by Kylie Scott
How dare he blame me?
My foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the hatchback flying down the empty back roads. Window open, wind tangling my hair, and The Kooks screaming about having a bad habit. This was good. John had been right about the therapeutic value of driving late at night. If I went fast enough, I could outrace all of the bad memories and terrifying dreams. Leave them far behind in the darkness.
A noise like a gunshot shattered the night as a tire blew. Swerving wildly, the car screeched and shuddered. I braked hard, my head whipping forward, body slamming into the seat belt.
Holy shit.
Carefully, carefully, I steered the hatchback over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. All I could hear was the hammering of my heart. My hands shook, still holding on tight to the wheel. Not dead, just really shaken. Okay.
One at a time, I pried my fingers loose of their death grip. It wasn't easy. Driver's-side door open, I stepped out, knees knocking only a little. Everything was fine. No need for anyone to lose their shit.
The smell of burnt rubber filled the air. Only ragged strips of tire remained on the rear wheel. It could have been worse. Still, I swore up a storm, then popped the hatch, pulling out the jack and spare wheel. Mom and I had practiced for just such an occasion. The first three nuts came off fine, but the fourth one . . . I pulled and I strained and I called it every vile name ever invented, along with a few new ones even Shakespeare might have appreciated.
Nothing worked.
Over and over, the boom of the tire blowing echoed through my head. Not a gunshot. I needed to pull myself together. Except strange noises came from out in the dark, beyond the limits of where the lights could reach. The scuffle of a foot sliding over gravel, the mumbling of voices. Tonight, nature most definitely wasn't my friend.
"Stop it," I whispered. "It's just your imagination. There's no one out there."
Chris stepping out of the blackness, walking toward me with a gun in hand. That smile. That creepy, crazy, murderous smile.
"You're just freaking yourself out, you idiot," I muttered.
Mom would still be at work. Never mind what she'd say if she knew I'd been out cruising at one in the morning. Hang would come to my rescue. If I couldn't get the damn tire off, though, then neither of them stood a chance of doing it, either. I held the cell phone to my ear.
"Edie?" he asked, voice husky from sleep.
I took a deep breath. "John."
"What's wrong?"
"The, uh, one of my tires blew. I tried to change it myself, but--"
"Where are you?" There were rustling noises in the background, the jangling of keys.
"Bell Road. A couple of miles along."
"Get in the car and lock the doors," he ordered. "I'll be there soon."
"Okay. Thanks."
I let down the jack and did as told, sitting in the dark, cell held tight in my shaking, sweaty hands. Deep, calm breaths and nice thoughts. I closed my eyes, concentrating on good things. Kittens and cake and books and shit. Happy things. At least I'd gotten semi-dressed in black yoga pants and a tank top, a pair of flip-flops on my feet.
Years passed. Or at least twenty-three minutes. Someone tapped on the window and I shrieked. John. I flipped the lock and slowly climbed out of the car.
"You all right?" he asked, face set.
I nodded. "Thanks for coming."
"What were you doing out here?"
"You were right," I said. "About driving at night. It helps."
He nodded.
"Here, hold the light." He pressed it into my hands and dropped down onto one knee beside the busted wheel. Evilest tire in all of creation. Of course, for him the nut came off on his first try with ease. Bastard of a thing.
"I must have loosened it for you," I said, the tips of my ears burning with embarrassment.
He just grunted.
"I do know how to change a tire. It was just, you know, the nut."
A nod.
John had the car roadworthy again in about two minutes. God, for him it'd all been so simple. The boy probably thought I'd lured him out here under false pretenses. Because I wanted his attention or something stupid.
"You okay to drive?" he asked.
I hid my shaking hands behind my back. "Absolutely."
"I'll follow you back to your place," he said. "Make sure you get there okay."
"Thank you."
Back at home, I don't know what I expected. A wave of the hand, a chin tip maybe. But he parked his car and got out, moseying on over to where I stood.
"Your mom home?" he asked.
"No. She doesn't finish until four."
I'd left on the light in the front hall and the bedside lamp in my bedroom. Walking into a totally dark house had a tendency to freak me out these days. Meanwhile, my stupid hands were still trembling. The noise the tire made when it blew had been shocking, true. But that had been nearly an hour ago. I shook them hard, trying to dislodge the fear, to get the tremor to ease.
When I looked up, John stood silently watching. "I can stay for a while if you want."
"No," I said, guilt making me refuse. "Really, you should go home, get some sleep. I'm going to as well."
He just looked at me.
"Thank you for rescuing me. I would have been in real trouble if you hadn't come."
A brief smile flitted across his lips. "No problem."
I smiled back at him, took a deep breath, and raised my hand in farewell. "Good night."
"'Night."
"Or morning."
"Right."
The curve of his lips could have kept me occupied for hours. Wings stirred in my belly, both scary and thrilling at the same time. Friends again or not, liking John in a more-than-that way was dumb. Insane even. Still, just to be sure where we stood, I wanted to ask if the fight had been archived, forgotten. Except just bringing it up again seemed risky during this time of peace. Maybe I should, though. Clear the air and all that.
"Edie," he said, shaking his head. "I'm waiting for you to go inside."
"Oh. Right."
"You sure you don't want me to stay?"
More than I could say, and for reasons less than pure. "Oh, no. I, um . . ."
"I don't mind."
"No, no. I'm fine. Really. Thanks." I rushed to the front door, unlocking it with all due haste. "'Bye."
"I'll see you tomorrow at school." He took a step backward, watching me all the while. Then he turned, heading straight for his car.
"Today at school," I called out.
He laughed. "Whatever."
Such was the magic of John Cole, I even managed to get to sleep. Bet I still had the stupid smile on my face, too.
John: Hey
Me: Hi. How's 1:38 am treating you?
John: Shit. You?
Me: Same
John: No driving at night alone again right?
Me: I'm guessing you want to hear no...
John: correct
John: Been worrying about it
Me: Alright. I'll text you first if I do.
John: Ok thanks
Me: And you'll let me know too
John: You want to know when I go out?
Me: That's what you're asking from me Me: Hello?
John: Ok deal fine
John: I can look after myself though Me: I put a baseball bat in my car.
John: You're weaponized now?
Me: Or ready for impromptu baseball games John: Right
Me: So...what else shall we talk about? What do you usually discuss when you text girls at one in the morning?
John: I don't
Me: Sure you do. Come on. Tell me.
John: You don't want to hear that Me: I absolutely do.
John: lets talk about movies or something Me: Waiting.
John: Shit Edie
John: I ask them if I can come over Me: That's all?
John: Yeah
Me: You don't text them anything else?
John: No<
br />
Me: None of the "what are you wearing" thing first?
John: No
Me: Let me get this straight, you give them no lead-in whatsoever?
John: Already told you no. Can we talk about something else now?
Me: Man, you're so lazy.
John: It works
Me: I'm actually disappointed in you right now.
John: FFS
John: we both get what we want. Why complicate things?
Me: I'm beginning to think life is about the complications.
John: Enough shit in life is complicated thanks. Sex can stay easy Me: Not even a prom date on the horizon?
John: not going
Me: Got other plans?
John: hang at the lake maybe. What do you think Me: You're inviting me?
John: yeah
Me: Cool. Sounds good.
John: We could jump off the rock again Me: Okay. But just to warn you, I'm wearing a prom dress even though I'm not going to the dance and this isn't a date. It'll be something truly sparkly and stupid.
John: Remind me to bring floaties so you don't sink.
Me: Thanks, I appreciate that.
John: No problem
Me: You seriously wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with me?
John: No. If that's what you want, go crazy Me: You're sure? Because I'm talking big hair, a corsage and fluffy skirts, serious amounts of sequins and tulle.
John: whatever makes you happy. I'll even buy the corsage for you.
Me: :)
John: I'll bring the flowers and drinks and you wear the dress.
Me: Done.
John: Tell me something good
Me: We're in our last year of high school.
John: So?
Me: So time to get the hell out of here.
John: And go where?
Me: Everywhere.
John: What about college?
Me: College is out of this town. It's a start.
John: yeah
Me: You thinking of going?
John: maybe. Been looking at a certification for landscape technology and construction management. But my brothers not doing well so leaving him could be hard Me: I'm sorry.
John: going to try sleep. Need to keep my strength up for fishing you out of the lake soon Me: Ha
John: How about you?
Me: I might try to sleep too. Night John John: Night E sweet dreams
The next night, a hand waved in front of my face and I sat upright, screaming. The motion ripped my earbuds out, but Marina and the Diamonds played on without me.
"Hey," said John, as calm as ever.
"Holy shit," I whispered, hands clutching at my chest. "I really wish you'd stop doing that."
"It's only the second time."
"Let's not have a third."
He lazed on my windowsill, backpack in hand for some reason. "You didn't answer your door. What am I supposed to do?"
"Okay. All right." I grabbed a pillow, covering up my baby-blue sleeping shorts. Little could be done about the slightly tight tank. At least it had a shelf bra and nothing was hanging naturally. "So what's going on?"
"We're studying."
"We're what?" I scrunched up my face, hitting stop on the music. "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday night."
He just shrugged. "Working all weekend. Now is the time I've got."
No wonder he had such a great tan, mowing lawns and landscaping all weekend. And muscles. Let's not forget the muscles. I respected him heartily for them.
"You didn't do that well on the book essay," he continued. "Better than me, but still."
"Hey. C-plus is a passing grade."
"But you usually do better, don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. What with my guilt-ridden face, he didn't need to. I didn't exactly feel guilty for my own sake. I couldn't care less if I got an F. But I knew Mom would be disappointed. "Every time I look at you in class, Edie, you're staring out the window. Not paying attention."
My heart sped up once more. "You look at me?"
"You're seated right in front of me," he said with a smile. "I can hardly miss you."
Stupid heart. "Right."
"It's not like I've got anyone else I can study with," he said, face turned away. "Anders is barely getting by for his basketball scholarship. Anyway, he's at some party."
"I would have thought you'd be there too."
"Nuh. Not in the mood." He pushed back his hair. "Plus I don't want to fail English, and you said you'd help me."
Without further ceremony, his backpack was dropped onto my bed, making the mattress bounce. He'd either packed every textbook known to mankind or a bowling ball. Odds were sadly on the latter. Not that I was even any good at bowling.
"Of course I'll help you," I said. "And you're right, I've had issues focusing on books and classes since it happened. It's stupid; my brain just doesn't want to seem to do its thing."
"You still seeing that shrink?"
I nodded.
"You told him about this?"
"Not exactly."
His gaze narrowed. "Why not?"
"I don't know." I turned away, embarrassed. "People died that night and I'm popping pills over issues like night terrors and panic attacks. Poor me."
"On the other hand, not much point being alive if you're not willing to get your shit together." His voice was no-nonsense and his face the same. "Is there?"
"Ouch."
"Am I wrong?"
I hung my head. "No."
"Tell him everything. Let him help you."
Scowling at the floor, I searched for a change of subject. Anything would do. "And what about you, John? Who do you have to talk to?"
He leveled his gaze at me pointedly.
"I'm not particularly qualified," I objected. "You don't talk to me that much, either."
"So I'll talk to you more."
Huh.
"That a problem?" he asked, tipping his chin.
"No. Of course not." My heart just about beat out of my chest. "I like talking to you; you know that."
"No, I don't," he said, gaze turned aside. "Half the time I'm not sure if I'm bugging you or what."
"You worry you're bugging me? Seriously?"
Not bothering to reply, he climbed in after his bag. He had on his usual attire of a T-shirt and jeans. Immediately, he started pulling off his Chucks.
"Lucky you took those off," I said, watching him toss them onto the floor with an approving nod. "Mom would be super pissed about shoes on the bed. A hot guy hanging out in my room with me though? Not a problem. Hell, she'd probably give me a high-five."
"You think I'm hot?"
"What? No. I was just making conversation." My face heated. Mental note: Duct tape mouth at first opportunity. "Geez, the ego on you."
Huffing out a laugh, he shook his head. "So you are or you aren't supposed to have boys in your room? I can't keep up."
"Boys are definitely not allowed," I confirmed. "Actually, I'm also not supposed to have anyone over while she's at work. Not without permission."
"I'm here to study."
"That would still be a hard no."
Lines filled his forehead. "You want me to go?"
"No, of course not." I smiled. "I like you bugging me. I like it a lot."
He laughed softly.
"Got it?"
"Got it. Bit of a rule-breaker these days, aren't you?" Pulling back his hair, he secured it with a rubber band he'd had around his wrist.
"That's not good for your hair. Use this." I grabbed him a hair tie off my bedside table and he took it with another one of those looks. Lips drawn wide in a vague smile, yet his brows drawn down. Interestingly enough, he used the look a lot around me. As if he didn't quite know why he was going along with what I'd said or something. Like I amused and confused him both at once. The feeling was pretty much mutual.
"Would your parents mind?" I asked, curious. They weren't something he tended to talk about.
"Doubt it. I on
ly talk to them on the phone now and then since they moved a year ago. Dad got offered a job in Anchorage. Dillon was of age and the money was good, so they moved," he said, like it was no big deal. "I had the business to look after and I didn't want to change schools, so I stayed."
"I know you'd said they moved up north, but Alaska?"
"Hmm."
"Never occurred to you to change your mind after the Drop Stop?" Escaping to an icy land of few people sounded pretty appealing to me.
He pursed his lips. "I never thought I'd miss not having my parents with me. When they said they were thinking of moving away, all Dillon and I cared about was freedom." He shook his head. "But no, I didn't want to leave here. My uncle, he's pretty good, and he'd been on me to work for him for a while. Moving in with him for my senior year's a lot easier than starting over up north. And it still gives me some space from my brother."
"Wow."
"Even when Mom and Dad were down here, things weren't much different. Mom didn't like the people Dillon had hanging around, but she sucked at saying no to him. Plus she had church groups and stuff going on. Kept her busy," he said. "Dad was working just about around the clock and was dead tired whenever he was at home, so we tended to keep any friction away from him."
"Did they know about the dealing?"
One side of his lips drew out a ways. "Mom definitely had to. I think she was just really good at not seeing anything that didn't suit her, you know?"
I frowned.
"I'm not sure about Dad. Can't remember me or Dillon ever having to ask for permission," he said. "As soon as Dillon hit high school he was always going out somewhere. Most of the time he didn't mind me tagging along. He had this piece-of-shit truck that was always breaking down and I was better with engines than he was."
"I can't believe your parents moved away, just leaving you with your brother," I said with more bite than intended.
"Think they'd pretty much given up by then."
Just the thought made me furious. And yet . . . "Now here you are, wanting to study on a Saturday night. They were wrong."
His gaze lingered on me, assessing. "Sure you don't want me to go? I don't want to cause trouble with your mom."
"No, stay," I said, answering the earlier question. "You know, I have a theory that most of the rules we're given are nonsense anyway. I'd rather make up my own mind about things. Take for instance you being here. There's nothing for my mother to worry about. Nothing's going on. Nothing's going to happen."