2
Kayla
I’d spent fifteen years perfecting the art of the functional zombie. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other, and a mental checklist that kept my life from folding in on itself. But today I was fucked.
Overslept, late to pick up Gabe’s friends, and although we were well into the rush of the morning school run, my body insisted it was still the middle of the night.
“Tyler wants to know if we can stop at Starbucks.”
I clocked Gabe in the rearview mirror. The back of my car was a pressurized cabin of teenage hormones and expensive sneakers. A temporary carpool arrangement I’d agreed to in a moment of caffeinated weakness. Each of them wore only one pod, listening to God knew what, and although they spoke to each other occasionally, their eyes were glued to their phones.
“Learn how to work with an alarm, and I’ll stop anywhere you boys want, for as long as you want.”
“You’re the one who overslept,” he said with that specific brand of adolescent detachment he’d inherited from his father.
“You’re old enough not to need your mommy coming in to get you up for school.”
Tyler and Leo snorted with laughter, but my darling boy didn’t find the humor in it. Which was exactly how I hoped it would play out. I punched the radio on, if only to distract myself from the thick cloud of Hugo Boss and surliness snaking into my brain from the back seat.
"Can we not with the eighties power ballads?"
"It’s called classic rock, Gabe. It has soul." I navigated the morning crawl toward the high school, my eyes tracing the brake lights ahead. "I’m sure it’s better than whatever you three are listening to."
"A voice note from Skye," Tyler said with a sheepish smile. “She goes on these fifteen-minute rants about her little brother’s turtle. It’s cute.”
“Skye could take a dump in the middle of the street, and you’d think it was cute.”
“Language!”
“Dude, my mom’s right there.”
Gabe and I spoke at the same time, and he added a slap to the back of Leo’s head for emphasis.
“Sorry, Mrs. Jennings,” Leo said. “But I was just stating the facts. He’s so whipped, it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s Miss, and I accept your apology.” I bit back a laugh. Half of the battle was never letting them know I found them funny.
“Check this out.” Gabe held up his phone so they both could see it. The marvel that followed had me taking my eyes off the road every few seconds.
Leo had one eye on Gabe’s phone while he typed something on his own. Tyler watched too, but took occasional selfie-breaks.
"You guys are going to fry your circuits,” I said. “You can’t split your focus like that and expect to actually retain—"
The steering wheel jerked in my grip, a violent vibration shuddering through the car. We lurched hard to the right, the rhythmic slapping of ruined rubber against asphalt drowning out my lecture.
"Way to go, Mom," Gabe said, his voice dry as toast. "Maybe you shouldn't have split your focus."
I ignored him, wrestling the car onto the narrow shoulder of the busy road. I put it in park and sat there, the heels of my hands pressed against the top of the wheel. The morning air was already humid, and I felt the thin thread of my patience snapping.
"Everybody out," I said.
“We’re going to be late.”
“Gabe. Not now. Please.”
We piled out onto the sidewalk. The front passenger tire was a shredded mess of radial wire and black confetti. I popped the trunk, pushing aside a stray hockey stick and a bag of rock salt to get to the spare.
The jack was there. The tire was there. The lug wrench, however, was a no-show.
