Chapter 3

Hey everyone! At the time of writing, you've chosen option 1- A bird pooped all over Audrey's hair and ruins it. So, enjoy this chapter and let me know which option at the end you think should happen next! Enjoy!

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"What? Tell me what?" I prompt Owen to continue, trying to keep my voice at a non-hysterical level.

He bites his lip as his eyes flicker to the top of my head. "Um... maybe look in the mirror?"

I'm almost too scared to move. If I look in the mirror, it'll confirm it, and that's the last thing I want to do right now. I want to live in blissful ignorance, where Owen and I are jamming out to Def Leppard, with the trees flying past us and the fresh air around us and the open road in front of us, and nothing has gone wrong.

But I can't stay in that ignorance forever, I'm going to have to face reality eventually, and since we're on a time limit, that moment is now.

With a shaking hand, I flip down the sun visor and slide the mirror open. There, at the top of my head, mixed in with the brown of my hair I spent hours at the salon this morning getting done, is a splat of white.

Owen's voice is hesitant, "That's bird poop—"

"I know it's bird poop, Owen!"

His mouth snaps shut, and he looks around the single-lane-each-way road that cuts through the Canadian wilderness, then up at the sky. Not a single car has passed us since we've been pulled over on the shoulder, and the sky is completely free of any offending birds.

"Wow, that's just your luck to get pooped on with the roof down, especially while I was going 80," Owen says. "I've never heard of that happening before."

I resist the urge to grind my teeth together. "Thanks, Owen, but you're not helping." I open his glove box and riffle through the mess. "Don't you have any tissues or napkins?"

"Napkins, right." He riffles around various compartments until he pulls out a wad of mismatched napkins with various logos on them. He must've collected them from ordering out, but they all look relatively clean, so I don't care. I grab them from him and start trying to get the disgusting goop out of my hair, but it looks like I'm just smudging it around. Desperate, I try harder and more vigorously, but it's just spreading out.

"Does this look better?" I turn to look at Owen, whose eyes bulge as he recoils.

That's not a good sign.

"Yeah," his voice is high before he clears it. "I mean, kinda. You might just have to wet your hair to get it all out."

I frown in the mirror, trying my hardest to keep calm. He's right. It's not going anywhere unless I wash it, but if I do, it's going to be a frizzy puffball, especially in this humidity. But it's my only option. Better to be a frizz ball in a booger green dress, than a girl with bird poop hair in a booger green dress.

With a reluctant sigh, I grab a water bottle and exit the car. Owen scrambles around the car to stand next to me. I uncap the lid and hand the bottle to him.

"I can't see so you're going to have to do it. Just let me—"

He dumps the entire bottle over my head. The water splashes down my face and onto my chest and shoulders, thoroughly soaking me.

My fists clench as I take calming breaths, but not shouting at Owen is getting harder by the second.

He's your ride. He's your ride. He's your ride.

"You were supposed to let me lean over so I didn't get SOAKED!" I snap at him, and his face turns red.

"I'm sorry I just... wanted to help..."

"You're not helping, Owen. Nothing you have done so far has helped!"

He bites his lip and says nothing, but now I feel bad, because even though he opened the roof, he didn't know a bird would poop on my head. What are the odds of that, anyway? Like 1 in 100? 200?

"Fine. Let's just get the rest out of my hair and go get the cake before we're even more behind schedule." I gesture to the other bottles in the backseat, and this time Owen waits for me to lean over before delicately pouring water over my head.

Eventually all the gunk is out of my hair, but it's completely ruined, and I look like I've taken a dunk in a swimming pool. I wring my hair and clothes out as best as I can and hop back in the car. I can stew on the drive, but right now we need to get going. Nothing else can go wrong, so we need to grab this cake and get to the venue where I can start problem solving.

Owen starts the car and refuses to look at me as he brings the roof back up and secures it in place with the levers, though I'm sure he can feel the holes I'm burning into his skull.

It's a little too late for the roof to do any good, but at least I won't get hit by bird poop again. Statistically, it's probably impossible, but if you factor in the terrible luck I'm having, I'm sure it'll drastically raise the odds against me.

Owen and I say nothing as he pulls onto the road and follows the GPS to the bakery. Once we get the cake, it's only 2 hours to Paradise Hills, and then I can put this whole road trip—and Owen— behind me.

I throw my hair into a braid to try to mitigate the frizzing, but by the time we pull into the bakery's parking lot an hour later, my hair is dry and frizzing more and more by the second.

Owen looks at me like he wants to say something as we enter the bakery, but then thinks better of it. He must know that just because I haven't completely lost it on him, doesn't mean I'm not upset.

Sofia's cake is an elegant, all white, three tier cake, with ornate white piping decorating the cake. There are also a few white roses and green leaves and vines draping down the side, the same beautiful green that my dress should've been.

They put it in a box for us, and since it's heavy, I force myself to trust Owen with carrying it out. He gets to the car and places it on the backseat without a problem, and even goes the extra step and seatbelts it in place, and I'm able to breathe a bit easier.

"So I know things have been going wrong," Owen starts as we get back on the road, "but things are looking up! The cake looks perfect and we're almost at Paradise Hills with time to spare. You'll even have time to fix your hair!"

I pat my frizzy hair, the top of which feels like it's grown since the leaving the air-conditioned bakery. I'm not sure anything can fix this mess at this point, but if we have time, I know I can wrangle it into something semi-decent. All we have to do is stay on course for the next two hours and have no more mishaps and everything will go perfectly—or, as perfectly as it can given the circumstances.

Owen must sense that I'm loosening up a bit, because he turns up the stereo, but keeps his hands away from the roof-lowering button.

"Hey," I say after a couple of songs, "that sign says that gas station is the last one we're passing for 50 kilometers. Do we need gas?"

Owen taps his gas gauge. "Nope. We're good on gas!"

Great. I settle into my seat and even manage to avoid the spring digging into my back, just as we pass the gas station the sign was advertising. There's even a Tim Hortons beside it.

Just under two hours and I can put this all behind me. Just under two hours and I can pretend none of this happened. Just under two hours and I can resume my maid of honour duties and help Sofia with all the last-minute details.

Thinking of my sister reminds me that I haven't heard from her in a while. I pull out my phone, and frown.

"I don't have any service." I say.

Owen purses his lips. "Well we are in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure service will get better once we get closer to civilization."

He's right. Will it be good service? I doubt it if Sofia's calls are any indication, but it's service, nonetheless.

The car jostles, causing my phone to slip from my hand. The car does it again, and again, and Owen pulls over to the side of the road before the car shuts off completely.

I blink at him as he taps the gas gauge in front of him.

"Owen..." I start, dreading the words I'm about to say. "Please don't tell me we're out of g—"

"We're out of gas."

"URGH!" I can't help it. I'm so frustrated.

I find my phone and fling open the door to the car. Owen jumps out just as fast.

"You told me we had gas! You said, and I quote, 'We're good on gas'!"

He rubs the back of his neck. "I thought we were. I forgot the gas gauge is off. I meant to get it fixed..."

"URGH! Everything in this car is 'off'! And now we're in the middle of nowhere with no other cars to ask for a ride, with no cell service, with. No. Gas." I've been trying to keep it together through all the things going wrong on this trip, but this one really pushed me over my limit. I asked him if we had gas! We could've prevented this!

All I want to do is stand here and freak out, but yelling isn't going to solve anything. I need to fix this and get back on the road. At this point, who knows if we'll even make it to Sofia's wedding, never mind early enough to fix my hair and dress.

After a few deep breaths, I'm able to think clearly enough. "Okay. That last gas station we passed was what? Three minutes ago? Five? We got pretty far since you were going 80. If we walk fast enough, we can get there in about forty minutes. Maybe thirty if we're lucky."

I grab my purse and slam the car door as if that's making it final, and start off in the direction we came. Owen quickly grabs his stuff from the car, and soon he's walking along side me, in the middle of nowhere Ontario, with nothing to keep us company but the forests and empty roads and blazing sun.

Owen doesn't dare say anything to me the entire walk, and that's probably the best decision he's made this entire trip.

Forty-five minutes later, the gas station comes into view, and I almost cry with relief. I'm a sweaty mess, my feet hurt, my hair's matted, I'm dying of thirst, and I still have no phone signal.

Owen goes to the gas station, and I go to Tims. The second my Salted Caramel Cold Brew is in my hands I practically down it in one go— it's so good, so refreshing. It's exactly what I needed to get me through what's been the worst day of my life.

It's also got to get me through the forty-five-minute walk back, because the Tim Hortons employee tells me there isn't any taxi service around here unless I want to wait an hour and a half. But I don't have an hour and a half, I've already wasted so much time. At this point I don't even know if I'll make it to stand beside Sofia as she exchanges her vows, never mind have time to shower.

I grab Owen's Original Cold Brew coffee and meet him outside, where he's holding a cannister of gas. "This will be enough to get us back here so I can fill up," he says, taking the Cold Brew and practically chugging half of it, just like I did.

We start the walk back in silence, and by the forty-minute mark my feet are killing me. They feel like weights I'm dragging behind me, although Owen looks like he's out for a stroll. He's sweaty, sure, but he's also carrying the cannister of gas and looks like he could skip the rest of the way to the car. It makes me hate him more.

I pull out my phone to check the time. Not good. We would've been close to Paradise Hills by now if we had originally stopped for gas. Wait— is that...?

I stop in my tracks. "Owen. I have a bar. Maybe I can get service!" There's a large boulder nearby, so I hop onto it and stretch my arm up in the air, trying to get better cell service.

"The car's right around the corner," Owen points. "I'll fill up and come get you."

I'm too busy to do anything but nod. If I can get service, I can warn Mom or Sofia about everything that's went wrong, and they'll know what to do. They'll be ready when I get there, and they won't be taken by surprise when they see me.

After five minutes of contorting on the rock, I've gotten up to two bars, but my messages still aren't going through. I'm about to scale a bigger boulder when Owen jogs into view. He's not holding the gas cannister anymore, but he also jogged, not drove here.

When he's in front of me, he rests his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Owen, what's wrong?"

When he looks up at me, he has that face. That same face he had when he told me he forgot my bag and a bird pooped in my hair.

I hop down from the boulder. "Owen, you're scaring me."

"Audrey..." he says, stepping back from me. "I ran back to warn you so you have time to process, and I hate to have to say this, but..."

WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN NEXT? Comment beside each option to vote, and add the story to your library to see what happens in next week's chapter, the grand finale! Voting ends August 17 at 12:01 am (EDT)! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

1. The cake melted

2. The car's gone