After school, I wait for Trystan, but he doesn’t show up. Then I notice his car pulling out of the parking lot. I run to catch up with it before he drives away.
“Trystan, stop!” I yell.
He stops the car, and I get in.
“You were just going to leave without me?”
“You weren’t here.”
“I was waiting outside the school for you.”
“And I was waiting in the car.”
“Why didn’t you text me and tell me that?”
He answers by turning his music up.
When we get home, I hurry to get out of the car, wanting to get away from him. He’s so moody. One minute he’s nice and the next he’s a total ass.
He races in front of me into the house, not even leaving the door open for me. As I walk in, Brock comes up to me.
“The Driver’s Ed school you contacted just called,” he says. “They said they could fit you in for a lesson today if you’re able to make it.”
“How am I supposed to get there?”
“Trystan could take you.”
“He won’t. He’s in one of his moods. He almost left school without me.”
“Trystan!” Brock yells as we catch a glimpse of Trystan on his way to the kitchen.
“I’m not taking her!” he yells. “Chad’s on his way over.”
Brock sighs. “I’d take you myself but I’m waiting for a very important call.”
“I can take her.” Shayla walks toward us, holding a pile of clothes. “I’m just getting the dry cleaning and then I’m heading out. I can give her a ride.”
“That’d be great!” I say, thinking it’ll give me a few minutes to talk to Shayla. I really wish we could hang out more. I like her.
Brock’s rubbing his hand over his jaw, like he’s contemplating whether he should allow this. Like just being seen with her could ruin my reputation.
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Could you pick her up as well?” he asks, handing Shayla two twenty-dollar bills.
“Oh, you don’t have to pay me. I go right by the place on my way to the dry cleaner.”
“Take the money. This is a job,” he says, making it clear this isn’t a social outing. She’s just the help, paid to take me somewhere. “Can you pick her up when she’s done?”
“Yes, Mr. Halliway.” She stuffs the money in her pocket and turns to me. “Ready to go?”
“I just need to drop my backpack in my room. I’ll be right back.”
When I’m in my room, I consider changing clothes but don’t, knowing Shayla is waiting for me. I hurry back to the front door. Brock is gone, but Shayla is there, a huge smile on her face.
“What’s with you?” I say, smiling back.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
I follow her out to her car.
