When Everything Is Blue(61)

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, and meanwhile I’m working my ass off to save up for school and get good grades. I know it’s selfish, but I’m sick of her getting all their attention and resources.”

“Squeaky wheels, man.”

“And she hates me, Theo. I mean, hates me. She thinks I’m this goody-goody suck-up. Trust me, I’m not, but that’s how she sees it.”

I think about my own sister and how we don’t always see eye to eye, but I know she has my back. I hope it stays that way. I wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.

“It probably has more to do with how she feels about herself,” I tell Ryanne. “It’s hard being the screwup of the family. Hopefully she’ll get better and get over it.”

Ryanne vents a little more about it, and I try to offer help where I can, wishing I could do more to help her out, but maybe listening is enough for now. She pulls into a subdivision that used to house military families during World War II. It’s modest by West Palm comparison, but it’s tidy and well-kept. It looks like the kind of neighborhood where the men spend their weekends mowing the lawn because taking care of your yard is a source of pride and not an inconvenience.

Ryanne pulls up to a small, boxy house the color of a Creamsicle. She goes up to knock on the door while I check out the Accord parked in the driveway. Looks even better in person, all sleek and shiny. The rims are customized too, which is a nice bonus.

Ryanne introduces me to her cousin, Rob. I ask him some questions—How does it run? How long have you had it? Anything wrong? Rob says it belonged to an elderly neighbor who hardly ever drove it, and he bought it off her when she got too old to drive. Mechanically it’s solid, he says, and I can see for myself how it looks. He shows me the stereo system and a couple of subwoofers in the trunk, which is a nice little add-on. I ask him if I can take it for a test drive, and he agrees. I climb in, and the seat’s already kicked back to fit my long legs. Ryanne was right about the headroom. It’s pretty spacious. I adjust the mirrors, even though they’re mostly good, then get a little nervous because this is the first time I’ve ever driven alone and what if I, like, hit a mailbox or something? I pull out, taking it extra slow. Rob asks Ryanne if I have my license, and I pretend I didn’t hear him.

In the actual driving of it, I do fine. I like how it handles, not a boat like Chris’s Volvo, where I’m always worried I’m taking the turns too fast and going to clip someone or hit a curb. This car turns on a dime. I reach an empty straightaway where the subdivision butts up against a canal. I floor it and appreciate its get-up-and-go. Not bad for a compact car.

Back in the driveway, I ask Rob his price. He gives me the same amount listed on Craigslist. Ryanne lowers her glasses to look at him, clears her throat a little. Rob shakes his head at her.

“Since you’re a friend of Ryanne’s, I’ll knock off $500.”

Luckily his price is just about what I have. My dad would probably want me to play hardball, but that’s not really my style. I looked the car up already, and it’s a good deal no matter which way you slice it. I pull out my bankroll and count off the cash in hundred-dollar bills and hand it over to him.

“Sweet,” he says and goes back inside to get the title to transfer over to me, along with the paperwork. The keys are already in my pocket.

I didn’t even realize my hands were trembling when Ryanne grabs hold and does an excited little dance. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, thanks for hooking us up and for the friend-of-a-friend discount.” I’m elated and nervous at the same time. I can’t believe I just dropped my life savings on a car, but damn, it does feel good. My car.

She smiles. “Don’t forget about our date to Plan Z.”

“I won’t. But can I drive?”

“Sure.”

“And bring Chris? I kind of told him I’d go with him too.”

Ryanne smiles and shakes her head in mock displeasure. “Two-timing me already, Wooten?”

I don’t even need to answer her because I’m sure my smile gives me away.




I DRIVE the car home that same day, pull into our driveway, and decide the first thing I need to do after showing it off to my mom and sister is wash, wax, and detail it. I’m out front vacuuming the inside when Chris gets back from surfing.

“Nice wheels,” he comments.

“Thanks, Boss.” I climb out of the back seat and take him in. He’s wearing one of those distressed shirts, so worn through it’s practically see-through, board shorts, and flip-flops, carrying the surfboard he named Baby Blue.

“Are your parents home?” I ask, kind of hoping they’re not.

“Yeah, they worked from home today.”

“Bummer, dude.”

“I told them. After school.”

“Yeah? How’d they take it?”

“Pretty good. There were some lectures about safe sex. My mom wants me to write a five-paragraph essay on the importance of using condoms, including blowjobs. Think that prompt will be on the SAT?”

“Blowjobs too, huh?” Dave and I were pretty careful, but it never hurts to be 100 percent sure. The risk is low, but it’s still a risk. “I should get tested, just to be safe.”

Chris nods. “I didn’t tell them about us. I will. I was just hoping to give them some time to adjust.”