January 2, 2020

Jamie once got talking to a stranger in a gas station convenience store—a middle-aged Floridian woman who claimed that, if you were to throw your car's door open while racing down a highway, the resulting force and pressure would make the door come clean out of its hinges. Jamie is ninety-nine percent certain this is a myth, but she still wishes the theory had never been shared with her. She hasn't been able to sit in a car without fighting the urge to test it ever since.

Social media are a much healthier distraction on a boring car ride in the passenger's seat. That's why Jamie just sits there typing replies to friends' Instagram posts.

"Got any new year's resolutions?"

New distraction it is. Jamie looks up from her phone and at Travis, who is dividing his attention between her and the road. One moment his bright blue eyes are on her, the next they're on the near-empty highway again. Whenever Travis drives back to Morales after visiting his friends in Palmvale, he picks the route through Morales National Forest, the natural beauty of which he loves. Narrow, twisting canyon roads, steep inclines and hairpin bends don't scare him—not even in crisp two A.M. darkness.

Jamie told one of Travis' friends at the New Year's party they've just left that she hasn't done new year's resolutions in ages. What she didn't tell is that 2020 is the year in which she does actually have a resolution at the ready.

That resolution is break things off with Travis.

Seriously.

The relationship is more trouble than it's worth. Too many squabbles over nothing, and even when she and Travis are getting along fairly well, Jamie finds herself far too annoyed with him to be happy in his presence. Things she didn't really notice—or didn't want to notice—at the start irk her now. Travis never made a big deal out of her running a successful YouTube channel and the demands that come with the side hustle, but if she racks her brain, she can count the amount of interest he has ever shown in anything related to what she does on one hand. Yet, he has no trouble suggesting innovative ways to spend her money, or showing off her fame and achievements to his friends as if they were his own. Tonight has more than proved that once again.

Jamie didn't sign up to be anybody's Manic Pixie Trophy Girl. And that's just one part of a constellation of reasons to throw this relationship out with the rest of the trash.

She just needs to be patient, that's all. She understands now why people say you shouldn't ever date your coworkers. Her income from Witchcraft Wednesday finally seems to be becoming sustainable, and Jamie was so over waiting tables that she quietly handed in a resignation notice a little before last year ended. She'd like her last days at work to be free of drama, so breaking up with Travis when she's already gone will spare herself and many others a whole lot of unpleasant awkwardness.

"Double my channel's subscriber count before the new year is over." She makes this resolution up on the spot, though she thinks it's a pretty good one. Witchcraft Wednesday is already well on its way to becoming a little more than Fun Fact Famous, having amassed over a million subscribers.

(A million. That's so many people watching Jamie's videos. With that amount, Jamie could create her own army and overthrow the government of San Marino or something.

Not that Jamie would do that, as she'd feel terrible uprooting the lives of the Sammarinese like that. But still.)

"That doesn't count." Travis rolls his window down, a chilly wind entering and further messing up his already wild brown hair. "You'd be aiming for that irrespective of the new year starting. Nothing special about it."

Jamie is too tired and annoyed for this type of conversation at this hour. She'd rather just sit here blasting the radio at full volume, wondering if maybe an interesting animal will cross the road. But the road through these rugged mountains is pitch-black save for Travis's headlights and the signage reflecting it back, and Travis can't stand listening to music when he drives.

"I'll sleep on a better resolution," Jamie says, hoping to be done with it. "I'm sure I could have a good one ready after the weekend. Once I'm back from New Orleans."

"You're going to New Orleans?"

The sharp edge in Travis's voice teaches Jamie two things.

One: he didn't know about her New Orleans trip yet.

Two: he isn't happy about this.

Shit.

"Oh. Sorry. I..." Jamie frowns, intensely frustrated with her own incompetence. How did this slip her mind? "...I really thought I mentioned it to you before."

She doesn't do it on purpose, this disorganized forgetting, neglecting, messing things up. But she ought to get it under control. It hurts people, and that's the last thing Jamie wants to do. Travis may have been a pretty shitty boyfriend in hindsight, but Jamie's girlfriending hasn't earned gold star marks, either. A few weeks ago, she accidentally stood Travis up on a date they'd planned—she'd had a lot to do and had somehow lost sight of the date entirely in the maelstrom of goings-on.

Travis had been as furious as he had a right to be, and Jamie had spent a long time apologizing profusely, all while trying to put into words that no, that doesn't mean you're my lowest priority, my brain just hates my fucking guts half the time. Jamie has no trouble doing research on a video topic for six hours straight, but motivating herself to wash dishes for six minutes takes a full day and occasionally makes her want to burst into tears once the dishes pile up. She can reproduce every step of the witch trial procedure detailed in the Malleus Maleficarum from memory, but can't for the life of her remember what she had for dinner yesterday.

So clearly there's something malfunctioning, though Jamie doesn't know what or why, and when she tried to explain as much to Travis, he shut her down. He told her it all sounded like a bullshit excuse and she better try a whole lot harder next time.

(Which matches almost every reaction Jamie has ever had to faux-pas of this type, so she supposes there isn't anything new under the sun in that regard. And it's valid. Shit, Jamie is twenty years old and skyrocketing to Internet fame. She shouldn't be this fucking inept. It's ridiculous.)

Forgetting to bring up New Orleans doesn't warrant Travis potentially flying off the handle, but Jamie still messed up not telling him. Even though their relationship may be in its death throes as far as she's concerned, neglecting to mention it was rude and insensitive on her part.

"Of course you thought you did." The light of the tunnel they enter doesn't chase the shadows off of Travis's face. "I'll tell you what, you think too much. And you say too much, except for the shit that really matters. What are you up to in New Orleans?"

You think too much. You don't answer my messages fast enough, do you even care? That hair colour is tacky, you should've stuck with all natural. Jamie runs a hand through her hair, which she dyed partially pink a week ago. She likes the way it looks.

And she's going to handle this breakup over text.

"New Orleans is considered one of America's most haunted locations," she says. "So I want to shoot some videos there. I have a friend living in the city who can help me get around to all the interesting places. It's gonna be fun."

"Which friend?"

"Dave Sandberg. The dude who makes urbex videos. Ring a bell?"

"A guy?"

"A guy who's been with his girlfriend for four years now, and if she knows what a good time is, she'll join our New Orleans tour as well." Jamie frowns, growing irritated. "Remember how you can have friends of the opposite sex that you don't want to fuck? It's revolutionary."

"Don't sass me. What kind of stupid cuck do you take me for?" Travis grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. "Didn't even give a fuck about how this shit would make me feel... ice cold. Sure, go live it up in New Orleans with that dick. Definitely don't even bother asking your actual boyfriend what he thinks of it or if he'd like to come."

What planet is this man living on? No matter how hard Jamie tries, she can't recall what she ever saw in a relationship with him. Must've been a bout of temporary insanity. Or maybe being with Travis seemed better, just a little bit better, than that terrifying feeling of being half-abandoned, unloved, alone.

"I just told you I thought I'd mentioned it," Jamie hisses while her blood heats towards a boiling point. "But apparently I didn't, and I'm sorry, but you never even give me the slightest chance to explain myself. You always go and assume the worst, and right now it's damn insulting, Travis."

Fine, Jamie hasn't been the Best of Girlfriends in a lot of ways—she'll freely admit it. But cheating on a partner is plain cruel and Jamie can't stand people who think it's in any way okay. So she doesn't cheat. Only in board games every once in a while.

(And okay, maybe sometimes in card games, too.)

If Travis seriously thinks she'd get in bed with any guy despite being in a relationship, he doesn't know her very well at all. Jamie almost finds that more disrespectful than the insinuations themselves.

"And it isn't like it's going to be all fun and games. It's ultimately a work trip. Why should it have occurred to me to invite you on a work trip? Especially since you've never cared one bit about what or where I film before."

Travis bristles. "Doesn't sound like you'll be doing much work to me."

Jamie's parents feel that way about her channel and the time and effort going into maintaining it, too; this is the exact kind of thing they told her once. That's why Jamie hasn't spoken to them or even seen them in over a year. All that time and it still hurts.

Travis knows damn well that it still hurts.

(And maybe there's more that he knows, Jamie thinks as she fights off flares of anger—maybe that's why he's being so openly hostile, slashing haphazardly at old wounds like a madman with a knife. Maybe it hasn't escaped his notice that Jamie's planning to kick his ass to the curb sooner rather than later.

Maybe this is all about regaining his sense of control.)

Patience. Resignation notice. Jamie may be frothing at the mouth internally, but she shouldn't let her anger take over now. She should let this slide, brush it off, because getting pissed isn't worth it, because she should be above this sort of thing, because exploding into a rage is just what Dad would do and the thought of being like Dad will only piss her off even more. Keep calm don't engage count to one two three twenty thirty-seven fifty-five–

"In fact, it doesn't entail much more than looking pretty online." Travis wrinkles his nose in disdain. "You think people care about your content? I guarantee you the entire male segment of your viewers only watches your shit because you're hot. And you've never seen me kick up a fuss about that, right? About my girlfriend being a goddamn Internet whore in her spare time?

"Shut the fuck up, Ka– Travis," Jamie snaps. "You're a pathetic, miserable asshole, and the day you get out of my sight forever is going to be the happiest day of my life. You're only putting me down because you know you'll never achieve anything and because you feel bad nobody could ever fucking love a worthless piece of shit like you."

Travis slams his brakes so hard Jamie is eternally grateful seatbelts exist. She's breathing hard, ears ringing, thoughts racing—did I really just say that, how could I say that?—and a surge of panic sets in. "Hey. Hey. Travis, fucking drive or you'll get us both killed!"

There weren't any other drivers behind them last time Jamie checked, but if any show up and fail to notice their stationary car in the middle of the road while driving fifty-five miles per hour, a serious accident is inevitable.

Travis doesn't drive.

"Get out."

Jamie releases a nervous laugh. "What? No."

"I said get. Out." Travis growls. "Bitch."

In normal circumstances, Jamie doesn't obey commands she disagrees with on a fundamental level. But sometimes disobedience can get a girl killed, and she still likes life enough to want to experience more of it. "Okay, okay," she says, hastening to unbuckle her seatbelt and escape the vehicle. When she's standing outside, the night air cold on her face, she produces a tentative "What do you want now?"

"Now you close the door," Travis says, voice dripping with venom, "and you figure out if that big mouth of yours can somehow get you home."

Jamie closes the door, backing away. She watches Travis speed off the moment she does so, his headlights fading away into the night until she's all alone in the darkness, by the side of the road with only her phone to keep her company. And this is fine, this is fine, it's not the end of the world—she's alive and she's physically okay and there are dozens of horrendous ways in which this could've gone much worse. But Jamie still takes a moment to hurl every insult coming to mind at Stupid Travis in his Stupid Car, because she's still full of rage and she can't get over how utterly fucking humiliating this is.

The rage does subside fast. It always leaves her system almost as soon as it enters, and then, thinking rationally again, she can put everything in its proper perspective. Why the fuck did she have to say all that, stoop to Travis's scummy level? Maybe he had it coming, but those words were still callous and cruel and wielded with intent to kill, and Jamie can't take the slightest bit of pleasure in having said something so mean. This isn't the type of person she'd like to be.

Fuck. It's not.

But that's a problem for later. She can't stay here forever.

Travis didn't take her phone. Jamie is free to call whoever. She ponders her options. She could get a taxi or an Uber, but getting in some stranger's car here and now seems the least appealing option. She could call any one of numerous friends in the area, but they're going to want an explanation, and Jamie doesn't need this shit going around her social circle—especially since it might end up on the Internet somehow, reaching far too many strangers who have no business knowing and damaging her career right as it's truly taking off.

And she'd rather jump off a cliff than contact her parents. So that leaves only one person to contact.

Jamie might not know exactly where they stand after she moved out following the Rent Money Issue, but that aside, Stella has always been dependable when it mattered. When Mom and Dad didn't allow Jamie to start a YouTube channel, Stella convinced them there was no harm in letting her try. When Mom and Dad kicked Jamie out of the house, Stella left work to drive two hours from Morales and back again to come pick her up.

They may not be on the same page all the time, but despite their flaws and differences, Stella has always believed in her. Even when Jamie struggled to do so herself.

That's still worth something. It has to be.

Jamie makes the call.

"Heyyy, Stel," she says when her sister finally picks up the phone. "I know it's way past midnight and everything, but... if I send you my location, do you think you could come pick me up?"

The year is off to a great start.