The Senior Trip

Chapter 22

ASHER

Do you remember when you used to believe your mom had magic powers? When she could kiss away pain after you'd hurt your knee? Well, some time ago I stopped believing in magic, but that feeling of healing from a simple touch has been found again. I feel it when Harper touches me, but also when she's just looking at me. When I have her attention it's like the world fades at the corners and I can only focus on her. She seems to be the medicine I need right now.

"This is so boring," she whispers not very quietly.

"Tell me about it," I drawl. The next slide is projected onto the wall showing teens getting completely hammered. It's chaos and the room erupts in laughter.

"I mean," she starts, "they do realize we are laughing at how lame this whole thing is and not at their attempt at humor, right?"

"I have no idea. I just want it to be over before I use my pencil to remove my own eyes." I stare down at the sharpened tip for full effect. She giggles and that magic feeling slips inside my chest again.

"You shouldn't joke around about that. There have been some serial killers who like to remove eyes." Her face is serious and now I want to know why she knows that fact.

"Eww," I say, my face pinching up in disgust.

Her eyes roll. "For real?" she asks incredulously. "Of all the horrible ways serial killers have committed their crimes, you are going to be grossed out about eye balls? I mean, have you heard of H. H. Holmes? Ed Kemper?"

"Why do you know so much about serial killers?" I ask, tipping my chair back on its hind legs.

"Don't judge!" she whisper-shouts. A few heads turn in our direction.

"Not judging," I reply, holding my hands up in surrender.

"I love true crime. It's my thing."

Why does that make me smile? This girl is a package of surprises and I love unwrapping each one.

Asking around about our phones was a complete bust. Of course. We're told we can come to our advisors if we need anything while we're here. Their policy is to allow us freedom to explore the country and they trust we can act like adults (although when they said that, the looks on their faces said anything BUT trusting us).

"We should sneak out and be the first people at the margarita bar," she finally manages an actual whisper.

My gaze catches on Jess as she giggles with her friends at the front of the room. It wouldn't hurt to get a few in before I have to watch her party all night.

"Ok. I'm going to go to the bathroom. Follow me out a minute later," I say as I tip my chair back to an upright position.

"Gotcha," she says.

When the advisor switches to the next slide, it's the perfect cover for my escape as the lights dim and it's hard to see anything. I head for the lobby and wait for Harper. It only takes a minute before the conference room door cracks open ever-so-slightly and she slips through. Her eyes light up when she sees me waiting and she shoos me to the front doors.

The night is warm and there is a certain freedom that is amplified by the fact we don't have our phones. This is truly what it feels like to be off the grid. Our friends can't reach us, and neither can our parents—not that mine would try.

"Not blended," Harper reminds me as she tugs me towards the bar beckoning us with flashing lights.

"Or on the rocks," I add.

And this is how we belly up to the bar and drink warm margaritas until the world all around us gets fuzzy and more than a little bit sideways.

***Please remember to vote! What songs should be playing at the bar?***