Every Other Weekend(126)



“Yeah,” I say, ignoring the queasy flip in my stomach as she opens the door for me and slides back into the passenger seat.

“All right, enough stalling.” She mimes a rim shot to go along with her pun. “Everybody does it when learning to drive stick. Suck it up and get back in the car.”

I try, I really do, but before my butt even hits the seat, I’m grabbing the gearshift like it’s a bull ready to buck me off. Not that I’ve ever ridden a bull—we may live in cattle country but the empty acres around my family’s farmhouse are purely ornamental—but the idea is starting to look a lot less daunting in comparison.

“Do you remember the most important rule of driving stick?”

I nod, buckling my seat belt. “Don’t confuse the clutch for the brake pedal.”

“No—cars can sense fear.”

I slide my gaze toward my friend and watch her grin at me.

“Are you thinking about punching me in the boob?”

She knows I would never admit to something like that out loud, but the reluctant smile inching onto my face gives me away.

“Joke’s on you.” Grinning wider, Maggie twists to face me and pushes her chest out. “Flat as a board, baby. Who’s laughing now, besides every boy ever?”

Both of us, apparently. It takes way too long for my composure to return enough to start the car again. I don’t even mind that it stalls the first time. Or the second. I manage not to stall on my third try, but Daphne is jerking us around so much that it’s a hollow victory.

You can drive from one end of town to the other in ten minutes, but I’m not ready to face even those few stoplights and intersections, so we stick to the back roads on the outskirts of town near my house, where traffic is practically nonexistent. The only other vehicle we’ve encountered is a truck pulled onto the side of Pecan Road, its driver nowhere to be seen. Not that I’m paying much attention to anything but the gearshift growing sweaty in my palm and the stop sign looming ahead. I could roll through it, except I know I won’t. So I downshift and come to a full and legal stop. Beside me, Maggie says nothing. I know what to do; it’s the execution that keeps tripping me up. I still don’t understand how I can be so good with my feet in one area and so awful in another.

Slowly...slowly... I lift my left foot off the clutch as I press down on the gas with my right. I’m not even breathing at this point. Daphne starts to rock a little, but I give her more gas until... Air escapes me in a laugh. “I did it!” More of the happy sound bubbles up inside me as we roll smoothly forward. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy off the ice.

Maggie is hooting beside me, which only makes me laugh harder as I slow to make a turn toward town, knowing I won’t stall.

And then I see him walking along the side of the road. He turns toward the car as we get close and our eyes lock. My laughter dies a second before Daphne’s. An invisible fist slams into my stomach, and the last of my laughter chokes out. Guilt slithers up my legs and torso, tethering me to my seat so that I can’t look away from him.

“No worries,” Maggie says, still bouncing her shoulders in celebration. “Start her up again and...” She leans forward just as Heath Gaines’s eyes narrow at me before he turns away. “More of that famous Southern charm I’ve seen so much of since moving here. And my mom wonders why I’m happier online. Seriously, who even is that?”

Considering Maggie and her mom just moved to Telford, she might be the only person in our entire town who’d have to ask that question, which is one of the many reasons I don’t tell her the truth. If I did, I’d have to tell her about Jason. She knows I have an older brother, but to hear my mom talk about him, you’d think he was away at college instead of where he really is. I hate lying to Maggie, even indirectly, but I’d hate even more for the truth to drive her away.

“No one I know.” That isn’t technically a lie, but it’s so far from the truth that I can’t look at Maggie when I say it. I add something about not wanting to push my newfound understanding with Daphne too far in one day, and since I still need to go by the rink to pick up my paycheck, we end up at her house just as thick gray clouds start rolling across the sky.

“Yuck,” Maggie says, looking at the approaching storm. “That’s gonna hit before you can get home. Why don’t I come and drive you home afterward, in case it gets ugly?” She brightens. “Then I can drive the Zamboni while you grab your check.”

I nod, looking at the clouds with my own frown and absently saying, “Sure, if you want me to lose my job.”

Maggie makes a show of wrestling with indecision before sighing in defeat. Normally, I’d laugh at her, but I’m still looking at the sky and the last thing I want to do is laugh. “I’ll be fine. Besides, your mom would have to pick you up after.”

Maggie’s scowl is fierce but fleeting as she gets out. “Promise me you won’t total Daphne by backing into another car. Trust me when I tell you how demoralizing it is to rely on your mom for rides when you’re seventeen.”

“I’ll be fine,” I repeat. My hands tightening on the steering wheel hides a tremor that has nothing to do with driving, but Maggie doesn’t know that.

“Hey.” Maggie’s put-upon tone is gone.

I bring my gaze to hers.

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