“You got banned from the Grid?” Gracie asked.

Tom’s face colored. “Yeah, they’re pretty serious about drugs on the trains.”

Gracie smacked him in the arm- hard.

“Damn it! How’re we gonna get to an airport now?”

“I know a guy who thinks he can get us on a boat heading for mainland- uh, Nevada, I think. Don’t worry babe, we’ll get there. It’ll just be a little longer than planned.”

“I can’t believe you’d risk our future for some coke.”

“Weed.” Tom mumbled.

“What? You don’t smoke! Don’t tell me you were busted for carrying drugs you don’t even do.”

Tom stood there looking sheepish. Behind him hung dozens of fliers reminding everyone that October was Earthquake Awareness Month and to ‘Remember 1989!’.

“I. Swear. To. God. We’re obviously not going anywhere cause you’re hella dumb. I can’t deal with this right now. Come talk to me when you get your head right.”

Gracie stalked off, one hundred and five pounds of Chinese fury.

Tom wilted in the summer sun. Life in the California Islands was no joke.