The Secret of Ella and Micha(4)

I smother a laugh and search the GPS for the nearest restroom. "There's one right off the exit, but I think it's more of an outhouse."

"Does it have a toilet?"

"Yes."

"Then it works." She makes a sharp swerve, cutting off a silver Honda. The Honda lays on its horn and she turns in her seat to flip him the middle finger. "What a jerk. Doesn't he understand that I have to pee?"

I shake my head. I love Lila to death, but sometimes she can be a little self-centered. It's part of what drew me to her; she was so different from my old friends back in Star Grove.

My phone beeps again for the millionth time, letting me know I have a message waiting for me. Finally, I shut it off.

Lila turns down the music. "You've been acting weird ever since we left. Who called you?"

I shrug, gazing out at the grassy field. "No one I want to talk to right now."

Five minutes later, we pull up to the outhouse at the edge of town. It's more like a shack with rusty metal siding and a faded sign. The field behind it is spotted with corroded cars and trucks and in front of it is a lake.

"Oh thank God!" She claps her hands and parks the car. "I'll be right back." She jumps out and shuffles inside the bathroom.

I climb out of the car and stretch my legs, trying not to look at the lake or the bridge going over it, but my gaze magnetizes toward the level bridge with beams curving overhead and out from the sides. The middle one was where I was standing the night I almost jumped. If I squint one eye and tilt my head, I can spot it.

An old Chevy pickup comes flying down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust. As it nears, my nose twitches because I know who it is and he's one of the last people I want to see. The truck stops just outside the perimeter of the field behind the restrooms. A lanky guy, wearing a tight t-shirt, a snug pair of jeans, and cowboy boots comes strutting out.

Grantford Davis, town pothead, infamous brawl starter, and the guy who dropped me off at the bridge that God awful night eight months ago.

I bang on the bathroom door. "Come on Lila, hurry up."

Grantford looks my way, but there's no recognition in his eyes, which isn't surprising. I've changed since the last time anyone saw me, shedding my gothic clothes, heavy eyeliner, and tough-girl attitude for a more lighter and pleasant look, so I blend in with the crowd.

"You can't rush nature, Ella," Lila hisses through the door. "Now let me pee in peace."

I watch Grantford like a hawk as he rolls a tire across the field toward his pickup.

The bathroom door opens and Lila walks out cringing. "Gross, it was so disgusting in there. I think I might have caught herpes just looking at the toilet." She shivers, wiping her hands on the side of her dress. "And there were no paper towels."

Grantford has disappeared, although his truck is still there.

I grab Lila's arm and tug her toward the car. "We need to go."

Lila elevates her eyebrows questioningly as she tries to keep up with me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I say. "There was just this guy over in the field that I really don't want to talk to."

"Is he an old boyfriend?"

"No, not even close...." I trail off as Grantford rounds the bathroom.

There's sweat on his forehead and grass stains on his jeans. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Why?" I question, swinging the car door open. Please don't bring up that night. Please.

Lila freezes as she's opening the door and her gaze darts to me. "Ella, what's going on?"

Grantford tucks his hands into his pockets, staring at the hood of the car. "This ain't your car, is it?"

"No, we just stole it and took it for a joy ride." Shit. Ten minutes back and my old attitude is slipping out. "I mean, yes it is - her car anyway." I nod my head at Lila.

"Well, I was just wondering how fast it goes?" He gives me a fox smile that makes me want to gag.

I was never a fan of Grantford. He always had a sleazebag attitude, which was part of the reason why I had him drive me to the bridge that night - he was the only one I knew who would leave me there alone.

I can't help myself. "Probably a lot faster than your pick up over there."

He has a shit-eating grin on his face. "Is that a challenge?"

I shake my head and motion for Lila to get in the car "Nope, that wasn't a challenge. Just a mere observation."

Recollection fills his eyes. "Wait a minute. Do I know you?" Ignoring him, I start to shut the door, but he catches it. "Holy crap! I do know you. You're Ella Daniels." His eyes mosey up my legs, cutoff jeans, lacy white tank top, and land on my eyes lined with frosty pink eyeliner. "You look... different."

"College will do that to you." I scale up his scuffed cowboy boots, his torn jeans, and stained shirt. "You haven't changed a bit."

"I see your mouth hasn't changed at all," he snaps. "And besides, you didn't change for the better. In fact, you look like you could be friends with Stacy Harris."

"Don't exaggerate the situation," I say. Stacy Harris was a popular girl in our grade; head cheerleader, homecoming queen, wore a lot of pink.

His face scrunches. "You didn't just change on the outside either. If anybody would have compared you to Stacy Harris, you'd have punched them in the face."