A good night's sleep proved just what the doctor ordered. The motel, though very small, proved very comfortable. The room was furnished simply, just two full sized beds, a dresser (atop which sat a TV), and a desk. Attached to the room was a bathroom.

Light shone through the window, causing me to stir. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Slowly, I went through the surroundings I was aware of in my groggy state. The pillow beneath my head was my own, but I was sure the bed was not. The walls were an unfamiliar color, a light brown. The furniture was dark, a wooden material that was unfamiliar when in contrast of the black, sleek modern wood in my bedroom at home.

The sound of Whitney's breathing brought the previous day back to me in one, forceful blow.

My decision to be free. Leaving my home for Washington. Being lost on the road. Toto. Kansas. The gas station. Debbie Downer. The mental images ran continuously in my mind, like a movie on fast forward, all the way up to where I was now. Laying on a bed in a motel somewhere in the small Indian reservation of La Push.

An unfamiliar place, unfamiliar people, and of course, who could forget? The fact that I could barely recognize myself.

That could prove to be a problem.

My phone, which I had sat on the bedside table that was in between the two beds, went off, singing Umbrella Beach by Owl City. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and checked my phone, the light of the screen bright to my eyes. It was just the alarm. Was I so out of it that I could not even recognize my alarm?

I shut it off and glanced over at Whitney, who was still fast asleep. While wondering how anyone could be that deep of a sleeper, I crawled out of the bed and went over to where my suitcase lay open.

I hastily grabbed some clothes and toiletries and headed into the bathroom, the cold tile beneath my feet chilling me to my core. I set my things on the counter and undressed before turning the shower on. I marveled at hotel water heaters.

When I was all finished in the bathroom, I headed back out to my suitcase; but not before I noticed Whitney out of the corner of my eye.

She was sitting on her bed, holding my phone in her hands. Her eyes where fixed unseeingly on the small screen.

"Whitney, what's wrong?" I asked, throwing my stuff back in my suitcase.

She said nothing, but I knew it wasn't because she was ignoring me. I sensed that something was the matter.

I sat down next to her and looked at the screen of my cell phone.

There, on the screen under the words "NEW TEXT MESSAGE" said the one word that I had been expecting. Of course, I hadn't expected it so early. The word "PARENTS" seemed to shout at me, attempting to make me feel guilty.

"I haven't opened it yet," Whitney whispered nervously, hands trembling.

I slid my phone from her nervous fingers and opened the text.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Calmly, I dialed the number. Whitney snatched the phone away from me when I had but one digit left to punch in.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" She bellowed, clearly not remembering where we were, a motel, where people could hear her.

"No," I said, displaying no emotion. I was proving to her that I was of a perfectly rational mind.

She didn't buy it. 'Why call them? You'll be shouted at!"

"No, I won't. Now give me my phone back."

"No way!"

"Fine then." I stood up and walked over where Whitney's phone sat. I picked it up, and before she could even think of what I was up to, I sprinted to the bathroom.

She was fast, but I was faster.

I bolted the door behind me.

"Danielle!" You get out here right this instant and give me my phone back!" She pounded on the door, but to no avail.

I dialed my parent's number and listened to it ring on the other end.

"Hello?" My mother's voice answered.

"Mom, hey, it's me," I calmly greeted her.

"Danielle Renee! Where are you? Your father and I have been worried sick!" Her voice was not filled with anger, but worry.

You're home?" I asked. "I thought you had been in Twin Falls."

"We were. W got home a little over an our ago. Now where are you?"

"Washington. Whitney and I left for Washington."

'Without telling me? Why? When was this planned?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Yesterday at school."

"Are you safe?"

"Yeah, we're in a motel in this place called La Push. It's all cool," I assured her.

"What about Whitney's parents? Do they know she's there?"

"Her dad bought the gas, mom," I answered. I figured it to be a safe answer, as it wasn't saying her parents did, or didn't know.

"Look, you need to get home."

"No. I can't, and I won't. I'll never grow up if you keep me sheltered my whole life. This si my adventure, and I'm going to live it out until the end. I'll be home Sunday. Love you."

With that, I hung up. I unlocked the bathroom door and watched Whitney fall to the tiled floor of the bathroom, not expecting the opening of the door.

"Oof!" She said when she hit the floor. She sprang up. "So, are you in trouble?" She asked the moment she was on her feet.

"Probably," I shrugged. I handed her phone back to her and she gave me mine.

"What do you mean by 'probably?' You either are or you aren't."

"I'm not sure of which one yet," I said, walking out into the room. "It's probably the first one though."

"PROBABLY?!" Whitney repeated.

"Yep. Now get cleaned up. Let's really start this adventure."