaking my heart", but she says not one more word. Her lips seal shut, which might be a first.

When she slips out my bedroom, to fetch what I can only assume might be the small first aid box she'd bought back in January, when I'd first come clean about mine and my best friend Ellis's plans to go travelling, I send him a text.

From: Jessie

To: EllisNextDoor

Mum. Is. Driving. Me. CRAZY. 

And you were right. (Yeah yeah. I know. You always are.) I should have packed at yours. Save me from this nightmare soon, please?

P.S What are you packing? Have you started yet? I'm stressing out a bit.

J x

I hit send and continue to shove in clothes that I've no intention of wearing but add just in case Mum has a mini breakdown again and cries through the night that I'm growing up too fast and becoming a woman. Not the little girl she's been careful to keep wrapped up in cotton wool.

Honestly, it's been like this for weeks. Months. To be fair I stopped counting the moment the post-it notes started to appear. First it was contained to the kitchen. Tiny, yellow notes stuck to the fridge to warn me about things like unmarked taxi cabs or fraudulent ATM machines.