Killifornia Just before the official start of afternoon a blue coupe slowed across the road as the driver motioned to the girls. They’d been there for awhile, the hot sun baking them and their cute summer outfits. Several cars had stopped for them, two pretty girls, pretty in opposite ways, but either the drivers were unsuitable to the girls or the girls were going in the wrong direction. Sarah waved her long thin arms over her head to signal the man. “Wait, this guy’s stopping. Wave Pam! Hello, over here!” He let the oncoming traffic pass then rolled around the median so he was facing the girls. “Oh Sarah,” Pam whispered as he drove to meet them. Sarah stopped waving and turned to her. “What?” “He looks weird.” He didn’t look anything like the college boys they usually spent time with. There was something rough and seedy about him, although he seemed pleasant enough when he stopped where they stood and leaned towards them. “Good morning,” he shouted genially, then asked where they were headed. Sarah leaned into his window. “Roche Fine Arts school,” she said sweetly, batting her considerable lashes. The young man removed his black sun glasses and glanced down at the clock on his dashboard. “Where’s that?” he asked. Sarah pointed a finger south. “Towards Monica Piers?” “I can take you,” he decided, reaching across the car to open the door. Sarah called shotgun and went for the lever on the front seat so Pam could climb in the back. She caught Sarah’s arm. “Wait a minute, let’s talk about this,” she whispered, not wanting the young man to hear. Sarah’s features contorted into pretty disapproval. You could imagine her making that face for men and getting whatever she pleased. “Talk about what? You want to see Ted, right?” She did, and they had no other way to get to the campus. Roche was a good three hours away and their other roommate had the car for the weekend. The young man cleared his throat, calling Pam’s attention. “I don’t have all day,” he said, rigidly polite as he ran a rather delicate hand along the steering wheel. Sarah gestured to the back. “Just get in. Live a little, for Christ’s sake.” Pam resigned herself to bullying fate with a sigh as she climbed into the back seat. The young man slid his glasses on again as Sarah moved in next to him. With a slam of the door they were on the highway, Pam looking out the window and wondering if this was one of those things she would later regret. *** Everyone hitchhiked on the coast. The cardinal rule, or so Pam told Sarah as they were getting ready that morning, was obey your gut. If something seemed off it probably was. Pam had been put off by this young man at first, though she couldn’t specify the reason. She just felt unease as he drove towards them. The lowering of his eyes and the curl of lips indicated something insatiable, or so she surmised in those few seconds before he asked where they were headed. Now he appeared charming and relaxed, save for his fidgeting hands, which flitted all over the cab looking for something to occupy them. While the young man was rather large, broad across the shoulders and chest, his hands were small. It made him seem delicate in some way, even though he was quite clearly not. “You girls’ students?” he asked once they were on the road. “Yeah, but not at Roche. We go to Langley,” Sarah answered breezily. He pressed his lips together and nodded as he reached out for the radio dial. “I know some girls who went there.” “Oh yeah? What are their names, maybe we know them,” Sarah said. The young man indicated they didn’t with a sway of his thick neck. “No, probably not. It was a few years back, they’ve since moved on.” Pam leaned through the seats to address the young man. “Do you go to school?” she asked. He returned her gaze in the rear view mirror. “No. I work for a living.” “Are you saying we don’t work?” Sarah asked teasingly. The young man turned and fixed a sweet, amused smile on her. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ll bet you never worked a day in your life.” “You’d be wrong. All this past summer I worked at Beulah’s.” “It’s a candy store,” Pam added impulsively from the back. The young man laughed, while Sarah gave her a cross look over her shoulder. “Still, it was work.” Sarah turned back to the young man in the driver’s seat. His gaze was fixed on Pam, who was looking at him. She realized her first impression was wrong, he wasn’t weird looking at all. He was actually quite attractive. “So,” Sarah started, sensing her appeal was slipping, “where do you work so hard, Mr. work hard?” “I’m actually between jobs now,” he told her, bouncing between Sarah’s face and the mirror. “I used to work in a factory. I had an accident.” “What kind of accident?” Pam asked. He looked to the mirror again. He seemed to address her seriously, while everything he said to Sarah was drenched in sarcasm. “Head injury. I was in a coma for awhile.” “Oh wow,” Pam said, feeling genuinely sorry, rubbing her hands along her thighs. “But you’re OK now?” “Right now I’m fantastic,” he answered, showing all his teeth as he smiled just for her. At that exact moment Sarah lost interest and after so long she fell asleep. Just like a baby she would get lulled into a trance by the sights and sounds of the moving vehicle and soon enough would drift off to sleep. Neither of them spoke at first. Then the young man looked up and asked if Pam smoked. She said she did and he passed her a pack of cigarettes and rolled down his window to accommodate her. “Thanks,” she said, passing the box back to him. He pulled one out with his teeth and pushed in the cigarette lighter. “I should thank you guys, I really didn’t want to make this trip alone.” “Where are you going?” The lighter popped out. The young man reached down to it. “My mother, she’s gonna die,” he told Pam with no emotion, taking the nub of the lighter and holding it to his cigarette. He sucked in until the tip was glowing red, then pushed the lighter back into the housing. “She’s real sick, I mean. It’s not good.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s OK. Thank you.” “Is she in the hospital?” The young man paused to take the cigarette from his lips and coughed into his hand. “Uh-huh, yeah.” Sarah fingered a matchbook she’d found under her on the seat, flipping it open to read something scrawled inside, then closing it again. She dug her nail into the recessed gold lettering. “My brother died recently,” she said, letting the matchbook fall from her finger tips to the floor. “He had cancer. He was really young, like 15. I didn’t know what to say to him. It was just so unfair and he knew it. He was really angry about it.” “I can’t say I blame him.” “I moved away, I just couldn’t take it. My mother is so fucking sad all of the time.” “There’s no reason to be sad about death. I mean, sure you’ll miss the person. But by itself, it’s not sad. Some people are better off.” Pam looked up at him in the mirror. “Not my brother.” “No, not him. My mom will be. Some other people too. It all depends.” Pam nodded, unexpectedly moved by his comments. He took off his glasses. From the distance she couldn’t tell if his eyes were green or brown but they were expressive and when he fixed his unrestrained gaze on her in the mirror it was startling. “Your friend’s snoring,” he said, smiling slightly. Pam looked down into her lap, sharing a nervous laugh with her clasped hands and the peeling red vinyl of the back seat. *** There was a bit of disagreement when they reached interstate. Sarah was sure Roche was further up the coast. “Near the dam,” she insisted. The young man shook his head. “The Monica Piers are the other way. I know, I used to live out here.” “Roche is near the dam, I’m telling you. We used to go up there all the time and get high.” A weird sort of quiet came over them. Pam wished Sarah would have stayed asleep. She woke up in a foul mood, probably because their shared laughter is what woke her. She was envious that she wasn’t the one making him laugh. “You know, Sare, I think he’s right–” Pam started. Sarah swung around in the seat with her hand raised. “Shut up, Dorster, I used to come here all the time.” “Look,” he said, taking his hand off the wheel and pointing across the passenger’s seat, coming close to Sarah’s face, “that’s Castreville. On the other side of that is Surrey. The complete polar opposite direction of Monica Piers. Which is that way.” He pointed to a sign for an upcoming exit on the other side of the highway. Sarah threw up her hands. “Fine. Whatever.” “Where have I heard Surrey before?” Pam asked from the back. Sarah answered as she rooted through her purse for something. “That’s where all those girls kept getting killed, from Briar.” “Oh yeah, that’s right.” A clutch of girls’ bodies were found in a wading pool one summer. It was believed to be the work of a serial killer, due to little clues and embellishments found near every girl, like playing cards and matches books scrawled with cryptic messages. “What was that guy’s name?” Pam asked aloud, highly intrigued by such lore. Sarah turned to face her. “The Beaver Cleaver,” she informed her carelessly, turning to the front again. Pam laughed to herself. “That’s right. The Beaver Cleaver, because he liked hot young chicks.” “Am I taking you girls to Monica Piers or what?” the young man cried out loudly, without warrant. Both girls jumped at the volume. Sarah turned and looked at him wide eyed. “Yes, please.” His usually placid face was wracked with tension as he cut across several lanes of traffic for the exit. Both girls gripped wherever they could and held on for dear life. *** The young man was right, Monica Piers was nowhere near the dam. He drove the girls right up to campus proper and apologized profusely for his outburst. Despite his apology Sarah alighted from the car with barely a word, still put out over the way he treated them. Pam was more forgiving, explaining that Sarah wasn’t used to such irreverence from men. He smiled and shrugged. “I tend to have that effect on women,” he told her quietly. She offered up her wallet. “Can I give you some gas money?” “Fuck no. Save it, have some drinks for me tonight.” She nodded, smiling at him as he returned her gaze, both shyly contemplating the other. She felt reluctant to leave, but embarrassed by the prospect of keeping him. “Well, I guess this is it,” she said. “I guess so.” “I really enjoyed talking to you today.” “Same here. I’m glad I didn’t listen to your friend. Things might have turned out differently.” She stuck out her hand to the young man’s amusement. “It was very nice meeting you,” she said. He looked down at her little white hand curiously before taking it in his and bringing it to his lips. All the while he fixed his eyes on the girl. They were green, she noted silently. He beeped twice as he drove away. Pam stood there watching him, wondering where he was going, who he was, why his car was missing a license plate. She contemplated this strange fact for a moment, before sprinting up the steps to the dorm so she could meet up with Sarah.
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