The Rest of the Story(51)

“Fine,” I said. And I turned the key.

Since the engine was already on, however, it made a loud, screeching noise, sending another nearby gull into sudden flight. Shit. My face flushed, bright red I was sure, and I felt tears in my eyes.

“Engine’s on,” Roo said cheerfully. He was not looking at me, but straight ahead. “Now let’s just get into reverse so we can back out of here.”

I did, swallowing a huge lump in my throat as I did so. Then I hit the gas, gently, moving out of the space in a very slow, wide arc.

“Tip number one,” he said as I switched gears. “Never back up more than you have to.”

I looked around the empty lot. “We’re, like, the only ones here.”

“True. But everything is practice. So you should do it right. Try again.”

“Get back in the space, you mean?”

“Yep.” He sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ll wait.”

I pulled back in, then reversed out once more, this time keeping the car tightly between the empty spaces. “Better?”

“Great,” he said. “Now: the road.”

It wasn’t easy. I got beeped at as I turned out of Bly Corners (“Not your fault, they’re being an asshole,” Roo said) as well as when I was merging onto the road home (“Okay, that one was your fault, watch your blind spot next time”). But unlike my dad, who did commentary on my driving between obviously clenched teeth, and Trinity, who ignored my panic while looking at her phone, Roo actually was, as he’d claimed, a calming presence. He watched everything, from what I was doing to the traffic around us, correcting and praising as necessary. Even when I froze as we approached a huge pothole—I drove right into it, almost taking Mimi’s muffler off in the process—he just said lightly, “And that’s why we steer around road hazards.”

Even so, by the time I got him back to the Yum truck, I was soaked with sweat, my shirt sticking to my back and my nerves jangled. “I can’t believe I did that,” I said. “I think that’s the farthest I’ve driven, like, ever.”

“You still have to get back to Mimi’s,” he reminded me. I slumped a bit. “But hey! It’s the perfect way to cap this off. Solo drive to celebrate. A win-win.”

I just looked at him. “Are you always this positive about everything?”

“Me?” I nodded. “No. In fact, about a year ago, I went through a real doom-and-gloom phase. Wore black, sulked, shut myself in my room. Good times.”

“I can’t imagine that,” I said, because I really couldn’t.

“I was working through stuff. Thinking about my dad, how I never knew him. You know, woe is me, et cetera.” He pulled a hand through his hair, leaving a bit sticking up. Something I was already thinking of as his signature look. “But then I realized me being all down was really a drag, not just for me but for my mom. She’s had enough darkness already. For her, at least, I figured I should at least try to look for the good in things.”

“And it was that easy?” I said, doubtful.

“It was a process,” he admitted. “I also got my license. That helped.”

I gave him a look. “How convenient for this story.”

“No, seriously!” he said. “Once I could drive, I could literally go places. This small town, my dad’s accident . . . I could get out of it all. Even if it was just for a little while. Like a trip to Bly Corners.”

I considered this. “You could also walk there to clear your head, though.”

“You could,” he agreed. “But the trip would take a lot longer.”

I had to admit, he had me there. Not that I wanted to tell him this, so instead I said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why does everyone call you Roo?”

He sighed. “My real name is Christopher. When I was little, I was super into kangaroos. Some might say obsessed. I couldn’t say the whole word for a while, so I called them roos. It stuck.”

I smiled. “That’s pretty cute.”

“To everyone else,” he agreed. “Now I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever been on a plane?”

I bit my lip. “Yeah. A bunch of times.”

“I knew it!” He snapped his fingers. “I could tell.”

“How can you tell something like that?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe you just look like you’re going places.”

It was so stupid and corny, but still, I laughed. And now, on the porch with Bailey and Trinity, I felt myself again begin to grin, remembering this, before I quickly rearranged my face into a neutral expression. This had kept happening over the last few days, my mind drifting to one exchange or another from the trip to Bly Corners even when I tried to stay focused. Stop it, I thought. Blake is the boy you’re going to Club Prom with.

Right.

Celeste squinted into her camera, a Pop Soda dangling from her other hand. “Okay. Now let’s take one of just the girls. Gordon, get in there.”

“Mom,” Bailey groaned. “I think you have enough pictures.”

“What? I’ve barely taken any,” Celeste said, gesturing for us to move in closer in front of the gardenia bush chosen as the backdrop for this documentation. “Gordon. Put down the gorilla book and get between them.”