Twenty-Eight

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Josh's POV 

It only took me about twenty minutes to realise that this was the dumbest idea I'd ever agreed to. Hiding in my dad's car for fifteen hours-or even more, who knew?-just so I could make it into the United States-that is, if I got past the customs without being seen and sent to jail with the illegal immigrants-and then what? How would I get from California, or wherever my dad was going for his business trip, to where Hayley lived without a) starving, b) getting lost, c) getting lost AND starving, d) being killed by mom who, after realising I had vanished, would travel the entire world to find me and murder me slowly with her own hands?  

In the end, I decided that the best thing to do was to emerge from my cold and wet hiding place-you know, the space between the backseat and front seats of a car, where people usually put their stinky feet-and reveal my presence to dad at a safe moment. And by "a safe moment" I mean "while he isn't driving" because dying in a car accident wasn't really on my bucket list. 

So I waited, feeling a little more ridiculous each second. I almost fell asleep-something I had been unable to do the previous night due to my overexcitement-when all of a sudden the immobility of the car struck me. Sometime during my state of almost-sleep, we had stopped. 

I sat up carefully, hiding behind the passenger seat to peak at my dad. Just as I expected, he wasn't there. Good. I checked the surroundings through the window to make sure he wouldn't spot me and stepped out of the car. We were in a gas station-no surprise there. Knowing him, I supposed dad was probably in the bathroom.  

If I got back in the car and smiled brightly at him when he returned, would he have a heart attack? Maybe it was better if I waited for him right there, on my two feet-just reducing the creepiness to its minimum.  

While I patiently stood there, I glanced at the licence plates of the passing cars thoughtfully. I don't know why, but that was always entertaining. For instance, did the dude pay a bonus for his three numbers to be 007 or it's just a coincidence? And that motto, "Beautiful British Columbia." I mean is that conceited or what? And cheesy too.  

Wait a minute, we were still in Canada? Jeez, was my dad taking a detour through the North Pole? At this rate it would take forty years to reach Hayley. Maybe we weren't even that far from home yet... 

Uh oh. What if we actually weren't that far from home and dad would decide to bring me back? That was NOT part of the plan. I was supposed to come out when we were already too far to turn ba- 

"What the f... udge!?" Damn, there he was, dressed like a hobo as always-guess it was genetic. "Josh, what the h... What are you doing here!?" I had to appreciate the fact that he tried so hard not to swear around me. "Uhh, hellooo?" He waved his hand in front of my face and I blinked in surprise, trying my best to focus. 

"Hey, dad." That is not what I call focus. "Ok, look, I was hiding in the car because I have to get into the United States in order to see Hayley-my girlfriend-but I was afraid you would refuse if I simply asked you..."  

"Damn right, I would refuse!" he nearly yelled back before opening the passenger door and shoving me onto the seat. I have to admit, I had never seen my dad so angry before. "I'm taking you back home right now. And don't you EVER pull a stunt like that again or I swear I am dumping you on the side of the road!" His glare made me wanna melt and evaporate through the AC. I didn't really have the guts-or the breath-to say anything anymore so I stared out the windshield in shock, feeling the disappointment slowly creep in as I understood what was happening to me.  

We were going back. 

Hayley's POV 

I knew this number. It was Jack. But why would Jack be calling me? What else would he have to tell me? Expecting with apprehension his frail, pained voice, I picked up my phone. 

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