She shrugged, not understanding. “I’m not saying he’s a bad lyricist. I’m saying it’s horrible music.”

My mouth fell open, not sure what to say to counter that bit of craziness. “Johnny Cash loved his songs enough to record some of them himself.”

“No,” Molly argued, waving a finger through the air. “The late, great, Johnny Cash recognized good lyrics. Then he recorded them himself to make them amazing songs.”

“Wow. You know he doesn’t just write the lyrics, right? He writes every note. For every instrument.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t.”

“I…” I stumbled over my words, not sure what I was trying to say. “You know what? Let’s just listen to music for a while.”

“Fine. But I get to pick.”

“No you don’t,” I argued. “I’m driving.”

“Exactly. Passenger gets to choose.”

“No. Driver’s choice. That way I’m not driving to whatever shit you pick that might put me to sleep.”

“I have never heard that rule before. Ever.”

“Fine, then why don’t you take a nap?”

“I’m not taking a damn nap!” she snapped at me. “You are the most infuriating person on the planet, you know that, right?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t even begin to compare to you.”

She growled, making me smile. “Fine. Whatever! Can you please put on something we’d both enjoy?”

“Jesus, you’ve been spending way too much time with Lee. You’re starting to sound like her.”

Molly laughed. “I’m taking that as a compliment, especially coming from you.”

I tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you comparing me to Red is not as insulting as you think it is.” She grabbed a package of Twinkies and tore it open, shoving half of one in her mouth before continuing. “How long have you known her?”

“Lee?” I reached across the console, snagging the other gooey yellow treat from her, happy to see she was eating without counting calories. “My whole life.”

“Wow. You guys must have some serious dirt on each other.”

I chuckled. “We do. I’m sure she has pictures I don’t want seen. Hell, I have pictures I don’t want seen.”

Pulling her legs onto the seat Indian style, she leaned back. “Tell me some stories.”

I shrugged. We had eight and a half more hours stuck in the car together, and obviously would never agree on music. As the miles of I-90 bled together, I told her stories, some I hadn’t thought about in years. We spent the next hour laughing about the crazy things that Lee and I had done as kids.

“When we were in second grade, my parents bought a new house on the other side of town. Lee and I were devastated because it was so much further away from hers. But every Friday night, Lee would take the bus with me and spend the night at my house. A few weeks in, we were sick of my new room, tired of my new house, and decided to swipe some of my dad’s tools and make a fort in the forest behind my house. It took us weeks, but we finally had this awesome little cabin.”

I laughed, remembering the ramshackle shack we were so proud of. “One afternoon, a week or so after we’d finished it, we decided we were going to spend the weekend in the cabin. Lee carried out our sleeping bags and all the shit she thought we needed to be comfortable while I ran to get food.

“I’d made it almost all the way to the cabin when I heard her yelling. She was lecturing me, telling me that I wasn’t scaring her. I had no clue what she was rambling on about. When I walked inside, she punched me. Accused me of sneaking around the cabin, trying to scare her, scratching the walls and shit. I swore I hadn’t and promised that I wouldn’t do that to her. She didn’t believe me.” I could still see her face, scrunched up and bright red from anger. “I had just dropped the food when the attack came.”

“Attack?”

I nodded, knowing she could see me in the dashboard lights. “Attack.”

“You were attacked?” She sounded horrified. “By who?”

“Arthur and Rocket. Psycho demon raccoons.”

“Raccoons?” Her concern had been replaced by doubt. “As in the cute and cuddly furry little animals?”

“Yeah, raccoons. But they’re not all cute and cuddly, Mols. Arthur and Rocket had giant fucking fangs”—I moved my index and middle finger up to my bottom lip—“and claws longer and sharper than a goddamned wolverine”—I held my curved index finger in her direction—“and glowing red eyes.”

“Glowing eyes?” The disbelief in her voice was loud and clear.

“Swear to Christ.” I glanced at her quickly, but couldn’t get a good look in the dark.

“Okay.” She snorted, obviously not believing a word. “So, what happened?”

“At first, I just stood there, scared out of my mind. They had barged in so quickly, and were walking around in circles, growling. I remember stepping in front of Lee, and she grabbed my hand. Then Arthur stood up on his back legs and growled”—I lowered my voice, doing my best demon impression—“‘Get out!’”

“He spoke? The raccoon with glowing red eyes spoke to you?”

“He did.”

“What did you do?”

“We did what anyone would do when a demon psycho raccoon told them to leave. We got the fuck out.” I smiled, remembering Lee. “Well, Lee grabbed the pillows and shoved them at me, and picked up the sleeping bags before turning and running out the door. I followed, trying not to piss my pants, terrified that they were following us. I fell down a coupla times; my mom was pissed when she saw how dirty the pillowcases were.”

A hand smacked my arm hard. “You liar! I totally believed you at first.”

I held up my right hand in surrender. “Honest to God, it really happened.”

“Mmhmm.” She wasn’t convinced. “And the point of the story was?”

I chuckled. “You wanted dirt on Lee. She’s fucking terrified of raccoons. Probably the only thing in the world she’s afraid of.”

“So, why Arthur and Rocket?”

“What else would you name two red-eyed terrors that can talk? Seemed sensible to us at the time.” Molly started to giggle then, shaking her head. I smiled at the windshield. “Lee and I vowed that we would never tell anyone. She started to research the vermin, in case they were scouts sent by their leader and were coming to take over the world, Planet of the Apes style.” I shook my head. “I’ve never told anyone else about that night. But you watch her. If she ever meets anyone named Arthur or Rocket, she’ll tense and eye them suspiciously, as if she’s trying to see a resemblance.”

Molly was still laughing a few minutes later when I realized I didn’t know anything about her childhood. “What about you? Do you still talk to any of your old friends?”

Molly sobered instantly, sitting up in her seat. “Not really.”

“That sucks.” I twisted the top off my bottle and took a sip of Coke. “Sometimes it’s nice to have that history.” Then I thought about Jules. “Sometimes it’s better to start with a clean slate and leave history in the past.”

Molly nodded beside me. “You have no idea.” She stared out the window for a few minutes. I was about to reach for the radio when she turned back to me. “I actually grew up in New York.”

“Really? I never would have guessed that by your accent. I thought you were a country bumpkin.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well you don’t sound like a backwoods hick, so I never would have known you’re from Maine.”

“Listen he-ah, bub. I’ve tried wicked hahd to get rid of the accent. It’s a wicked pissah, guy.”

She giggled. “You are such a geek.” She took a sip of her soda. “Was it hard to get rid of?”

I shrugged. “Not really, but it wasn’t that bad to begin with. I still slip into it when I’m home. What about you?”

“When you want to change something badly enough, you find a way.” Before I could question her cryptic answer, she adjusted her legs in the seat again and asked, “So, why Julie? I mean, I love Nate and Lia together, and can’t imagine them apart, but I’ve met Julie and can’t picture you two together. So how in the hell did you end up with her and not Lia?”