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The Longest Hours
I sneaked out of the sleeping bag the moment Brandon left his seat.
“Gina!” I called, crawling on all fours out of the tent.
“What is it, Fran?”
“Gina, I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay to come tomorrow night,” I said, wiping my tears away just to make room for more to rain down my face.
“It’s okay, Fran. Don’t worry about us.”
“Kujo protect,” he said, coming to stick to my side.
“You guys sure?”
“Yes. Go do what you have to do.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, and got back into the tent to grab my phone.
The first morning flight from Philadelphia International to LAX was scheduled to live after six AM. Shit. It was hardly past midnight. Whatever. Better late than never. I bought a ticket online, already doing the math. I could check in about five thirty, so I had to leave Pennhurst
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