I eye him now, wearing much trendier clothing now that he’s gotten older and filled out a bit. He’s no longer that scrawny nerd kid from back in the day.
“I’d love some help,” I say, giving him a pleading look.
He takes the tools and gets to work, removing the lug nuts like it’s simple. And it is kind of simple as I watch him. He positions the jack under the car, lifts it up, then changes out the tires, using the same lug nuts to put the spare tire back on.
“You’ll want to get this tire fixed as soon as possible,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow. “And drive careful, because these little spare tires can’t handle normal wear and tear.”
“Thank you so much, Jaxon.”
He flinches. “You know my name?”
And suddenly that dorky little kid I used to know is back. I nod. “Of course. We used to ride the same bus.”
He blinks.
“When you lived on Cherry Street. Remember?”
I can’t tell what kind of expression he has right now, and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. “Yeah, I remember. You’re Mae, right?”
He has to be joking. There’s no way he doesn’t remember me. He used to have a freaking crush on me. Maybe he’s just trying to act cool.
“That’s me,” I say, standing up. I grab my old flat tire and roll it to the back of my car, then heft it into the trunk. Jaxon carries the jack and crowbar and sets them next to the tire.
Jaxon scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to say this but…”
I hold back a smile. This is it. He’s totally going to ask me on a date. I’ll say yes, and the thirty days will begin. I can practically feel that Gibson’s strings under my fingers now.
Jaxon exhales. He must be really nervous. It’s cute. “Do you have any…enemies?”
“Huh?”
I take a step backward. That is not even close to what I thought he was going to say.
“Like… someone who might hate you?” he continues.
I shrug. “I mean…I don’t think so. Why?”
He seems to struggle with what he’s about to say. “Your tire wasn’t just flat. Someone slashed it.”
I swallow. “Like… on purpose?”
“Is there any other way to slash a tire?”
I look at my car. “Maybe it was an accident?”
He snorts. “Slashing a tire is really hard, Mae. You can’t just walk up with a pocketknife and stab it. It takes a ton of force.”
I give him a weird look and he holds up his hands. “I only know because my uncle had this junkyard job and he let me slash tires one time for fun. It wasn’t as easy as it seems.”
“So you’re saying someone purposely did this to me?”
He nods. “Looks like it. But maybe they thought your car belonged to someone else.”
A lump forms in my throat. He’d asked me if anyone hates me. I’d like to think not, but…haven’t I broken up with at least five guys this school year alone? Starting with Chris, just a few hours ago?
There’s no way Chris could have done this, I think. He’s too nice. Too sweet.
But if anyone has a reason to hate me…it’d be him.
