I rub small circles behind my neck, massaging out the knots from lying against the car seat's headrest. Every muscle in my body begs to be stretched from being cramped in the car for so long. Not to mention I'm going out of my mind with boredom. My phone is at ten percent battery, so movies are out. I already tried looking at the Silverenn scores, but felt nauseous and gave up.

Why couldn't Emi have a newer car, one with adjustable seats? At least then I could have fun changing the reclining angle.

"Emi, how much further is the town?"

My roommate's eyes don't stray from the highway. "Not far."

"What an informative answer."

Emi lets out an annoyed huff and shoves her phone toward me. The GPS estimates that we'll arrive in another twenty minutes. I sag against my seat, nestling Emi's phone back in the drink compartments.

"I can't stand these tight seats," I mumble.

"Well get used to it, cause we're stuck here for the next few days." Emi presses her foot on the accelerator, and we pass a car zooming in the other lane on the highway. The road ascends, turning into an overpass that curves to the right.

"What do you mean by 'days?'" I ask.

"In case you don't remember, we don't have a home."

The road straightens beyond the maze of over and under passes. Cars merge from the right, and our once clear lane quickly floods with other vehicles. I find myself scanning them for any sign of the mafia members we saw at the party. Unfortunately, the tinted windows obscure my view. After a few tries, I sit back in my seat, tamping down the unease roiling in my stomach.

"How about a hotel?"

Emi glances over her shoulder before changing lanes. "We don't have the treasure yet. I doubt we can afford one."

"No harm in trying." I pull out my phone, now at eight percent, and look up hotels in Cabbage Edge. Good thing I didn't drain the battery yet.

Most hotel options boast several dollar signs by their names. Finally, I find a cheaper motel buried in the middle. I think we can spring for a few nights in a real bed. We'll be leaving soon, and hopefully with more money than when we started.

I call the number and manage to book a reservation while my battery drains down to two percent. Emi gives me the side eye the entire time, and when I hang up, she pounces.

"How much are we paying?"

"Eighty-five per night."

Emi's jaw drops, head turning to me. The steering wheel veers toward a truck in the right lane.

"Emi, watch out!"

We swerve back to the middle of the lane, but I still clutch my chest from fright.

"Cerise, that's like two weeks of groceries!" Emi exclaims.

"And I'm not sleeping in a car. It'll give me a crick in my neck. Besides, if we're chased again by those criminals, we want to be well-rested."

"A car will make a quicker getaway."

"Remember what the police told us? Sleeping in a car is far more dangerous than sleeping in an actual building, like a hotel or home. Even if we manage to evade the mafia members, we'll be a bigger target for everyday criminals."

My argument wins. When we arrive in Cabbage Edge, Emi drives to the New Day Motel. We check in and walk up three flights of stairs to reach our room. It's still less than our apartment and gives me a chance to stretch my legs, so I'm not complaining.

The room is nice considering that it's on the cheaper end of the spectrum. There are two beds, a table by the door and a smaller one between the beds, and a couch by the windows. I climb onto the geometric comforter facing a TV on the bureau.

"This will be great," I say. "When we get bored of Silverenn, we can watch a show."

"Or we can practice. I just hope no guests complain about the noise." Emi places her violin case on the bed further from the entrance.

"It's not like you can practice in the car." Believe me, I tried in college, back when I was just as excited as Emi to practice. There isn't enough elbow space.

"True."

I flop backward on the bed. Emi rosins her bow, then places a practice mute on the bridge of her violin. She begins to tune, and the sound is like nails scraping my ears. Two hours in a car, followed by another three hours of the same Bach, Paganini, and Mozart program is more than I can take. For a fleeting moment, I debate putting on the TV. But no, the sound will still crowd the corners of the room, still bombard my mind. I need to get out, need to clear my head.

I need something new, stimulating.

Not Mozart.

"I should run to the store," I say. "We don't even have a toothbrush."

"The front desk may provide one," Emi says, propping her music upright against the TV.

My lips press in a line. She's probably right. I sit still on the edge of my bed for a few moments. Then I leap onto the green carpet, sliding into my flats while a grin splits my lips. Emi begins an F-sharp major scale.

"I'm going for a walk," I say over the noise.

"Oh?" Emi eyes me, her fingers still crawling up the fingerboard. "Will you be long?"

"Not at all." At least, I don't think I'll be long. "Mind if I borrow your car?"

Emi stops, turning to me. "Why do you need a car if you're going for a walk?"

"I'm going to drive to the place where I'm going to walk."

Emi shakes her head, continuing her scale. "Keys on the bed."

I stuff them inside my clutch, next to my phone, driver's license, and credit card. "Thanks."

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Is three hours a long time? I've shopped for fourteen hours straight before, so I'd say no. Part of that time was spent at the laundromat, too, cleaning my new outfits. But Emi might think differently about the situation.

I return around four-thirty to violin music singing through the door. No doubt Emi practiced the entire time I was away. Her back is to me when I enter, and she sways along with the sonata filling the room. I ease the door into place and stick the bag of clean clothes on the other side of my bed so they're hidden from view, along with my new sneakers. Come on, I'd destroy my feet running around the city in stiff, two-year-old flats.

Finally, I get to recline on my bed. I prop my feet up and plug the charger I just bought into the wall. After all, my charger is still plugged into my bedroom wall at home.

The music stops abruptly. Emi and I stare at each other for a while, though her eyes are squinted.

"Since when do you go on multi-hour walks?" she asks.

"I needed to clear my head."

A frown creases Emi's brow. She nestles her violin back in its case, then sinks onto the bed, rubbing her left wrist. Both hands tremble slightly as her eyes scan the room, finally landing on the shopping bags on the floor.

Panic creeps onto her face. "Cerise, you didn't."

"What didn't I do?"

"Cerise, tell me you didn't just go shopping."

"There were some essentials we needed."

Emi crosses to the bags, then gasps as she lifts the two boxes of sneakers. She yanks another bag open, lifting a pair of jeans.

"Careful, I just washed those," I say.

"You went to a laundromat?"

"Yes, Emi," I say, allowing a hint of exasperation in my voice. "We don't want to run around in chemically clothes."

"What do you mean by 'we?'"

"I found the cutest yellow jumpsuit for you," I say. "You don't want to be roaming the city in concert black."

"I refuse to wear it."

I lean over, grabbing the bag from her hands. I hold up the jumpsuit I found, the soft fabric slinking just above the floor.

"Just try it on."

She gazes down at it for a second. Slowly, she makes her way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. I smile to myself. No one can resist new clothes.

She emerges a moment later, trying to suppress a smile. Just as I expected, it looks fabulous on her, the sunny color perfect against her bronzed skin. Tiny pleats run across the bodice, and the pants flare outward just below the knee. Spaghetti straps run over her shoulders, ending in two bows.

"How much was it?" she asks.

"Consider it a gift."

"You can't give what you don't have. How much did you pay for it?"

"I'll only tell if you help me find the treasure."

Emi considers me, then the annoyance melts from her face. Turning toward the mirror, she smiles the slightest bit and says, "deal."