I guess I could call Courtney, I think, taking a step back toward the tables that are set up on the lawn of the yacht club. The wedding was yesterday, and the festivities are over. Most people have already left the brunch and gone home. I look for her boyfriend, Jordan, but I don’t see him either. “I could ask her, I guess, but I don’t know if she has any money either.” I stand up and scan the outdoor tables for my cousin. “Is there any way you can book a flight to North Carolina? And maybe get a ride to the airport?” But because it’s going to mean that I have to go home, and I really, really do not want to do that. And not just because they’re going to be pissed. I really, really do not want to call my parents. There’s a bee buzzing near my face, and I don’t even bother to swat it away. “It’ll suck, yeah, but what else are you going to do?” “You’re going to have to call your mom or something,” Brooklyn says. Leave it to her parents to wreck everything. Two, we rent a car and go to North Carolina. Then we were going to rent a car and drive to North Carolina, where we were going to spend the summer. She was going to fly down to Florida from Connecticut, and meet me here, in Siesta Key, at my uncle’s wedding. They’ll be pissed.”īrooklyn and I had this whole thing planned out. I can’t call and tell them I don’t have a way to get back to Connecticut. But her mom had read some article about Title Nine that had gotten her all riled up. It was pretty ridiculous, since Brooklyn is totally unathletic, and no girls were even trying out for the wrestling team. One time last year she came down to our school screaming about women’s equality on the wrestling team. My mom said she wouldn’t as long as I talked you out of it, but you never know what my mom’s going to do. I mean, what if my parents call your parents?” And honestly, Peyton, I kind of think you should just forget the whole thing. My parents found out, and they’re freaking out. “I’m so sorry, but there’s no way I can come now. “I’m sorry,” my best friend, Brooklyn, says on the other end of the line. The bushes are prickly, there are bees floating around, and the ground is kind of wet. I’m crouching behind some bushes outside the Siesta Key Yacht Club, which is not comfortable. “Are you sure there’s no way you can come?” I say into my phone. All we hear about these days is how we’re supposed to be strong women and not depend on anyone else and blah blah blah.

Right of way by lauren barnholdt