We passed a lip-locked couple—all tangled fingers and soft laughter. I wondered how that felt.
Roger’s car was cream colored and shaped like an egg. The inside reeked of stale ashes and engine oil. Mom had a car like his once—even the brown upholstery was the same. Like cheap bath towels.
Roger reached over Naomi’s knees and snagged his green pipe from the glove box. Then he pulled out a plastic baggy filled with what looked like herbs.
“Ooh, that looks good.” Naomi grinned.
“Yeah, it’s real smooth.” He stuffed a pinch into the pipe and shoved the baggie back into the glove box.
“Good, because Scott’s been getting bunk lately.”
“You’re still hanging out with Scott?” I asked. The contents of my stomach crept into my throat. Why did she insist on hanging out with these guys?
“He might’ve dropped by last night.” She smiled wide and took the pipe from Roger.
He squinted at her. “He hooked up with Kelly this weekend, you know.”
She bit her lip, shrugging. “So? He already told me.”
“He was scoping out Drea on Saturday too.”
“And he told me he was totally joking.”
I swallowed hard and focused on the motor oil bottles below my feet. “Didn’t sound that way to me.”
“Do you buy everything he tells you?” Roger asked.
“Yeah, he said you’d say that too.” Naomi thrust the pipe in front of me. “You get to do the honors, Drea.”
“No, tha—”
“Why are you so into him?” Roger spoke over me.
Naomi rolled her eyes and wiggled the pipe at me. “You smoking or not?”
I took it from her, letting the cold metal sink into my palm. She settled back in the front seat and gazed out the window.
“Hey, there’s Justin,” she said.
“Where?” I asked, scanning the parking lot.
“In his fancy car. He’s, like, taking a nap or something.”
Justin’s black BMW was two cars down, facing us. He had his seat reclined, and his head bobbed slightly—like he was lost in a song.
“Do you think he smokes?” Naomi asked.
“Yeah, right,” Roger said. “He’s got Momma’s Boy written all over his sorry ass.”
“Shut up. He’s nice,” she said.
He shook his head at her. “Is there anyone you don’t want to bone?”
“Yeah—you.”
Roger shifted in his seat and drummed his hands against the steering wheel. “Whatever.”
Naomi slapped my knee. “Come on—use it or lose it, babe.”
“You go first,” I said, handing it back to her.
She stuck the pipe between her lips and ran the lighter over the end. Her face turned bright red before she finally blew the smoke out. The pungent odor stung my nostrils like Mom’s overheated coffee.
“Nice.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She squinted at me when I hesitated to take the pipe from her. “Why do you look so freaked?”
“I don’t know.” I took the pipe and the lighter from her. The warmth of the metal burned into my hand this time. Naomi and Roger watched me with half smiles—as if they knew I had no clue what I was doing.
And then the bell echoed from the school. “We should go,” I said, dropping the pipe in Roger’s lap.
“Watch it,” he said.
Naomi rolled her eyes. “You got time for a toke, hon.”
My throat tightened and my chest felt heavy. All I wanted to do was get out of that car. I fumbled with the lock, but the door didn’t budge. “Let me out.”
“Uh—you locked it,” Roger said, shaking his head and clicking it open again.
“What’s wrong with you?” Naomi asked.
“I can’t breathe in here.” I shoved the door open and flung my backpack over my shoulder.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Naomi said.
I slammed the door shut and weaved through the parked cars. The drizzle had thickened into a soft rain, making me shiver. I was about to make a run for the school when someone grabbed my elbow and pulled me behind an SUV.
“Hey”—Justin spun me around—“it’s just me.”
I sucked in my breath and tried to break free, but he tightened his grip on my arm.
“Do you not see security standing about fifty feet away?” he asked.
I peeked around the rear of the large silver vehicle he was leaning against. A man and woman in blue rain jackets stood at the parking lot entrance. The man spoke into a two-way radio, and the woman began walking in our direction.
“She’s coming,” I whispered.
“Shit, I hate closed campuses.” He slipped his hand into mine, leading me around the front of the SUV. I wondered if he’d been to as many schools as I had.
Rain tapped the hood of the car, drowning out the sound of the woman’s footsteps. We squatted down beneath the headlights. Justin’s cheek was only a couple inches from mine, but somehow it didn’t feel close enough.
“What now?” I asked, my heart racing in my chest.
He put his finger to his lips as the sound of heels passed us by. I peered around the side of the SUV. The security woman moved slowly, glancing at the spaces between the cars. I looked back at Justin. Droplets had formed on the tips of his eyelashes, making them look even longer.
He met my gaze. “You smell like a concert.”
“So?”
The beep of a two-way radio echoed nearby. “All is clear on my end,” the woman said.
The radio crackled again, and a man’s voice broke through. Most of his words were too distorted to make out. “Okay… check the… and bathrooms.”
The hissing of the radio and her footsteps faded into the distance. Justin peered over the hood and stood up.
“They’re gone,” he said, ruffling his wet hair.
I used the bumper to hoist myself up, but my shaky legs made me stumble back.
He smirked. “Need some eyedrops?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a pretty straightforward question.” He tilted my chin, gazing at me. His left cheekbone was smeared with eyeliner. “Nah, you’re good.”
“I need to get to class.”
“So go to class,” he said softly, dropping his hand. His lips twitched like he was about to laugh.
But I didn’t want to go to class. I wanted to ask him what was so damn funny, or if he really liked Kari, or if he’d ever smoked pot. Anything, really. “What were you listening to in your car?”
His smile faded, and he shrugged. “Probably someone you don’t like.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“So you can hate me more?”
“I don’t… never mind.” I brushed past him and headed toward the school, but he didn’t follow.
“‘Bus Stop’ by the Hollies,” he called after me.
I was glad he couldn’t see the cheesy grin on my face. Mom always played that song when she was in a good mood. And we’d sing an off-key rendition on every road trip. It was the number-two most-played song on my iPod.
M onday, September 10History is boring.
“Andrea Horvath?” the teacher asked.
I glanced up, dropping my pen. “Yeah?”
“You’re wanted in Jackie Bartlett’s office. Take your things, please.”
Great, the school counselor. I’d rather have listened to Mrs. Heinz’s skewed perception of U.S. history.
Justin was leaving when I got to Jackie’s office. He hadn’t dressed like me again, thankfully. But he had a slightly different look every day. Almost like he fished things blindly out of a suitcase. Today he wore a gray thermal and a pair of tattered jeans.