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I barely get the word out of my mouth and Mitzi’s back tires are kicking dirt in their wake. Glancing over my shoulder, I see my mother yelling after me. When she’s almost too far away to recognize, the man she’s screwing pulls open the front door and fills the frame with his own. Revolted, I right myself in my seat and finally fasten the seatbelt.
It isn’t until we’ve turned onto the main road that Mitzi asks, “So, do you want to talk about it?”
I look over at my best friend. Her dark, brunette hair is styled in a long ponytail, a couple loose strands pulled free and dangling from above her ears. She’s wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank top—pale blue and clinging to her petite torso—along with a pair of white, cut-off shorts. Summer’s almost over, but Mitzi looks so carefree, it’s as if she lives in a perpetual summer. If she wasn’t my best friend, I’d be jealous of her seemingly perfect life.
“Nora?” Mitzi prompts, taking her eyes off the road for a quick second.
“No,” I finally respond, looking away from my friend and out the side window. “I don’t.”
This day didn’t start much different than all the rest of them. Earlene hungover and angry for no reason. I had been trying to clean up the trailer. It was a mess after only God knows what happened between Earlene and her “guest” last night. The place is barely big enough for the two of us. I can’t think when it’s a mess. Yet, somehow, seeing me cleaning was enough to set off Earlene’s temper.
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”she’d asked.
“No,”was all I said in reply.
Earlene guffawed.“Good. Cause you’re not. You’re white trash, just like me. Don’t think I don’t know you’re spreadin’ your legs for that football player boyfriend of yours. It’s only amatter of time before he knocks you up then leaves you high and dry.”
I close my eyes, a frown tugging at my brow as I try to shove away the memory of our most recent exchange. It isn’t even that she called us the same that bothers me so much—it’s how insignificant she made it sound—my intimacy with Lawson.
We’ve only done it twice. And it would be a lie to say I don’t want to do it again, or that I don’t think about how it feels to have him inside of me. To have his hands everywhere but his eyes staring straight into mine.
No—what I have with Lawson is nothing like anything my mother has ever known.
“God, I can’t wait until I’m eighteen,” I sigh, thinking how two years feels almost like an eternity.
Mitzi doesn’t say anything in reply. She just drives. Every mile she puts between us and the trailer park makes it easier for me to breathe, and we both know it. When we come to a stop fifteen minutes later, I shake myself free of my thoughts at the sound of Mitzi’s car horn. She presses it once, then a second time—holding it longer in an obnoxious manner. My head cleared of its fog, I look out the window, then smile at Mitzi when I realize where we are. She winks at me, then honks the horn one more time.
“Al’right, al’right, I heard you the first time,” hollers Billie as she opens the front door and comes bounding across the yard.
I roll down my window upon our friend’s approach, and Billie folds her arms at the base of the opening as she pops her head in and smiles her pretty, dimpled grin.
“You comin’ or what?” asks Mitzi
Billie’s dimples deepen. “Let me just tell mama I’m leavin’. Be right back.”
True to her word, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed rebel is gone less than two minutes, and then the three of us are on our way. Billie insists Mitzi turn on the radio, and eighties rock is blaring when we pull in front of our next stop.
Jedidiah is already outside, tossing footballs through an old tire hanging from an even older tree. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he drops the ball he’s got in his hands and struts over to the car full of girls.
“Well, well, well—what do we have here?”
“How ‘bout you get in and find out?” Mitzi all but demands.
Jed chuckles, runs his fingers through is overgrown blonde hair—which falls right back onto his forehead—then casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother asking anyone’s permission before he’s shoving his tall frame into the backseat, insisting Billie scoot over.
I don’t know what Mitzi’s plan is, but I don’t care. With the music playing and the warm, summer breeze blowing through my hair, I’ve almost forgotten my argument with Earlene. My best friend has a knack for helping chase away a bad mood.
Ten minutes later, we’re winding our way through another neighborhood—one I know quite well. This time, when Mitzi comes to a stop, she doesn’t honk. Rather, she looks at me with raised eyebrows and says, “Well, go get that boy of yours. Jaybird, too. Tell ‘em to hurry up.”
For a second, I don’t move. I stare at Mitzi, wishing I could find the words to express my appreciation. Not just for picking me up, for gathering our friends, or for bringing me to my boyfriend’s front door—but for knowing exactly what I need without me having to say a word.
Mitzi’s face softens and she offers me a subtle, knowing nod. “Go on,” she murmurs.
This time, I obey, all but sprinting up the drive and around to the Steele’s front porch. I ring the bell once, and my belly tingles in excitement when it’s Lawson who pulls open the door.
“Hope you’re done with your chores, Lawson Steele. Mitzi’s callin’ the shots. And if I had to guess, I’d say we’re headed for the lake.”
“Oh, yeah?” he mutters, speaking through a half-cocked grin as he takes a step toward me.
