Stolen Car

by Patrick Jones

  “I thought I knew everything about you.” That Ashley’s never heard the story proves I’m so boring that all have forgotten my eighth-grade embarrassment. “So tell me now!”

  “Really, it’s nothing,” I say, wishing I could just shut up for once.

  “If it’s nothing, then you can tell me,” Ashley says, then arches her eyebrow again. “But if it is something, you must tell me. Best friends tell each other everything, always.”

  “Okay, but let’s get out of here in case you get mad,” I reply as I rise from the bench.

  She stands close beside me, then asks, “Why would I get mad at you, Danny?”

  “Because of who I loved and why I loved him,” I start. “It’s pretty shameful.”

  “I promise I won’t get mad, but I need to know.” She sounds excited. “Who was it?”

  “My best friend’s brother,” I say as we walk down the hall and I slide into my past.

  • • •

  “So, how about some details?” Ashley asks as she sucks on a milk shake.

  We’re back in the food court. We find a table near the back, far from Halo Burger in case Evan’s still working. Even though the place is full of screaming babies, cell phone conversations, and teens shouting at nothing, it seems like Ashley and I are alone in the world.

  “You know Kate Barker?” I ask. She nods.

  “Kate and I were best friends,” I say. “Then in eighth grade, we both liked the same boy: Sean Simpson. He was so cute. Only boy in eighth grade who didn’t act like a junior-high jerk.”

  “I think I’m going to barf,” Ashley says, then sticks out her tongue at me. Sean’s in the same grade as Ashley and me but not in any of our classes. He probably spends more time in detention than he does in class. My guess is next year he won’t make it through eleventh grade.

  “It was kind of awkward that we both liked him, being best friends and all.”

  “Don’t worry, I have no designs on Evan,” Ashley jokes.

  “Now I’m going to barf!” I say, then stick my tongue out and point my fingers down my throat.

  After she’s done laughing, she says, “So, you, Kate, and Sean in a big love pie.”

  “No, Kate and Sean as a couple, me sitting alone,” I reply. It’s been years, but the memory still itches like a partially healed scab.

  “Poor Danny,” she says, slightly sarcastic, mostly sympathetic.

  “I can’t tell you how much that hurt,” I say, trying not to lose it in public. “It wasn’t just my best friend doing that to me, but it made me feel so bad about myself. Kate’s prettier than me, and cooler than me. I realized then that no one would ever want me or love me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Ashley says, sounding a little hurt herself. “BFFs are not supposed to have any secrets. It’s part of the code.”

  “This isn’t just a secret,” I say. “This is something to be ashamed of.”

  “Sometimes they’re the same,” Ashley says, looking away from me. It sounds like she’s got something more to say, but she stops herself, then turns back to me. “What happened?”

  “It hurt so bad. I went from adoring Sean to hating him,” I say, accenting my words with a loud sucking sound. My milk shake’s gone; my anger isn’t. Not at Kate, or Sean, but Life the Unfair.

  “You should have been mad at Kate.”

  “Oh, I was. I decided to get back at her by flirting with her older brother, Reid. I’d known him growing up. After the thing with Sean, I started thinking about him that way.”

  “How much older?”

  I try not to look her in the eyes. “I was almost thirteen; he was eighteen.”

  “How grotesque!” What makes Ashley a great friend is her predictability.

  “So I started spending more time at Kate’s house, not just because I wanted to stay away from my house, but because I wanted to see Reid. I thought I’d flirt with him, not that I really knew how. If I could get his attention, I thought that would make Kate mad. Then somehow we’d be even. You do a lot of stupid stuff in junior high.”

  “I guess,” Ashley mumbles.

  “I found myself thinking about Reid all the time,” I say, trying not to smile. “He had this look, this side-of-the-mouth smile, that said, ‘I don’t care what anybody else thinks.’”

  “I know the type,” Ashley says. An odd remark, but I let it pass.

  “Even though I wasn’t supposed to be hanging out at people’s houses if their parents weren’t home, I started hanging out over at Kate’s place after school. I tried to plan my visits for when I thought Reid and his friends would be there. One of them, I think, was Evan’s brother Vic, but I’m not sure since Reid was the only person I cared about. So, one night I was over and they offered us wine coolers. I swear, Ash, it’s the only time I’ve been drunk.”

  “Nobody’s perfect.”

  “Eighth grade seems so long ago, and all of this sounds so stupid now, but then, all this drama mattered so much.” I really hate myself for starting this conversation. Although I’ve given Ashley endless details about my regretful make-out sessions with immature and uncool boys over the past two years, I’ve hidden this story because it hurt so much, which means it was real.

  “So?”

  “I guess I had too much to drink. The party was winding down and people were going off into corners to make out. Kate and Sean started making out and I just felt desperately alone.”

  “Loneliness and liquor, a bad team,” Ashley says, trying to make me laugh.

  “There were all these girls hanging on Reid, but none acted like his girlfriend, so I… ”

  When I pause, Ashley prompts me, “So I?”

  “He was on the back porch having a cigarette. It seemed like my only chance. I told him how cool and cute I thought he was. How much I liked him. How much I’d thought about him.”

  “So did the two of you—”

  “He just stared at me, then he laughed. At first, I thought it was nervousness, but he was laughing at me like I was some stupid kid. Which I was. I got flustered and went back inside.”

  “And what happened?”

  “He told his sister that I’d come on to him,” I say. “I remember Kate yelling at me. I thought it would make us even, and that would cause us to be friends again. But instead of us making up, she just said a bunch of mean stuff, and then she told all Reid’s crew.”

  “So did you and Reid ever hook up?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Danny, if you can’t tell me…”

  “Remember, I was almost thirteen,” I remind her, then sigh. “I ran out of the house. I remember calling my mom to pick me up, crying the entire time until she arrived. I was destroyed.”

  “Danny, I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  “Reid was my first real crush. It’s stupid to say now, but I thought I loved him. But not only didn’t he care, it seemed he didn’t care if he hurt my feelings either.”

  “You must have been so embarrassed.” Ashley states the obvious.

  “I was for a while, but within a week, this other girl in our class found out she was pregnant, so everyone was on to the next scandal.” I sigh again.

  “So what happened with Reid?” Ashley asks.

  “I was too humiliated and hurt to see him again, and Kate got so mean,” I say, choking up at the memory. I’d taken one leap forward only to be slapped two steps back.

  “He never apologized?” Ashley asks. “What a creep. So, where’s lover boy now?”

  “I don’t really know. I don’t talk to Kate anymore, and the kind of people who hang around Reid are not people I want to hang around with.” This is a lie. Reid and his pals were always the coolest kids in school. Kate told me once how Reid showed up at school on Monday wearing his belt backward, and by the end of the week, everyone was doing the same.

  “Well, you have better friends now,” Ashley says.

  “Ash, you kno
w what bothers me most?” I ask, but before she can answer, I say, “I remember all of this so well, but I just know Reid doesn’t even remember me at all.”

  “That might be for the best.”

  I stand up, then say, “Let’s get out of here. I need a cigarette.”

  We drop our trash, then head outside to the bus stop to soak up the warm sun, but now I feel cold. No wonder I never talk about Reid; it depresses me and leaves me feeling bitter.

  We’re silent for a while before Ashley asks, “Did you ever tell him off or get an apology?”

  “No, I never talked to him again,” I answer.

  “That’s sad,” she mumbles.

  “Do you think I should have told him off?” That question has plagued me for years.

  “I don’t know what you should have done, Danny, but I just know you need to make peace with your past,” Ashley says, looking into the distance like she’s beyond all this drama.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t have it hanging over you like a hammer,” Ashley the Wise Wizard says as she stands up. No doubt, the bus is rounding the corner.

  “I don’t care. Why should I forgive him?”

  “I don’t know if you can forgive someone who’s never said he’s sorry,” she says with that all-knowing look in her eyes. “You just need to make peace with your past.”

  “Whatever for?” I say. I pull the killing smoke deep into my lungs.

  Ashley points at the bus headed toward us. “The past’s a big stone; you can push and kick it as much as you want, but it’s not moving.”

  “How did you get so smart?” I ask her, but her only response is a sigh. I put the cigarette out under my foot. “Where were you in eighth grade when I needed all this great advice?”

  Ashley laughs but doesn’t answer as we climb on the bus, finding a seat near the front. Almost immediately, she opens up a book. She’s reading, I’m brooding again. Next to the bus is a metallic blue Shelby Mustang with the windows down, rap music blasting, and the people inside—two girls, two guys—laughing like their lives have never been unfair and they’ve never been happier. I’ve got to figure out a way to bridge the distance from my sad little trailer-park porch to the front seat that always seems so far out of my reach.

  3

  MONDAY, JUNE 16

  “Why don’t you ever trust me?” I yell at my mom. Inspired by my visit, Evan called six times yesterday and twice this morning. I’ve just hung up the phone in the face of Mom’s fury. She’s convinced these phone calls prove that I’m breaking her no-dating rule.

  “In October, when you’re sixteen, you can date,” she says, putting out her cigarette in her coffee cup. It’s her signal that the conversation is over. “You just have to wait a few months.”

  “That’s not fair,” I shout at her.

  “Do your parents let you date?” Mom asks Ashley. I try to avoid fighting with Mom in front of Ashley, but sometimes she drives me so crazy that I can’t control myself. I can barely hear over the loud sound of Carl’s snoring from Mom’s bed. He rejoined us for church yesterday morning and hasn’t left the house since. That means Mom smoothed things over with the police and Carl’s getting yet another chance. But if he’s staying, then I’ll need to find more excuses to stay away from the trailer this summer.

  “This isn’t about Ashley, this is about me,” I say. I think Ashley’s parents would let her date, if she wanted to, but I can’t risk it. Besides, Ashley looks more upset than me, probably because conversations in her house rarely are loud enough to be overheard by neighbors.

  “I don’t see why you want to screw up your life, Danielle,” Mom says sharply.

  “How is one date going to screw up my life?”

  “You really don’t understand boys, do you?” Mom says, breaking out her smug I-know-so-much-more-than-you-know look. “Maybe when you do, then we can talk about this.”

  “Like she’s going to teach me,” I tell Ashley, but loud enough for Mom to hear.

  “What does that mean?” Mom asks. She knows, of course.

  “What do you think it means?” I counter. A little voice inside is telling me to shut up, but facing a whole summer’s worth of Carl makes my words fall like hard driving rain.

  “We’re done!” Mom gets up from the dining room table and heads toward the kitchen.

  I shout after her, “Why don’t we ask Mitch, Carl, or—”

  “I said enough,” she hisses back at me.

  “Or Eddie, Vince, or whoever else you’ve dragged into this house.”

  “Another word and you’re grounded!” She stares me down. I stare back. I won’t blink first.

  “Or we could just ask Dad, if we knew where he was,” I shoot back. Inside I smile; a few days’ grounding is worth it to bring all this out into the great wide open. I turn away from Mom to share my victory with Ashley, but all I can see is the back of her head.

  “Ashley, I’m sorry!” I shout after her as she runs out the door.

  “You don’t listen. You don’t learn, Danielle, that’s your problem,” Mom says.

  I’m torn: wanting to stand and fight with my mother; wanting to run and help my best friend; wanting to grab Carl’s truck keys off the table and drive away, not that I know how to drive. I take a deep breath, not to calm down, but to fire up. “Just because you messed up your life, don’t assume I’ll ruin mine.” I say it so fast I don’t know if Mom hears me. She doesn’t respond right away.

  We just stare at each other in the cool of the morning, no doubt both feeling that same hot blood pumping through our veins. Mom finally speaks. “Go check on your friend, Danielle.”

  I unclench my fists, break my stare, and head out the front door.

  Ashley’s sitting on the three-step porch in front of our trailer. A plane rumbles overhead, while bass from a car somewhere booms. There’s never space for quiet reflection at Circle Pines.

  “You okay?” I ask when it looks like she’s ready to talk.

  Ashley sighs, then says, “You shouldn’t talk to your mother that way.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I don’t want to fight with you too, but you can’t do that,” she says. If her words had weight, the word “can’t” would have weighed a ton.

  “Just because your parents are—”

  “This isn’t about the ’rents,” Ashley cuts me off, then stares at the butts of smoked cigarettes littering the area around our tiny porch. “Your mom is your mom, always. No matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter what happens. Your mom is always your mom.”

  I start to speak, but Ashley interrupts me again.

  “If you don’t believe that, you don’t believe in anything,” she says. She puts her hand on my knee, gets up, and starts walking barefoot across the concrete, away from our trailer. I hurry back inside, gather up her stuff—including her shoes—and a few things for myself, and make sure to avoid my mother. That’s easy to do; she’s in the bathroom, probably wishing the shower water could wash away all her troubles. I take one last longing look at the keys to Carl’s truck and run to catch up with Ashley.

  “You wanna walk over to Wal-Mart?” I ask. Ashley is sitting in the grass in front of a sign welcoming people to Circle Pines. Truth is, someone should warn them to stay away.

  “If you want,” she says, brushing the grass from her jeans.

  “I just don’t want to be here,” I say, reaching out a hand to help her up.

  “I thought you were grounded.”

  “Big deal,” I say, feeling the urge to spit. It wasn’t like I had many places other than Ashley’s to go anyway. “It won’t stick.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asks as we start walking north up Torey Road.

  I stare at the hard road in front of us, then tell her, “Because she knows I’m right.”

  • • •

  After killing a couple hours walking around Wal-Mart, mostly making fun of all the stupid stuff that people buy, we cross Hill Road
to eat at McDonald’s. Ashley pays, since I’m cash poor as usual. In the middle of eating, her phone rings. It’s her Mom tone.

  “I know, I know,” Ashley says in a singsong voice, then hangs up. “I gotta go. Piano lessons today.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I say, but I can only guess. Ashley’s so spoiled it stinks.

  “Piano lessons are not fun!” She taps her fingers loudly on the table.

  “Must be nice to have parents who buy you stuff.”

  “The ’rents do come through,” she says, trying not to smile.

  “I guess when your parents love you, then—”

  Ashley’s smile abandons her as she says, “Never confuse love and money.”

  Her mom picks us up from McDonald’s during her lunch hour, then drives us home. Without actually saying the words, she makes it clear that I can’t hang out with Ashley at her piano lesson, and that after the lesson, Ashley has plans that don’t involve me. Her parents like me, but I don’t think they like that I live in Circle Pines. I thank her for the ride, say goodbye to Ashley, then decide to walk to Evan’s house, which is pretty close. I try to call, but he’s not answering and my batteries are near death. After Ashley’s mom’s car is out of sight, I light up a cigarette and walk slowly toward Evan’s house. With all this hardness in my life, why shouldn’t I settle for his sloppy soft kisses?

  “Is anybody home?” I yell, banging hard on the door of Evan’s house. I’m just about to leave when I hear the garage door opening. There’s a loud sound, like a car without a muffler, and a billow of white smoke. I cough once, then walk over to the garage.

  “Is Evan home?” I shout over the racket. A guy’s in there working on a rusty old gold Grand Am. The hood’s popped up, so all I can see is a pair of beat-up old white Converse sneakers.

  “Who wants to know?” he asks, then the hood closes. The guy’s sporting a worn black Pink Floyd T-shirt, which matches his short black hair. He’s got two silver rings in his left eyebrow, a small star tattoo on his neck, and a scruff of beard. He looks very familiar.

  “I’m his friend Danielle,” I say as I start to back away slowly.

  “We talked on the phone,” the guy says. He wipes his hands on a rag, then holds out his right hand, which I shake, trying not to give off any hint of recognition. “I’m Vic.”