Chapter Six
She Told Me She Loved Romantic Comedies
(The Comedy, the Romance and Especially the Sick Feeling Afterwards)

Chris awoke with Cat's head on his shoulder. The rain outside poured, and an occasional flash penetrated the windows. Cat's hand had fallen off the armrest, and lay twitching by her side. "I know why you don't like me." Her hand tightened into a trembling mess. "I'm not half the person Rachel is. I'm the one who keeps hurting her. I'm the one who cheats, the one who runs away, the one in the corner, the one who always has nothing to say." Passing headlights streaked across her face. He stared like a priest trapped in a confessional. "She forgave me. I could never forgive myself. But Rachel," She moved to the window, and her eyes went back to tracing cars. "She was the first one there, the first one to say it wasn't my fault. She said it was okay. She said she would take care of me. But I can't. I won't let her. She can't forgive me. Not for that." Her reflection stared into his eyes. "She has to hate me. I have to make her. I have to make everybody hate me." She plowed ahead like a tumbling train, never taking a breath. "You have no idea what I did. You have no idea how despicable I really am. I sent her away. I sent mother away."

"Cat, stop this -"

"She was over the stove, but I didn't see her. I swear I didn't see her. I pushed Rachel in the wagon, but she couldn't steer it. It went into the kitchen, and slammed into the stove."

"Cat -"

"We had cabinets over the stove, where we kept our china. They were loose. When the wagon hit, they fell. My mother…" Cat pressed her head onto the glass. "She was caught between them." She took quick breaths, and turned back toward him. "You understand now? I have to make her hate me. I have to." He put a finger across her lips. His thumb brushed her tears. "Why don't you hate me?" she said. "You're supposed to hate me."

"I told her I'd take care of you." The trembling in her hand died away. "It's gonna be all right." The words echoed in his brain. He squeezed her hand. It wasn't the first time he said it. He promised Rachel the same damn thing, but nothing was all right. Everything was horribly wrong. He reached for his bag, unzipped it and pulled out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I'm setting things right. I'm fulfilling a broken promise."

Rachel pulled her father's truck to a red light and picked up the phone ringing in her purse. After she left the school that morning, she had driven around aimlessly. She didn't want to go home. She was in bad condition to drive. Tears blurred her vision, and father wasn't in the passenger seat. She looked around worriedly for cops as she put the phone to her ear.

"Hello."

"Rachel, it's Chris. Listen, We're gonna find a way to get you here."

She parked her car as fast as she could, and turned off the radio. The prospect of getting to Arizona seemed ridiculous, but she was willing to hear anything.

"How comfortable are you with driving?" he said. "I have a plan." She smiled at herself through the rear view mirror.

They planed for over a half an hour, coming up with all the worst-case scenarios, and what to do if they happened. What worried her was that they came up with nothing when it came to the actual police. She only had a learner's permit after all, and the seat next to her was empty.

"Then how did you get to school this morning?"

"Well, when my father left with Cat, I kinda stole the pick up."

"Then you're more suited for this than I thought."

"What do you have in mind?"

"You stole it didn't you? Why return it so soon?"

The plan was to follow the bus, even though she wasn't in her own car, and she didn't have a proper license. The airport was three hours away. Three hours of paranoid driving. She told him that was taking it too far. Her phone started complaining; she had forgotten to charge it. She still needed to call dad; he deserved to know who stole his truck. But she kept talking. By the end of the call, Chris' voice seemed miles away.

"The buses are scheduled to stop at Oak's mall for breakfast and gas. We're gonna arrive there in a couple of minutes."

"How the hell am I supposed to get there?" she said, "You guys have an hour head start. By the time I get there, you guys will be long gone. And what good will it do? They won't let me on the bus."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Then meet us at the mall," he said. "We'll be waiting." He hung up the phone.

She started her engine. After half an hour of planning, she was still in the dark. She called her father, told him where she was, and hung up the phone before he had a chance to yell. The only thing she knew was all the trouble she could get into, would get into. Still she couldn't help laughing. It was the fact that she pulled out of the parking lot, turned her radio up, and took the first turn our into the highway. She had never driven on it before and she felt like a criminal, but she laughed at her excitement.

It was a two-hour drive to the mall. The sun had just gone up in the last hour or so. She felt liberated without her father there. The radio was a little louder than usual. And her speedometer read a little higher, too. She felt comfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe, Chris was crazy enough to get her to the Fiesta Bowl. At any rate, she thought, he was a lot crazier than she had ever suspected.

On the road, she looked out for the police. She couldn't help being paranoid. She passed a police car twice and held her breath both times. She told herself to act normal, that they would never know if she just kept her cool. When one began to flash their lights, she nearly jumped out of her seat in a panic. She managed to gather herself and pull to the side of the road, still sweating from the scare. She quickly grew allergic to any siren and the color blue she swore was no longer her favorite color.

She found her father's shades in the glove compartment and put them on slowly, savoring the moment. She felt like a chick in a James Bond movie. So much so, that she couldn't help whispering her name. Dramatically, of course. "Askins." she said. "Rachel Askins." She decided that if Chris was crazy, she had no right to judge.

Thoughts of the Fiesta Bowl raced through her mind. It was that kind of ecstatic joy from the discovery that not all the doors are locked. There was still a little doggie door flapping in the breeze. She couldn't wait to squeeze herself in. She knew that the door might be locked when she got there. The plan might turn out for the worse, or course. But she trusted Chris. He was naïve, sure, but naivety was only a stone's throw away from genius.

She remembered that first trip her freshman year. They had won the competition. The bands marched by them one by one in salute. All fourteen of the finalist. She stood there mesmerized, staring at the competitors. The competitors she had defeated. All were fantastic bands. She couldn't believe it. She still couldn't. She needed to feel it again. Only then, she thought, would she really understand.

She wanted to see her flutes again, too. She wanted to show them what it's like to experience that rush. It's what made her into what she was. It's what made her fall truly in love with band. It was in that moment, that she decided her future. She wanted to become a band director, she said. And she was going to Arizona to affirm it.

The six charter buses pulled into the Oak's mall and a landslide of band kids filled the food court. Chris sat with Cat in the middle of the commotion. He watched as she played with her noodles. The line at the Chinese joint was the longest by far.

"You feeling better?" he said. She smiled back at him. She looked far better than she did on the bus ride. She had slept on his shoulder the rest of the way and she had awakened a different person. When he nudged her awake, her face went red with realization. He found it funny the way she slept with her mouth open. He didn't mind the drool on his shirt.

"I understand." she said. "I finally understand now, and I wanna come."

"You better come. I would've dragged you along either way."

"I need to talk to her," she said. "I wanna come."

"There's no going back."

"You say that like I have a choice." She said it through a smirk. "Plus, I don't wanna go back." She sipped on her noodles. He could tell she was nervous. The fork in her hand was too steady. "I've never done anything like this before. Are you sure you're ready for this?" she said.

"Nope." He smiled.

"You nervous?"

"Terrified. You?"

"I'm pissin' my pants."

"Well then," He rubbed his hands together as his chair screeched across the tiled floor. "Let's get started."

Rachel had to ask more than once for directions, but eventually after a long drive, she found herself at the Oak's mall. She pulled the truck up to the entrance. There they were. Just as he had promised. They were sitting on the bench. When they saw her, they jumped up and made their way to the pick up truck. Sam and Chris. She felt a surge of relief. She thought she had said goodbye that morning, but here they were. But something was out of place; she felt it the minute she pulled up. Now she realized what it was. She looked around as they reached the truck. The buses weren't there. The band was gone.

She jumped out of her seat and ran towards them. "You bastards." She embraced them both. "You bastards, how could you leave the buses?"

"We paid a few kids to call our name during roll call." Chris said. "Then a few more to keep quiet. They won't notice until they're at the airport." He walked up to the truck and patted the door. "Come on, hop in."

"What are we gonna do?"

"We're going to Arizona, of course." Cat said. "We're going together."