The Book of Unknown Americans(64)

“I think I should start a radio station,” Maribel said suddenly.

“What kind of radio station?”

“I like music.”

“Are you talking about a radio station at your school? Do they have that?”

“I could do it.”

“Sure, why not?”

“I could.”

“I believe you.”

I felt her staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re the only one who thinks I can do anything,” she said.

We drove for the next hour and a half and the snow kept falling, even though it wasn’t sticking to the pavement, only the grass. I stayed in the right lane, letting people pass me, and focused on keeping the car steady even though I was practically shaking with the thrill of being out on the road like we were. My cell phone rang at one point, not long after I should’ve been home from school. I fished it out of my pocket and looked at the screen: home. I turned it off. I knew I was in for a mountain of shit when I got home—for seeing Maribel, for taking my dad’s car, for driving with nothing but my permit folded up in my wallet—but I didn’t care. Maribel and I deserved to be together and she deserved to see the snow if she wanted to and nobody was going to hold us back. I was her one chance. I wanted to give her the thing that it seemed like everyone else wanted to keep from her: freedom. Besides, by now the damage was done. If I’d turned around that very second and taken her home and parked my dad’s car in the lot and walked back into the apartment, the mountain of shit wouldn’t have been any smaller.

“I’m hungry,” Maribel said after a while.

“I have some Starbursts in my backpack,” I said. “You can have them.”

“What are they?”

“You’ve never had Starbursts? They’re fruity. Like candy. But chewy.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You don’t want them?”

“Do you have French fries?”

I laughed. “I didn’t even know you liked French fries.”

“I have them at school sometimes.”

“Cafeteria fries? Are you kidding me? That’s like eating ear-wax or something. Listen, I’m going to do you a favor and introduce you to real fries. You won’t know what hit you.”

I pulled off at the next exit. Straight ahead, the golden arches hovered high above a McDonald’s, its roof covered with splotches of snow. The car skidded as I turned and the rosary my mom had hung on the rearview mirror knocked against the glass. I tried to downshift, and the car made this horrible grinding sound, but somehow I recovered and before long we were coasting into the drive-thru lane. I pulled up to the speaker box, thinking I could just shout my order and circle around without stopping the car, but of course it didn’t work out that way. The car clunked and stalled, and Maribel and I were just sitting there, waiting for a voice to come through the speaker. When it did, I yelled out that we needed an order of large fries, and then I depressed the clutch and turned the car on again. We drove around to the first window slowly—I was concentrating on staying in the drive-thru lane without bumping up onto the curb—and I handed over a five-dollar bill, all the money I had with me. This time I just kept the clutch down until I got my change, then let it go again and rolled up to the second window, where I grabbed the bag of fries from a guy who was standing there dangling them out the window.

By the time we left, I was feeling pretty good. If I didn’t say so myself, I was getting the hang of driving stick.

Maribel held the warm paper bag on her lap until we got back on the highway. Then she said, “Can I have one now?”

“Sure,” I said. “They’re probably still really hot, so be careful.”

Maribel pulled out a fry and bit into it.

“So?” I asked, when she didn’t say anything.

“Cafeteria fries suck,” she said, and I busted out laughing while she finished that one and reached for another. Then another. Then another. She was going through them so fast I had to tell her to save some for me.

It was close to five o’clock by the time we got to Cape Henlopen. I parked on the street, near the outdoor showers where people washed the sand off their feet before walking to their cars during the summer.

“You ready to get out?” I asked her.

“Where are we?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

I wriggled out of my coat and handed it to her even though it was about three sizes too big for her. The sleeves covered her hands and the body of it reached almost to her knees. It reminded me of that day I first met her in the Dollar Tree. She’d been wearing that yellow sweater. She’d been swimming in it. Lost in it. Now she was lost in me. I shook my head and smiled. She made me think the craziest stuff, but I didn’t even care.

Maribel and I ducked under the lowered parking gates and walked across the empty lot, our sneakers making prints in the snow, our breath heavy in the air.

The sand, when we came to it, was covered by a dusting of snow. The barreling ocean waves were a silvery blue. We stood side by side and looked out at the vastness, the possibility of everything out there. Within the universe, I felt like a speck, but within myself I felt gigantic, the salt air filling my lungs, the roaring of the waves rushing in my ears.

“It’s so beautiful,” Maribel murmured.