Since I'm the only family member going and I don't have a car, I'm forced to take the bus all the way into BFE where my grandparents live. The three and a half hour drive is a nightmare without my cell phone or laptop. Mom had given me a lousy book to pass the time. Island of the Blue Dolphins…said it was her favorite book as a girl. I refuse to read it out of spite.

The bus makes a few stops and is nearly always empty, disappointing me each time by having no interesting riders. The seats smell like pee and poor people. My dreams of sitting next to a group of hot college guys definitely won't come true. I don't talk to anyone. I don't do anything but stare out of the window. It's a boring view from start to finish.

I arrive exactly on schedule and it's amazing how the bus companies do that. Grandpa waits in the parking lot of a small convenience store that doubles as a bus stop. He's driven the same black Ford F-150 truck since before I was born. It still looks brand new when I crawl inside.

“Hi, Grandpa,” I say, shoving my heavy suitcase into the backseat. He nods and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Bayleigh, nice trip?” My grandfather is not a man of many words.

I nod. His lips press together in acknowledgement. The wrinkles in his face have gotten deeper and the hair that doesn't fit under his cowboy hat is grayer than I remember. We say nothing for next fifteen minutes but it's not uncomfortable silence. Grandpa doesn't speak to anyone.

We pass so many farms and ranches with massive wrought iron monogrammed gates that I start to wonder if it's mandatory to grow some kind of crop or raise livestock to live in this town. The house next to Grandpa's has a new lake in front it. An awkwardly shaped, rectangular ellipse hole in the ground that I'm only assuming is a lake. I can't see any water in it from the road. That definitely wasn't there last time I visited and neither were the dozen lumps of dirt that now separate the neighbor's house from my grandparent's.

“What kind of farm is that?” I get out of the truck and Grandpa grabs my suitcase and hauls it up the porch stairs. I follow him.

“That ain't a farm. It's a kid ruining the damn land.”

I don't understand, but don't ask any more questions.

Gram knits a blanket and watches soap operas. “Who is this?” she asks, smiling when I walk in the living room. I don't know if she's joking or being serious. Gram is sweet but a little batty. Sometimes calls me by my mother's name, sometimes forgets my name altogether. She sometimes tells me the same story multiple times.

“It's Bayleigh,” I say, hugging her carefully to avoid becoming a Cyclopes with one of her knitting needles.

“It's so good of you to come visit me. Old ladies never get any attention.”

I suspected this. Mom didn't tell her this was my punishment, but made it seem like I wanted to come see her. Right, because no internet and no cell phone is exactly how I want to spend my entire summer.

At least the food is good. We eat dinner at exactly six. Play cards for an hour after that. Watch the eight o'clock news and then go our separate ways for bed. Only it's eight-thirty and I'm not sleepy. The crickets and the howling wolves outside aren't sleepy either. I don't hear a single car honk or loud bumping music like I would hear at home.

I keep reaching for my cell phone but it isn't there. I keep thinking of things to post as a Facebook status but there is no Facebook here. I'm only a few hours into this summer and it already feels like I've been dumped on an isolated island and left to starve to death.

I'm staying in Mom's old bedroom. It still has the same canopy twin bed and writing desk she had as a child. Her stuff is all over the place. I used to think it was fascinating, but now I hate it. All of the memories and heirlooms of my mom's just remind me of her and how rude she was to send me here. This isn't a mere punishment – this is hell.

The only cool thing about this room is that it's upstairs and has a balcony with a view of, well acres and acres of nothing, but still – it's cool. I hang out here for a long time, dragging a beanbag out so I don't have to sit on the wooden balcony. I stargaze for an eternity that is actually only five minutes. I count as many stars as I can see, and get bored after thirty-six. Then I try closing my eyes and daydreaming about Ian. Wish I could pull out my cell phone and text a status update to my Facebook. It'd say:

Bored as all hell. So bored in fact, I may just drop dead.

A voice catches me off-guard. “You should learn to take a hint.” It's a male voice, coming from the neighbor's backyard.

I freeze in the beanbag chair, not wanting to move and give myself away. A shadow comes into view just to my right. I turn my head and squint in the dark to see him. He's a younger guy, definitely not a grown man but probably older than high school. He's wearing dark jeans and no shirt, holding a cell phone to his ear. I guess some phones can get reception out here. “I don't care what you feel,” he says, running a hand through his short hair. It looks green from the reflection of his porch light, but it's probably brown. “You should have thought about that before you fucked that dude.”

I gasp and turn away, feeling guilty for eavesdropping on such a private conversation. I'm glad he doesn't know I'm here.

“Stop calling me,” he says, his voice weary. “I don't want to hear from you again, or I swear I'll break this phone in half.”

I let out a deep breath. Break his phone in half? He has no idea what life is like without a phone.