twenty-eight
Rubbernecker:< > 1" fi> a person who
slows their vehicle down to look
at a wreck they’re driving past
Hanging out on my front porch after a great day at the office. Flip-flopping it. Playing guitar. My kind of late afternoon.
My cell dings. I check the message. It’s Grace. I feel kind of bad. We haven’t really hung out since we argued about Brianna. And I haven’t been blowing her off on purpose. Just kind of got caught up hanging out with Brianna. And then the guys had an epic poker tournament. After that much time with Little Hien, I feel like I could host MTV Cribs or something.
Can we talk?
Wow. I wonder what made her make the first move.
Yeah. Where?
Your place?
C’mon over.
See you soon.
It’s so funny, Grace’s text. Even her text speak is proper. Brianna would have written CU soon. And added a smiley face. Because she’s cute like that.
Grace can be all business. She can be a lot of fun, too. Not surfing with Grace the past week was weird. Things haven’t felt right. Like the world isn’t spinning on the right axis. I heard she surfed all week with Damien. He’s such a butt-munch.
Grace speeds into the driveway, parks her bike, and bounds up the steps with the biggest smile I’ve seen on her face in weeks.
I strum a chord. “Hey, Mamacita.” I set the guitar down and give her a big hug. Strangely self-conscious, I say, “Um, I need to snag a shirt.” I head into the house with Grace trailing behind, grab a shirt off the top of the laundry basket, and yank it on, enjoying this Grace. “You’re in a hella good mood. What’s up?”
She squeals, “I surfed the Point!”
I frown. “What?”
She squeals again. “Yeah. I surfed the Point!” Then she twirls around. “And I lived to tell.”
That’s crazy. “What the hell? You went without me?”
She jerks to a stop. “What do you mean?”
“Excuse me, but last time we surfed there, you almost died.”
She glares daggers. “Wow. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I thought we had a thing. I’m supposed to be your coach. Who watched out for you?”
She cocks her head, places her hand on her hips. “Newsflash—last time I checked, a coach goes with you to the beach. Some coach you’ve been. Since you’ve been MIA, Damien’s surfed with me. The comp is this week. What did you expect? Besides, I needed to go back there. Face my fears and all.”
She’s right. Sort of. But Damien? He’s a dillweed. Stab me in the heart. “Oh, so Damien took care of you like I would have, huh? Besides, the only reason I haven’t taken you there is because your dad specifically told me not to—”
“Well, Damien took care of me. It’s fine.”
Something about the way she said that really sets me off. “Oh, yeah, I bet he did. Did he watch out for you? Make sure you were safe?”
Grace narrows her eyes. “Oh. Like you, that day at the Point?”
Wow. Going in for the kill. “What are you talking about?”
She says, “Oh, wait, maybe I’m confused. I thought Kahuna Pete pulled me out. Where were you? Oh, wait, that’s right, you showed up right afterward to ‘claim’ me as your girl.”
Air quotes are the last straw. I say, “I can’t believe you went there. Is that what you think of me?” Palm to the face. “I’ve been reduced to a cheap cliché. You say we’re friends, but you sure as hell don’t act like it. See ya. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” I look up to watch her go. Like a rubbernecker on the highway. We’re a freaking train wreck.
She scowls, her eyes narrowed and forehead scrunched up.
I scowl back, but then I waver. I shove my hands in my pockets.
She says, “Fine. I’m outtie,” and heads toward the door.
I run after her, like the idiot I can’t help being. “Grace, wait.”
She throws a hand up in the air and doesn’t even look at me. She huffs out of the houses and marches toward her bike. This is crazy. “Please,” I say.
And she keeps walking. Away. From me.
And me? I trail after like a stray dog wanting a home. “C’mon, Grace. At least let me give you a ride.”
Nothing. A shove of her flip-flop on a pedal and she’s off. Gone.
I’m not letting her do this to me. Treat me like a cheap throw-away. I yell after her, “Oh yeah? If you’re gonna act like a cold-hearted B, then good luck at the comp. You’re on your own.”