I haven’t even had the chance to tell him everything I feel. And I haven’t been able to stop wondering what it was he wanted to say to me, back there that day at the hospital. At the time, I was raging. But there’s a growing void deepening inside me, and I don’t know how to fill it.He’s so annoying!
“Jam that for me, will you?” I ask, passing him the pliers, and he does as I ask.
For a while, we lie there together, working side by side. Grease, and oil, and fuel… I’d missed them all. But I’ve missed the smell of him even more. The craziest part is I still don’t know what it is about Lewis Conley that I like so much. It would be good to know, at least.
“Okay, Amy—that’s tight enough.”
I refocus my gaze. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts; I hadn’t been concentrating on the job. I manage a whole five seconds before turning to meet his eye. He’s staring at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask.
“Got plans for spring break?”
Why do you care?
“Just the usual, I guess—stuck here with a broken car, hanging out with my hysterical sister. How ’bout you?”
“Stuck here under a broken car, hanging out with a hysterical Amy.”
“Sounds crappy.”
“The worst.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know…”
“I don’t?” He brightens. “You mean, you already forgive me, and I’ve been wasting my life with these two losers, for nothing? Absolute disgrace, dude!”
What do I need to forgive him for, again? For not loving me? Is that it?
“I’ve been thinking,” I start slowly. “What’s the point of all this?”
He pulls a sad face. “Wait a minute… Are you dumping me again?”
“St—”
Suddenly, his hands are gripping his creeper as he slides back out from under the car, leaving me lying there alone.
Seriously?
“Hey, we’re not done here!” I call over, and I can’t tell whether I mean working or talking.
I keep my eyes trained on his boots as he circles the car and stops. A second later, he’s lying on his belly on the ground.
“Don’t worry, Firebird. I don’t plan on letting you down.”
He jumps back on his feet, but by the time I’ve wriggled out from underneath the car, he’s gone.
32AMY
I’m hanging around outside my building, waiting for my ride. For the first time ever, my driver is late. I’ve hated having the Campus Drivers hovering around every single time I step out of the house, yet here I am now, staring glumly down the back street, wondering where the hell they’re at. I guess I got used to having them around.
I’m so confused about who the real Amy Hitman is these days—before coming to Sycamore Heights and getting swept up with the Campus Drivers, I had an unshakable sense of self. Deep down, I’m still the same girl—but there are new, unexpected parts of me that are starting to shine through. Take the group chat, for instance. Lois and Carrie added me the other day, and now there’s a constant stream of 24/7 messages flooding my way—and I’m way too active on there for my liking.
“Okay,” I mutter to myself.
I check the time. Glance down at my cast. I’ve been dragging this thing around for over a month now, and I wish I could just shrug it off and hit the sidewalk. My physical therapist seems to think I’m on the right track; the muscles in my thigh are in good shape, and according to him, I should be back to kicking ass in no time. I smile to myself. Didn’t take him long to get the measure of me.
“How come you’re still here?” RJ asks as he shuffles out of the shop.
