Trust(22)

“Anders,” the teacher snapped. Guess she’d gotten tired of playing with her phone. “Be quiet.”

Lips mashed together in frustration, he frowned.





We didn’t talk again. At the end of the hour I strode out into the parking lot, a cool breeze blowing across my face. Everything shone gold in the afternoon light. I slipped on my black sunglasses, then began the twice-daily routine of searching for my car keys. One of these days I’d sort out the crap in my bag.

“Hey! Edie, wait.” Anders loped across the pavement toward me on his long legs. No wonder the boy played sports. “Can you give me a lift?”

“To where?”

“Pipe over by Old Cemetery Road.” He ran a hand over his shaved head. “JC didn’t wait for me, the bastard, and my cell’s dead. Can we go through In-and-Out Burger on the way?”

“That’s not even remotely on the way. And why do you want to go to the old cemetery?”

“I don’t, dummy,” he said. “I want to go to the pipe near the old cemetery.”

And that meant nothing to me.

“A skateboarding half-pipe. Oh, come on. John will be there . . .”

I gave him my very best nonchalant one-shoulder shrug. Even I could feel its inherent fakery.

“Please?”

“Fine.” I unlocked the driver’s-side door and slid inside, the air stale. When I let him in, Anders surveyed the wreckage of my vehicle’s interior with curiosity. I wished he wouldn’t. Empty water bottles rolled around on the floor, along with a scrunched-up Starbucks bag and a stick of deodorant. Hair ties in a variety of colors decorated the gear stick while a couple of items of clothing covered the backseat. Mental note: Clean car sometime.

He did the one-eyebrow-lift thing again. Show-off.

“I take it your car is spotless, wherever it is?”

“Actually, a sad thing happened to my car and my folks won’t get me another. That’s why JC gives me lifts.”

“A sad thing?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” He scratched at his chin. “But I kind of drove it off road and down a hill, and I guess some sedans just aren’t meant for that.”

“I guess not.”

“Hmm. Chicks.” Anders sighed, back to cataloguing the mess. “So much stuff, so high maintenance. Is it any wonder I don’t want to settle down?”

“I’m not high maintenance.” Girls like Kara were high maintenance. My small amount of stuff couldn’t even begin to compare to her gross displays of materialism. “You know nothing.”

The idiot was laughing so hard he clutched at his stomach.

“You want to walk?” I snapped.

Immediately his face sobered. “No, ma’am.”

“Tell me what’s going on with John. What do you mean by ‘a fucky mood,’ exactly?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He bit at a nail. “Feels kind of disloyal to be talking about him behind his back now. Anyway, you’ll see for yourself.”

Frustration had me revving up the engine and pulling out of the school parking lot, tires squealing just a little. Go, me. Happily, Anders kept his mouth shut for a while. If he wasn’t going to give me any useful information, then that was for the best. And here I was, reduced to giving veritable strangers rides just to see John again. Despite his superior status in the school echelons due to dealing, and his general attractiveness, the thought of us ignoring each other no longer appealed to me, if it ever really had. His fault. How could I not be curious after he appeared at my bedroom window in the middle of the night?

On the edge of town past the old cemetery was a park. Obviously neglected if the knee-high grass, scattered trash, and abundance of wildflowers were any indication. Graffiti in every color of the rainbow covered the wooden kids’ play castle and swings.

“What is this place?” I asked, pulling the car in beside a couple of others.

“Some city benefactors’ first attempt at a skate park. Problem is, it’s so far out, you pretty much need a car to get here,” he said. “Kind of defeats the purpose for most people.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess they didn’t want us young hooligans hanging around, messing up the place where the good citizens could see.”

“How’d that work out for them?”

He chuckled. “For them, not so good. They had to eventually build the one in town. For us, though, fucking fantastic. Come and see.”

I locked the car, then followed him down a well-trodden dirt path. People were gathered by the skate ramps, some watching, waiting their turn. Others were throwing back energy drinks and sucking on cigarettes. Music blared, almost obscuring the sound of a set of wheels thundering across the pavement. I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head. Only one person flew up and down the sides of the pipe, his body and board moving and looking like a dream.

John Cole dressed in only faded black jeans and Converse dazzled my eyes. Add in the hardness of his chest, shoulders, and arms, glistening with sweat courtesy of the late-afternoon sun, and I was on the verge of writing him bad poetry.

Cool girls clapped and called out to him from nearby. One of them noticed me watching and sneered as if he was her property and she was marking her territory. Sadly for her, dirty looks didn’t do much. Peeing might have worked out better. No one wants urine stains on their Docs.