C H A P T E R 24: You're So Much Prettier When Your Mouth is Shut

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 When they say that the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, Scout didn't think they meant it literally.

Since Skylar turned the radio on as he sped as fast as possible out of Santa Fe and away from a possible assault charge, not a single word had been exchanged between them. He stopped once at a gas station to fuel up, and then he  drove as stiff and quiet as a corpse, while the Chevelle roared like she was going on fire. Scout, on the other hand, spent the first hour of the drive crying into her hands, and then the proceeding four hours sleeping off the exhaust that always set in after a big cry.

Scout was disappointed in herself, more than anything. Disappointed that she always managed to put herself in disagreeable situations. Disappointed that she always let every emotion she ever had get the best of her. And disappointed that she let Skylar down. The latter was the real kicker, though. She had never seen Skylar so mad. She knew she'd really done it this time, but a part of her was too proud to say anything, so she cried it out and fell asleep.

Skylar was still mad as hell. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that he heard a few stitches in the leather pop under the pressure of his hands. He was thinking that if this is how the remainder of this excursion was going to go, then he might as well turn around and take her right back home. She was the most infuriating thing he had encountered in a very long time.

Then, just as quickly and fixed as he was angry, he was sad. He could never tell her, or anyone for that matter, but in those moments of Scout peeking out of the bathroom door of Malcolm's hotel room, and seeing the look of fear on her face, she reminded him of the redhead. All of the guilt and disgust came back, crashing in like waves determined enough to take out whole cities. He never knew feelings like that could hurt so much.

Skylar was staring forward at the road continuously unfolding ahead of them, but images of the redhead's face and Scout's began overlapping each other above the road. He shook his head and the images dissipated after a moment. God, he'd give anything to take that night, and many other ones, back.

He almost apologized. It was an apology to both of the overlapping faces. Although he didn't know the girl from the bar, he knew that no one deserved that. Especially Scout. No matter how pissed he was at her, he hoped she would always be safe and sound. So, his jaw fell open and the words "I'm sorry" lolled up from the back of throat. They bounced off of his teeth, and he almost spit them out, but he clamped his jaw shut. Scout had fallen asleep at that point, her head resting against the window that her breath was fogging up. He didn't want to wake her and have to explain to her why he was apologizing, so he didn't. Instead, he dropped his head back against the headrest. His eyes were still focused on the road ahead, right hand on the top of the steering wheel and the left hanging out the window in the brisk air.

It was only then that Skylar felt the pain that nestled in his abdomen. His ribs were pounding hard against the back of his skin like they could rip through at any given moment. All the adrenaline from turning Malcolm's car into a battered tin can had finally worn off, and Skylar was paying for it. He grit his teeth and tried to breathe through it with his focus on other things.

He hadn't been keeping track of the time, but he figured they were about five hours into the drive. He only knew because the Chevelle had just blown passed a billboard that advertised some swanky casino in Denver, Colorado, twenty miles ahead of them. He figured he must have missed the sign for Colorado. He hadn't even realized they crossed state lines yet.

Skylar looked over at Scout. She was still sleeping soundlessly. Anyone would've thought she was a dead body in passing if it hadn't been for her breath on the glass. Skylar thought she was much prettier, the face he had pictured on bare billboards a hundred times over since he met her, when she wasn't talking up a storm. Literally. He'd watched her conjure up a tornado with a single word before. It was an argument between Scout and Mandy, so it was bound to happen anyhow, but Scout did unapologetically play hopscotch on peoples' last nerves.

He didn't want to wake her up, but a diner was coming up like the early morning sun on their side. He steered the car off of the expressway into a little town just outside of Denver. Then, into the lot of The Hubcap Diner, which was moderately busy despite the hole-in-the-wall feel of it. Skylar parked at the far end of the diner's lot.

He turned to Scout and called her name.

She didn't budge.

He tried again.

Nothing.

He reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear that had been obstructing part of her face. The sunlight hit her just right, and suddenly she was a peppering of freckles and golden eyelashes and all the warmest colors. He almost wanted to leave her right there for as long as possible so he could enjoy what she looked like so calm and uninterrupted.

However, he also needed to eat as signified by the groan of his stomach beneath the pain in his ribcage. He gently squeezed her shoulder. She popped up like a jack rabbit. He quickly moved his hand away.

"What?" she muttered, groggily.

"Figured we should eat."

"Oh."

She wiped under either eye and reached for the door.

Skylar climbed out of the car as well.

Scout stretched so tall that Skylar was sure she grew five inches. She yawned as she did, and he suddenly missed how her lips pressed together softly in her sleep.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking at the anthill silhouettes of a mountain range behind the dinner.

"Colorado," Skylar said. He began walking slowly toward the dinner.

It was much cooler in Colorado than it had been in prior states. Arizona's average temperature for that time of the year had been over ninety. New Mexico's average fell somewhere around eighty. The outskirts of Denver, Colorado were a nice seventy. Skylar enjoyed it too much to walk any quicker.

Scout wasn't sure what state she would've picked next, but she had no problem with Colorado. She was already taken aback by the view of the mountains beyond the cities. So much so that Skylar was already waiting for her inside the diner before she tuned back in to life.

Skylar had slid into a booth right by the front door. She slid in across from him, taking in the rusted decor of old license plates from different states nailed to the walls, red and green lamps dimly lighting the place from the ceiling, and the hubcaps in the middle of each table lined with shelled peanuts. Skylar had already cracked a few peanut shells open and tossed their guts in his mouth.

"I ordered you a Coke," he said quietly. His words were almost lost beneath the Bon Jovi song echoing across the dinner.

Scout nodded, skimming over the menu on the table. She wasn't very hungry at all. She thought that she probably could eat, but then she flashed back to Malcolm's hand on her thigh and how strongly the motel's bathroom smelled of bleach, and the thought quickly dissipated. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

The young girl serving their table, who looked no older than a high school freshman, came back with two cokes and a smile. She asked them if they were ready to order. Much to Scout's shock that they served dinner food so early in the morning, Skylar ordered some burger that had "as greasy as motor oil" in the description and came with "an oil pan full of fries." They sure were taking their restaurant name seriously, she thought, but the descriptions in the menu were making her sicker than she had already felt.

"Just a side of toast," Scout said, pushing the menu away.

"You sure?" the waitress asked. "We have a really great breakfast special: Hubcaps and WD-40. It's our version of biscuits and gravy."

Scout shuttered, and pushed the menu even further away. "I'm sure."

The waitress shrugged, collected the menus, and flitted away.

Scout took a slow sip of her Coke. She stared into the tall, translucent blue cup and watched the dark liquid fizz around the ice cubes. Just above the rim of her glass, she could see Skylar peering at her curiously from the other side of the booth. She kept her eyes trained on the ice cubes. She didn't think she had enough gumption to face him and what she perceived to be his disappointment.

After a short while, he finally looked away and sighed.

There was that thick tension again, Scout noted. She hated it. She hated it about as much as she hated guilt trips and miniature silverware.

It was silent and tense all the way until the waitress came back with a giant burger with a knife through it to hold it together and a platter of fries, literally in an oil pan. All of it glistened with about as much grease to clog an artery. Then she set down the small plate of two buttered pieces of wheat toast that paled in comparison to Skylar's order.

Skylar dug into his food while Scout picked at the crust of her toast. It was only after half a pound of fries and most of the burger that he got tired of watching her poke her toast.

"Not hungry?" he asked, looking up from the table.

She shrugged.

He rolled his eyes.

"What was that for?" she asked, brows furrowing.

"You on some kind of hunger strike or something?"

She looked on at him in confusion.

Skylar was getting agitated. He had already been through enough with Scout. He didn't need her starving herself now too. He didn't understand why she insisted on being so goddamn difficult.

"You make me chase after you through New Mexico, and now you won't eat?" he said. "What's next? You gonna get strung out? Torch the car? Get yourself sex-trafficked? At least give me a heads-up this time."

Scout's chest puffed up. She was trying hard not to let her anger spill over the edges of her eyes. She had already been through enough in the last few hours. She didn't need him attacking her out of nowhere. She didn't understand why he couldn't just leave her be for awhile.

"Fuck you," she said.

She shoved the toast away from her. It slid across the table with more power than she intended, soaring over the edge and onto Skylar's lap. She didn't mean it, she really didn't, but she was too pissed to care all that much. It was just toast, she thought. No big deal.

"What the fuck?" Skylar hissed.

He hastily knocked the toast out of his lap and onto the floor. All he could think about was where the hell she got the nerve.

Scout almost apologized. That was the second almost-apology shared between them and they both would've found it ironic if they hadn't been so stubborn. She crossed her arms and stared defiantly across the table at him instead.

"You know what, Scout?" he began, fists clenched in his lap. "I'm done with your shit. Do what you want. Don't expect me to run to your aid the next time you get yourself into some shit."

Skylar stood abruptly, dropping a twenty and a five on the table. Before Scout could get a word in edgewise, he was already headed for the door.

The door slammed shut behind him. Scout was left in the booth by herself, arms crossed and a blank stare on her face. Sitting there, unmoving, was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears. Things were only getting worse for her from the moment she left Santan Valley and all she wanted then was to find a way back home.