“I don’t know,” he said, leaning back against the car. “He’s been a prick for the last few weeks.”
“I see.” I couldn’t tell if Cole seriously didn’t understand why his brother was mad, or if something else was going on. “So are you going to talk to him?”
“I already did, but he never listens,” he said as he wrung the dirty cloth in his hands. “Whatever. If he wants to be ignorant, that’s his choice.” Cole crumpled the rag into a ball and tossed it on the workbench. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” I said, even though I was dying to know more.
“All right. Well, now that you’re out here, I might as well show you my baby.”
“Huh?”
Cole pulled back the passenger side door for me. “Get in.”
“Is it clean?” I asked, squinting inside. There wasn’t much light in the garage to begin with, and the lights in the car didn’t turn on when Cole opened the door.
“I vacuumed the seats,” he said, making his way around the front of the car. “Just get in.”
Ducking down, I carefully settled in. Cole yanked his door shut, and I followed suit, sealing us in the musty cabin.
“So this is your baby?”
“It’s a 1987 Buick Grand National,” he said, running both hands over the steering wheel. “Used to be my grandpa’s.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but the car was a bit of a clunker.
“This is a classic car.”
“It doesn’t look like much.”
“Well, it is. And when I finish restoring it, it’s going to run like a dream,” he said, sweeping his hand out in front of him as he imagined his car.
“So that’s what you’re doing? Fixing it up?”
“I’m trying to, but it’s expensive,” Cole said, his hand dropping back to his side. “That’s why I work at Tony’s. He pays me with the parts I need.”
“When did you learn to fix cars?” I didn’t mean to grill him, but this was the first conversation I’d had with Cole where he actually seemed passionate about something.
“I’ve taken a lot of shop classes in school, but it’s always just come naturally to me,” Cole explained.
“How long have you been working on it?”
“On and off since the start of high school.” He paused and then added, “But I’ve really made it a priority since last year.” Cole pressed his lips together, and his eyes turned dark cobalt as he stared out the windshield.
I took that as a sign not to push any further. “Cool,” I said instead.
He was obviously thinking about something, because then he shook his thoughts away. “I’m sorry, Jackie,” he said. “I don’t mean to kick you out, but I really wanted to take another crack at the engine before dinner.”
At first, I didn’t understand what he was saying, but then I realized he wanted me to leave. I must have said something wrong. “Oh, okay.” I fumbled in the dark to find the handle, and as I did, my face turned red. When my fingers finally found the smooth metal, I yanked it open as quickly as I could and stepped out.
“See you later,” he said, but he wasn’t even looking at me. His gaze was still focused out the window.
“Yeah, bye.”
I hurried out of Cole’s garage, but when I got to the front porch, I glanced back over my shoulder. It was hard to spot him in the shadows, but the mop of blond hair gave him away. He was still sitting in the front seat—he hadn’t moved at all.
Chapter 8
“Cole, catch,” said Isaac, throwing the car keys to his cousin as we all trudged down the porch steps. It was Monday morning, and we were all moving slowly, not looking forward to school.
“You drive,” Cole said, tossing the keys back to Isaac. “I have my own ride.”
“What?” Alex demanded, and we all looked up at Cole. He smirked as a slick, black Porsche turned into the driveway. Everyone stared as the car pulled up, finally sliding to a stop in front of him.
“It’s getting a bit cramped in the truck, don’t you think?” Cole asked.
The window rolled down, and I recognized one of the boys who sat with Cole at lunch. “Hey, Walter,” he said, looking annoyed. “You coming or not? We’re going to be late.”
“Dude, chill. We have plenty of time,” Cole answered, jogging around the side of the car. He opened the door, leaned down, and said something to his friend that I couldn’t hear. “Hey, Jackie,” he said, glancing back up. “Want a ride too? You don’t have to go with the losers if you don’t want.” He offered me one of his cocky grins and opened the back door as if he expected I was going to say yes.