Notes From the Backseat Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dannika was driving and I was hardly going to ride shotgun anymore with her behind the wheel—the view from up there was just too terrifying. The passenger seat isn’t nicknamed “the death seat” for nothing. I was just about to volunteer when Coop beat me to it.
    â€œI’ll ride in back,” he said, tossing his duffel bag in the trunk and scooting in next to the surfboard. “Sweet!” he said. “You brought your board.”
    â€œWhere’s yours?” Dannika asked.
    He hesitated. “You think there’s room?”
    â€œWell, Gwen did bring four suitcases.” She said it sort of jokingly, sort of not. It was like she was tattling but pretending not to tattle, which really ended up being more annoying than if she’d just tattled outright.
    I stared at her, unsmiling. “A hatbox is hardly a suitcase.”
    Coop laughed and slung his arm around me. “Gwen’s a good Girl Scout—always prepared.”
    Dannika flipped her hair over one shoulder. “Go get your board and suit—we’ll just shove it in somewhere. We haven’t surfed together in a million years! That’s half the reason I even agreed to come.”
    Coop, being amiable and, really, so in love with surfing I could see he was salivating at the very thought, did what he was told. In a few minutes, he returned with his board under one arm and his wet suit under the other.
    â€œI don’t know,” he said. “I grabbed my shortest board, but it’s going to make the backseat sort of cramped.”
    â€œGwen’s got short legs,” Dannika said, eyeing me.
    Considering that she had long, lithe, slender legs, it seemed like a pointedly bitchy comment. When I looked her in the eye, though, she winked, like getting Coop to bring his board was this really fun mutual goal of ours—a sisterly effort—and her making me feel like a midget was all part of our coy, girlie plot.
    â€œGwen?” Coop said. “You going to back me on this?” He nodded at his board. “It’ll be in the way, don’t you think?”
    I shrugged. “If you guys want to surf, bring it.” I’d be a sport. What was the big deal? I brought a trunk of shoes; he could bring his board if he wanted. “I don’t mind the back. That way you two can catch up.” There! I’d be generous. He’d think I was incredibly confident, not threatened in the least by the demonic blonde.
    â€œGreat!” Dannika’s eyes gleamed with victory. “Thanks so much, Gwen. We haven’t seen each other since…that night in Malibu?”
    I felt my throat seize up. It was like a giant hand just reached over and closed my esophagus.
    â€œUh-huh.” Coop looked at me. “Dannika’s mom lives there,” he said, sensing my discomfort. Maybe sensing my imminent death due to lack of oxygen would be more accurate.
    â€œThat was so long ago,” Dannika continued, oblivious to my silent horror.
    Why do the words night in Malibu sound so ominous when placed side by side in this context? Why couldn’t Coop have a horrible, pockmarked, male, alcoholic best friend who wears vomit-stained corduroys and refers to women only in anatomical terms? Why, why, why, why, why?
    Coop let me into the backseat and took special care in arranging the boards in order to provide me with the maximum amount of legroom. Not that I needed any, according to Dannika. Yeah, don’t mind the Oompa-Loompa in the back; she’s just along for the ride.
    Look, I know what you would say. Relax, Gwen. Breathe. You remember—in and out. There you go.
    But do you realize I’ve been in the backseat for hours now and no one is paying any attention to me? Sure, every twenty minutes or so Coop glances back with one of his vaguely apologetic, sickeningly adorable grins. Once he asked me, “What are you writing?” to which I replied, “Just catching up on