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Putt…Putt…Putt…Psh…

Brendon’s eyes grew wide as plates and he stared at the steering wheel, as though begging it to stop the car from slowing down and stopping, as it was now doing. “Shit…”

“Brendon,” Margot said, looking around the car as though the explanation for its malfunctioning would be written somewhere on one of the windows. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“No fucking shit, Margot.” Brendon began to hit the steering wheel, jiggled the emergency brake to check that it wasn’t on by accident, and, when all else failed, pounded his foot against the gas pedal. To no avail, however, because the car puttered to a stop, causing the two teens to cast worried looks at each other. “I’ll--uh--go and check that out…”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Margot snapped nervously.

For the past three hours, they had been traveling in a manner that alternated between long, awkward silences and Brendon continuing to grate on Margot’s nerves. Just before the car had broken down, Brendon had been, once again, tormenting Margot about Spencer.

“You know, Margot, come to think of it, I don’t think that you and Spencer would make a good couple; there’s no nickname. Spargot? Mencer? No. Just…no. Now, if you and Jon got together, that would be quite the nickname. Guess what it would be. Come on, Margot. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Gue--”

“Brendon! Shut up, please!” Margot was clenching and unclenching her fists in her lap, trying to block out the mass of red clouding her vision angrily.

“Hey, just answer the question, Mar-Bear, and I’ll leave you alone,” he promised.

Margot sighed resignedly. “Fine…Jargot?”

“Nope! Maron! Like ‘moron,’ but more clever because I just thought of it.” He laughed obnoxiously and nodded his head vigorously, as though to further convince Margot of the hilarity of this joke.

Margot just closed her eyes, shook her head slowly from side to side, and sighed heavily. Shortly after, the car began to give up on the trip.

By this time, it had begun to get very dark, indeed. Margot was hesitant to get out of the car, but wanted to see what Brendon was up to, and make fun of him if he had no idea what he was doing.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, joining him in front of the hood of the car. He had lifted it and was looking inside at all the mechanical workings. Margot didn’t know much about cars, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be smoking heavily, or smell like burning oil.

“What do you fucking think?” Brendon snarled, slamming the hood shut and walking away, kicking at the sand and cursing into the night.

“So…What do we do?” Margot began to worry. They were, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. This wasn’t even a listed town on the map of Nevada; it was just…desert.

“Well, let me just call AAA--Oh! Wait a minute! I can’t do that! Do you know why that might be, Margot?” Brendon hissed, getting his face very close to hers.

“If you expect me to apologize for doing something that you fucking pushed me to, you can kiss my ass, because I’m not gonna. It’s just as much your fault, if not more so.” Margot crossed her arms and turned away, walking back to the car and leaning against the passenger door.

“I don’t give a damn if you apologize or not, Margot, because we’re still up shit-creek without a fucking paddle, and I don’t know what to do.” Brendon ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of what to do.

“Well…” Margot said, pondering their situation. “I think we should just grab the map out of the car, grab some of our stuff, and keep going down the road until we find somewhere that has a phone.”


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Brendon looked at her sourly, narrowing his eyes. “Fine. But if we get attacked by a rapist, I’m sacrificing you.”

“They’d probably pick me over you, anyway, asshole.”

And so they began to walk. And walk. And walk. More than once, Brendon insisted on referring to the map, convinced they were going in the wrong direction.

“Brendon,” Margot exasperatedly sighed the fifth time he did this. “We’re in the desert. It all looks the same, but I assure you, we haven’t just made a U-turn and gone the opposite direction.”

Brendon ignored her, and they continued walking.

“My feet hurt.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m tired.”

“I need to shower.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Shut up and keep walking.”

And they did. If possible, the night was getting even darker, and, seeing as the two weren’t really talking to each other, Margot was left alone with her thoughts. She was scaring herself. What if they got abducted? Nobody would ever know. Or they could just drop right here in the desert. They wouldn’t be found for days, perhaps weeks. A month?

“Hey, what’s that?” Brendon suddenly said, pointing to a glimmer of light, perhaps half a mile down the road from where they were.

“Whatever it is, they have electricity, and I’m guessing that means they have a phone.” Margot said, relief completely washing over her body at the faint twinkling of hope that had emerged out of the despair.

The pair seemed to regain a vigor that they had lost about an hour into their journey on foot. They walked quickly, closing the gap between themselves and the light in record-time. What became apparent as they approached the source of the light was that it was produced by a house. Not a small house, but not very large, either. It was what one would expect to be in the middle of the Nevada desert.

“So…” Brendon said once they were at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. “Knock,” he commanded.

“What if they’re asleep?” Margot asked nervously, now not so sure that she wanted to knock on the door of complete strangers.

“Asleep with the lights on?” Brendon sneered, pretending to be much braver than he was feeling.

“You never know,” Margot told him, but began to climb the steps toward the front door. After examining it for a moment, she opted for knocking twice on the door and stepping back to stand beside Brendon. He may have been an asshole, but she knew he wouldn’t kill her…for now, at least.

After a few long, nerve-wracking moments (in which Margot was able to chew three of her fingernails down to the bone), the door opened to reveal a woman in her late fifties, early sixties, perhaps, and she looked around before her eyes landed on the pair of teenagers standing at the foot of the porch stairs.

“Yes? Can I help you?” She spoke in a very soft, grandmotherly-type voice.

“Yeah,” Brendon spoke up, gaining confidence from the fact that a huge, muscley meathead hadn’t answered the door. “Our--uh--our car broke down a while down the road. Can we use your phone? We just need to call a tow-truck to go get it, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, young man, but I don’t own a phone. However,” she added when both Brendon’s and Margot’s shoulders sagged simultaneously. “You’re both welcome to spend the night, and I’d be happy to drive you into town in the morning. There’s a mechanic and a hotel, and I’m sure one of those is bound to have a telephone.”

Brendon and Margot glanced briefly at each other before turning their attention back to the old woman.

“Well…” Margot began, wondering what she was supposed to say. “Well, that’s very generous of you, but…” But what? “But we wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” she said, beckoning them into her home and opening the door a bit wider. It certainly looked warm, Margot thought to herself. She was freezing; night time in the desert in the middle of winter was certainly not a warm affair.

“Well, thank you very much,” Brendon said sweetly. “It’s very kind of you.” He began to climb the steps, but Margot grabbed the back of his shirt and hissed into his ear so the woman wouldn’t hear.

“What if she’s a…a serial killer, or something?” she asked worriedly.

“Oh yeah, I can see how intimidating her rippling muscles are,” he replied, grabbing Margot’s arm and dragging her up the steps with him. They stepped into the cozy, little cabin and the woman shut the door behind them, smiling warmly.

“You both look a mess,” she remarked, guiding them into her small kitchen, indicating that they should both take a seat at the table. “How long were you walking for?”

“Probably about three or four hours,” Brendon told her, almost crying at how good it felt to be off his feet at last.

“Oh my!” the woman exclaimed, her weathered hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, you poor things! You must be starving, and thirsty, and oh, how tired you must be!” Margot almost chuckled at how matronly she was being. She began bustling about the kitchen, cracking eggs on a frying pan, setting bacon in another, and mixing pancake batter.

Margot was going to object, but she couldn’t deny that she was incredibly hungry, especially after her stomach let loose a window-rattling roar that made Brendon chuckle. “Thank you, very much,” Margot said emphatically as a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice was set in front of her.

“It’s no trouble, dear. Oh, it’s been ages since my children have visited me. You know,” she turned to Brendon. “You remind me of my youngest. You both have lovely eyes.”

Brendon blushed and Margot sniggered, hiding it in her glass as she drank.

“Well…Thank you,” he stammered, also taking a sip of juice. “My name is Brendon, by the way, and that’s my…friend, Margot.”

“It’s lovely to meet both of you. My name is Gail.”

“Thank you very much for inviting us into your home, Gail.” Margot said, smiling appreciatively.

“It’s no trouble, dear. I love having company. It makes me feel useful.” She laughed and got up to flip the pancakes. “I suppose you’ll want to shower?” She turned back around with a stack of pancakes on a large plate, which she placed between Margot and Brendon. They nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to say that I only have enough hot water left for one shower. Unless you care to take it together?”

Margot nearly choked on her bit of pancake, and Brendon spat his orange juice back into the glass. “No, no that’s fine,” Margot hastily said. “We can wait until tomorrow when we get a hotel room.”

“If you insist,” Gail said nonchalantly. “I’ll also warn you that I only have one spare bedroom that you’ll have to share. Although, being such good friends as to travel together, I’m sure you two won’t mind that, at least?”

Brendon and Margot exchanged looks, both quite disdainful, and then turned to Gail. “Of course not,” Margot jumped in with before Brendon could speak. “That’s very nice of you.”

After being fed to bursting by Gail, the pair of teens were led up the stairs to a small bedroom, complete with a large, ridiculously comfortable-looking bed and a big, fluffy comforter.

“My bedroom’s just down the hall,” Gail informed the two. “Just holler if you need anything. See you in the morning.” With that, she had closed the door behind her, leaving Brendon and Margot to quietly argue about which one would get the bed.

“I’m taking the bed, and you can sleep on the floor.” Margot told Brendon, climbing into the bed and snuggling into the covers.

“Well,” Brendon said, standing on the other side of the bed. “You are perfectly welcome to sleep in the bed, Margot. I will, however, be joining you. Hope you don’t mind a bit of nighttime kicking.” He climbed into the bed, not bothering to try to keep his distance from Margot, who flinched at his touch.

She mumbled incoherently about “not fair…” but didn’t pitch too much of a fit, because she just wanted to sleep. Very soon, both teens’ breathing had slowed down, lengthening and evening out to indicate that both had fallen into a deep sleep.