Page 64 of Catcher

My jaw tightens, but I drop the keys into his palm.

The drive starts tense and quiet, the early morning sun already climbing higher. About two minutes in, Catcher reaches to adjust the air conditioning and frowns when nothing happens. He twists the knob again, then again harder.

“You’re joking,” he mutters.

I shift in my seat, already knowing where this is going. “It’s broken.”

He glances at me sharply. “How long?”

“A while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A few months.”

His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “It’s already pushing ninety fuckin’ degrees out.”

“I know.”

“Why isn’t it fixed?”

His sharp tone makes me flinch before I stare out the window. “Because I don’t have the money.”

The car goes silent except for the hum of the engine and the open windows, dragging hot air inside.

Catcher’s jaw works slowly. “You’re driving around in Louisiana heat with no AC?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“It didn’t seem relevant,” I say defensively.

His laugh is humorless. “Everything you just told me says otherwise.”

I cross my arms. “I get by. I’ve always gotten by.”

“Barely,” he says. “And you shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t need rescuing.”

He shoots me a look that says he doesn’t believe that for a second. “You need backup.”

I don’t respond. It’s a bratty move, but I don’t care. Seconds later, I spot my parents’ house up ahead, with yellow siding, a wide porch, and rose bushes lining the front, and my stomach knots.

“Catcher,” I say quickly. “You can just drop me off.”

“No.”

“I’m serious. They don’t even know who you are.”

“They’re about to.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Seriously, I can’t deal with this right now. They don’t know about Robby. They are going to question why you are with me. What do I say?”