Part 19 (1/2)
”Yes, ma'am.”
I turn the ignition and the car sputters to life. The tape player blasts at full volume, but Dylan doesn't even flinch. I put my foot on the clutch, the other on the gas, and we careen out of the driveway and onto the street. Dylan squeezes her fist shut.
”Okay, good, we're moving, now slow the f.u.c.k down a little, okay?” she yells over the music.
I laugh, just happy that I'm taking us somewhere. I slow for a red light and turn the volume down.
When the light changes to green, I take my foot off the clutch too fast and stall.
”s.h.i.+t!” I turn the key in the ignition and someone in the long line of cars behind me honks.
Dylan says, ”It's okay, it's no problem. They can go around you if they want.”
”s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t.” I turn the ignition again and mess up again and my car lurches then dies.
”f.u.c.k!”
”You just did it a minute ago. You can do it again.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. ”Breathe,” she commands.
I do. I try one more time to start the car. I take my foot off the break and put it onto the gas. Slowly, I ease off the clutch while pus.h.i.+ng down on the gas pedal and the car coughs, lurches, then accelerates smoothly. I squeal, and Dylan leans back in her seat, finally relaxed.
8.
We're broken up into groups in Mr. Robertson's cla.s.s, brainstorming about hypocrisy in The Scarlet Letter, The Scarlet Letter, when my pencil lead breaks and I have to get up to sharpen it. when my pencil lead breaks and I have to get up to sharpen it.
”Who uses pencils like that anymore, anyway?” Dylan teases, and looks back at the book.
I slide past her chair and make my way down the cramped aisle of desks, nearing Henry Lucas and Alicia's friends on my way to the sharpener. The girls are flirting with him as always. SPOILED traces his ear with her finger, ANGEL tugs at his fingertips. I trip over someone's backpack and hear Dylan crack up behind me. ”Sorry!” I chirp, and keep moving. ANGEL'S fingers are climbing up Henry's arm now. He looks annoyed.
”I'm gonna bring my new boyfriend to your party Friday, okay?” asks SPOILED. ”He's older. He could supply the beverages.”
For a few seconds, the sharpener drowns them out. As I pa.s.s their desks again, Henry's asking, ”Who even said I'm having a party Friday?”
I slide into my seat next to Dylan.
”Do you like going to parties?” I ask her.
”Shh!” she says. ”I'm counting how many times Hawthorne uses the word ignominy ignominy in this chapter.” in this chapter.”
”Nerd.”
”I'm thinking of charting it out chapter by chapter to measure the levels of humiliation and disgrace.”
”You can't turn this book into a mathematical equation,” I say.
”I can try,” she says from behind the open pages.
”So, anyway,” I say. ”Parties. What do you think about them?”
”They're fine.”
”Want to know a secret?”
She sets the book down. ”Sure.”
”I've never been to one.”
She blinks. ”What do you mean?”
”I mean, I've never been to a high school party.”
”You've never had beer from a keg?”
”No.”
”You've never sat around with a group of tanked kids and talked about who was hot?”
”No.”
”You've never locked yourself in someone's parents' bedroom and made out?”
I tilt my head, like I'm trying to remember. ”Never.”
”Hmm,” she says. She opens her notebook and scribbles some words and numbers. Then she settles back in her chair and scrutinizes me. Then she settles back in her chair and scrutinizes me.
”Caitlin,” she announces, ”that is a disgrace.”
9.
Taylor calls me later that night. ”Can you come out?” he asks, his voice so ridiculously sweet and hopeful.
”I'll try,” I say. ”Call you back.”
I find my parents out in the garden.
”Look!” My dad beckons me. He holds a green artichoke in each hand like trophies. ”They're the first artichokes of the season.”
”What do you think?” my mom asks. ”Should we grill it? Maybe just with a little olive oil and salt so we can really taste the flavor . . .”
I s.h.i.+ft from one foot to the other. I don't want to hurt their feelings, but I don't want to call Taylor back with bad news, either.
”You're cooking them tonight?” I ask.