I stare at him as horror begins to fuck me up the ass . . . “I can’t . . .”
“You can,” he says.
My eyes meet Elliot, and he shrugs. “I don’t know?”
How the hell can you live in five things?
Five hours later
“What fucking bullshit is this?” I cry.
Elliot scratches his head, completely perplexed. “We shouldn’t have taken it out of the case.”
“Oh. Great idea, Einstein,” I bark. “Because finding this out in a crowded hostel would be so much fucking better.”
“I just don’t get it.” Elliot spins the directions around as he reads them. “It doesn’t say anything here about this. Is there a button or something you push?”
I search and search. “There is no button, and there is definitely no way this is happening.”
“Jameson went camping. He will know.” Elliot calls the boys while I struggle some more.
“Hey.” I hear Jameson’s voice.
“Hi there,” says Tristan.
“We’re in all sorts here,” Elliot replies as he sets his phone up so they can see us. “I think the guy in the store pranked us.”
“What’s happening?” Jameson asks.
“How is this”—I hold up the giant, huge-ass sleeping bag—“supposed to fit into this”—I hold up the tiny sleeping bag cover. I begin to try to stuff it in again.
Jameson laughs out loud.
“You idiot. You roll it up.”
“It’s impossible,” I cry. “It’s like an elephant trying to fuck a cockroach.” I struggle some more. “There is no way this is fitting into that.”
“Have you heard of lube?” Tristan laughs.
“Obviously not,” Jameson replies. “Have you seen the women he likes?”
“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood for your shit,” I yell in frustration. “This is a complete disaster. I’m supposed to be on a vacation. I don’t have a spare nine hours every day to fight with a disobedient sleeping bag.”
“Lay it out flat.”
“What?”
“Lay it out flat,” Jameson snaps.
I lay it out flat.
“Now fold it in half and then in half again, and then roll.”
“Roll?” Elliot frowns.
“Roll . . . you idiot.”
“Why didn’t that half-wit tell us this in the shop?” I grunt.
Elliot and I get on our hands and knees and try to follow the instructions. We huff and we puff and moan and use all our strength, and to the sounds of Jameson and Tristan laughing out loud in the background, after twenty minutes we finally get it in.
“Now, fuck off.” I pick up the sleeping bag in its cover and kick it up the hall as hard as I can. “You’re not coming with me after pulling that bullshit. I never want to see you again.”
“You have to take it,” Elliot snaps.
“No way. It’s a four-man job, and I’m not a magician. I’ll happily freeze.”
Four days later
The plane touches down on the runway, and I blow out a long hard breath.
This is it.
In a moment, I will leave my comfortable first-class seat to find an Uber and travel out into the unknown with no money.
I don’t know what to expect other than the knowledge that my accommodation costs eighteen euros a night, I have nowhere near enough clothes, and I hate my sleeping bag with a passion.
Forty minutes later I walk out to the taxi stand feeling very pleased with myself.
Collected my luggage without a hiccup, and all is good in the world.
“Hello,” I say to the driver.
“Hello.” He smiles.
“Can you take me here, please?” I show him the address on my phone.
“Sí.”
“Great.”
He pops the trunk, and I put my backpack in, and I hop into the back seat.
He gets in and starts the car. I smile happily out the window.
Everything is running so smoothly. This is a walk in the park.
He puts the pedal to the metal, and we go zero to one hundred miles per hour in five seconds flat. He pulls out in front of a car, and they get on the horn.
“Ah.” I grab hold of the seat in front of me. “What are you doing?”
He changes lanes, and the tires screech; my eyes widen in fear. “Slow down,” I bark.
He goes across five lanes of traffic at high speed. “Relax.” He laughs as he waves his arms around. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Nothing about your driving is okay!”
He speeds through a red light, and I scrunch my eyes shut as I grip the seat in front of me for grim death.
“Slow down,” I demand.
He goes over a bump in the road so fast that I bounce high and hit my head on the roof.
“Ahh,” I cry. I peer out the front window at the oncoming cars.
Get off the road. We’re all going to die!
He takes a corner so fast that it feels like the car is going to roll over, and I contemplate jumping from the car.
Finally, after the most terrifying twenty minutes of my life, he pulls to a stop.
“Here you go.”
I get out and slam the door. “Never pick me up again.”
“Okay.” He smiles.
Dickhead.
I take my backpack and walk up the stairs of the hostel. It’s big and looks like a cheap and nasty hotel.
I walk in through the front doors and hear chanting.
“Drink, drink, drink.”
I look through the double doors into what looks like an outdoor courtyard bar.
A large group of people are gathered around a giant beer bong.
A guy is lying on his back, just about drowning as everyone screams and laughs.
The smell of bad body odor roils my stomach, and my eyes widen in horror.
What fresh hell is this?
Chapter 3
HAYDEN
“This?” Mom holds up a bikini on a coat hanger.
I screw up my face. “Where’s the rest of it?”
She chuckles.
I’m shopping for my trip with my mom and my best friend, Monica.
“This one?” Monica holds up a yellow bikini. It has white spots on it.
“It was a teeny-weeny, eenie-meanie yellow polka-dot bikini,” Mom sings.
I roll my eyes as I keep walking around. “There is literally nothing here I like.”
“Because you hate shopping,” they both reply in unison.
“This one?” Monica holds up a G-string black bikini and a barely there top.
“No.” I gasp. “That bikini gives out the wrong message.”
“What . . . like . . . ‘Hi, I’m Hayden, and I have a hot body; I’m ready to have some fun’?”
Mom giggles. “True, we’re getting this.” She snatches it off Monica and throws it over her arm.
“Listen.” I keep walking around the store. “If you wear revealing clothes, you attract the wrong type of man.”
Mom and Monica roll their eyes at each other. “And what type is that?” Mom sighs.
“The player kind,” I reply. “I hate players.”
“That’s the fun kind.” Monica widens her eyes. “I say have fun while you can.” She rubs her pregnant stomach. “Trust me, Haze, you’re a longtime married.”