By the time we arrived on the outskirts of LA, the sun was coming up. The horizon was streaked with vivid orange, and the darker sky above looked almost purple. I pulled the car over to the side of the road, since I had no idea where in the city Ronnie’s friend lived. “Wake up, Ronnie,” I whispered. “We’re here.” Ronnie yawned and stretched. “Awesome.” I pointed out the window. “That’s some sunrise, huh?” “It’s the pollution,” she said sleepily. “Dirty cities have the best sunrises.” We switched positions, Ronnie taking the wheel. Zach, thankfully, stirred only briefly before sticking his thumb back into his mouth and slipping back to sleep. As Ronnie drove, I watched the lines of traffic snaking their way into the city and the skyscrapers of downtown beginning to push up along the horizon in a jagged concrete line. I wondered what Darrell would say when my parents called him. Probably he’d shake his head disapprovingly and mutter something lame about “kids these days.”
