We were three quarters of the way through Wyoming, and aside from that creepy Best Western in the middle of nowhere, we hadn't come across anything that passed for civilization.
Well, that was an exaggeration. There was a gas station a few miles back, populated only by a creepy buck-toothed guy who reeked of beef jerky.
"Ethan, be a dear and pull up the Maps app? I need to know where we are," I purred in my best posh accent.
"Got it," he grumbled. Seconds later, his phone beeped, and he shouted as if he'd won the lottery. "Bro, we're almost in Nebraska!"
"What's so great about Nebraska, bro?" I snapped, imitating his idiotic way of speaking.
His cheeks were flushed red with excitement, the perfect red to contrast his yellow grin. "My aunt lives in Nebraska!"
"Well, that's great for you," Siena deadpanned. Ethan's giddy smile faded from euphoric to just okay.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Has somebody been listening to the PMS Playlist on Spotify again?" I mocked. Even if I waa as grumpy as Siena anyways, I still would never pass up a chance to burn my stepsister.
"No. But my dad lives in New Mexico. I hate to break it to you, bud, but everyone lives somewhere. What, are you going to visit her or something?"
Ethan's dumb smile came back as he turned to me. "Can we?"
I wiped my hand on my forehead, taking off the sunglasses I played with so much. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. A free night. Where does your aunt live, Ethan? Would she be okay with it?"
"Wait a sec," interjected Siena, her voice nasal, "why do we stop at Ethan's aunt's house? If she's anything like this kid she's related to, I don't want to spend a night at her house."
Both of us in the front seat chose to collectively ignore the whiny little kid in the back seat.
I sighed and looked back at the road, a death grip on the steering wheel. Siena said I was moody, yet she'd throw a mini-tantrum whenever we decided on something that wasn't her way. She looked at me expectantly through the rearview mirror, as if she was expecting me to comfort her or something. No offense to her (actually, she could take all the offense she wanted) but we weren't THAT close.
"So, do you think your aunt'll let us stay for a night at her house?" I sighed, dispelling the sustained silence that had fallen over the vintagemobile.
"Sure. I mean, Aunt Eleanor's old and kind of batty, but she'll recognize me. At least, she'll recognize me enough to let us in," he replied matter-of-factly, ignoring the obvious holes in what he just said.
"Great!" I said, as ignorantly as he. "Next stop, Nebraska!"
"Uh, excuse me?" Siena interrupted. "Since when did I have any say in where we're saying?"
"You don't. It's a free night at a real person's house. How is any part of that bad?"
Siena rolled her eyes. "Because Ethan's aunt is related to Ethan. She probably smells like mothballs."
A few clouds had formed overhead, blocking out the sun and dampening the bright hues of the sky. It was light enough, but it was easy to tell that a storm was brewing.
"So, your Aunt Eleanor," I replied, turning back to Ethan and permanently tuning out an irritating Siena. "Is she nice? Is her house big enough for us? Because I'm allergic to sleeping on the floor.
"Shît!" Siena cried, causing me to jump in my seat and accidentally lean on the horn, causing a way bigger commotion than I intended. "I-I forgot!"
"What'd you forget?" Ethan replied, his adorable jolly smile back on his face.
She put her head in her hands. "Contact solution... no wonder my eyes are burning up. I tried to find it, and it's not in my bag, and I must have left it at the hotel when we were running from that creepy owner!
"So? Don't you have glasses you can wear in the event that this happens?" Come on, Siena. Be reasonable
"Yeah, I do," she replied, her voice slowly softening like butter in a frying pan, "but I look SO dorky in them."
"You won't look dorky," I lied automatically, trying to spare her feelings and diffuse yet another freakout. "I've seen them. You look... geek chic."
"You're just saying that because you have to," she drawled, tilting her head to the side. "I mean, I look awful. I'd almost take the horrible vision over having to wear these things."
"Okay. Number one, stop moping. This isn't Full House. And number two--" Number two was that she had called me her family.
I wasn't going to point that out aloud- it might make her take back her words. If you chased a butterfly, it would only elude you more, but if you sat still enough, it would fly by you, maybe even rest on your shoulder. Where was I going with this metaphor again?
She tilted her head, totally interrupting my Zen. "What's number two?"
"Um... never mind. It was to stop complaining. You look fine, okay? Let's not create any unnecessary drama."
There was an awkward silence as I focused all my attention on the road and she looked back at whatever movie she was watching on her rayPhone.
"So, Ethan. For, like, the third time--"
"Aunt Eleanor's really old. She's like, thirty."
I sighed. You could sometimes take an Ethan quote, imagine a three year old saying it, and it would make more sense than it did coming out of Ethan's mouth.
"Okay. So, is she like your mom's age, or is she older?" I couldn't tell if she was eighty or twenty-five, otherwise.
"She's a few years younger than my mom." He shrugged his muscular shoulders, making his shaggy, adorable blond hair flop.
"So she's like, fifty? Maybe her late forties?" I asked.
"I don't know?!" He screamed, startling me so much I almost crashed the car. Ethan was sometimes a slow thinker. He was sometimes enraged. But when he was both at the same time, it was like an earthquake and a tornado had a baby and named it Ethan.
It was these tantrums that made me wish the car had an eject button, like in the James Bond movies, that could shoot Ethan out ofthe passenger seat. Because right now, Siena deserved to sit there. Ethan deserved to be ejected from the car and find his way to Italy.
If I was an animated character, a lightbulb would light off above my head. No, wait. It would be more than a ligthbulb. There would be fireworks, and maybe a disco ball that came down from the car's ceiling for a mini-dance party. Because I had an idea.
What if we just left Ethan at his aunt's house?
That would be mean. That would be evil.
...but hell, I'd dyed my hair pink. I deserved to live a little. Since when had morality stopped me before?
But could I? Would Siena agree? Would she help me, or would she tell Ethan? She hated Ethan, right? After all, he kissed her when he was drunk, and she never really like him in the first place.
My head was racing at the speed of light, swimming with each new thought. But the one lingering thought I had in my head was: would it really be possible to ditch Ethan at his aunt's house?
Siena and Ethan had struck up a conversation while all the thoughts were blowing around in my head. I hadn't bothered to listen, but when I turned in, Ethan was saying, "You know, you weren't really a bad kisser. I'd do it again."
And in slow motion, everything fell together.
Siena's jaw dropped.
My lips curled up in a sly smile.
I took this as a sign from God that we were meant to ditch Ethan on this trip. I knew.
Ethan had crossed one line too many, and I was done trying to fix him. A broken car goes to the scrap yard; a broken Ethan goes to Aunt Eleanor's house.