“Um, I have some homework.” She gives me a disbelieving look. “Because of the festival,” I explain. “I have to do it today.”
“Oh, right.” Her smile slides back into place. “Can you spare like, an hour or two? I thought we could get a head start on talking to restaurants?”
I check my phone. “It’s only eleven,” I say out loud, so she won’t think I was looking for texts. “Yeah, I could probably do that.”
She lets me drive, and I let her do the talking, both in and out of the car. She asks how a hybrid works (I don’t know) and if I’m going to play soccer again this year (yes) and if I’m still in choir (no). “I’ve never been to Music on the Mulberry,” she says, after she’s sweet-talked a Mexican place into donating chips and dip. “Is it all day?”
I start the ignition, almost whacking her with my hand when I turn to reverse. Mindy always looks like she swallowed a broom handle, with her chest well out in front of her, and my gaze flits for a millisecond to her V-neck shirt before I snap my eyes away. I’m not complaining, but I am aware that we’re alone in my car, and I don’t want to creep her out or anything. “Yeah, it starts at eleven,” I tell her. “Bands play until two in the morning sometimes.”
“It sounds really fun.” She lets me pull on to the main road undistracted, then clears her throat. “Who’s playing?”
“I don’t even know,” I admit. “It’s just a tradition, so we go.”
“Have you ever seen Suddenly, Spiders? They play all-ages shows downtown a lot.”
I try not to make a face. “Yeah, but once was enough.” Realizing how jerky that sounded, I add, “They’re not as bad as those sophomores that played at the talent show last year, though.”
“Nothing could be that bad,” she says. “Except…” She laughs and puts her hand over her mouth.
“You can’t not tell me,” I say, stopping at a red light. “Come on.”
“Trent.” She lets a giggle escape. “He has a band.”
“Trenton Alexander Montgomery the Third?” I can’t imagine Trent in a band. He’s even taller and skinnier than me, with a long neck and a chin that juts forward. Combined with his slicked-back hair, he looks like he’s constantly walking into a stiff wind. “What does he play?”
“The drums.”
“He must look like a Muppet on stage.”
She giggles again. “He does look a lot like Animal.”
I grin. “Please tell me they’re The Electric Mayhem.”
“No,” she says, play-slapping my arm. “They’re TAM3.”
“That’s even worse than ‘Suddenly, Spiders.’”
“Still not as bad as his music though.” It’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard her say. She reaches into her giant purse and pulls out her phone. “He sent me one of their ‘tracks’ last year to like, audition for prom.” Her eyes roll up, as if God will share her disbelief. “You want to hear it?”
“I’m not sure.”
She scrolls through. “Oh, this thing’s nearly dead anyway.”
“My charger’s in the glove box.” She opens it and Raychel’s emergency supplies tumble out onto the floor. “Crap, sorry, I should have warned you.”
Mindy picks a brochure off the top of the pile. “Thinking about Duke?”
“My dad is.” He’s bound and determined that I’ll attend his alma mater. I try to intercept any promotional mail he might use as an excuse to lecture me.
“What’s all this?” she asks, trying to put the other junk away.
Toilet paper, sunglasses, tampons, sunscreen, hair ties … a condom, which was funny at the time. “It’s for hiking and stuff. We always get way out in the boonies and then Raychel realizes she forgot something.”
“Oh,” Mindy says, and closes the glove box without retrieving the charger. “Of course.”
I decide not to point out the tampon still lying beside her foot.
RAYCHEL
For once, Matt doesn’t say “I told you so.” “Fired?” he repeats incredulously when I call Sunday morning to tell him I can’t go to Music on the Mulberry. “Because you were late?”
“Yeah.”
“You should still come,” he tells me. “It’s only fifteen bucks. I’ll spot you.”
“I have the cash,” I argue. “But I should save it. And I need to apply for new jobs ASAP.”
“Come on,” Matt says. “It’s Sunday. Andrew’s going to meet us there with his friends.” When I don’t answer, he sighs. “I went to the toga party for you.”
“Fine,” I say grudgingly. “I’ll go.”
*
Mom gives me a ride to the Richardsons’. “Thanks,” I say, hopping out of our rust bucket of a car.
“Call me when you head home—I have plans this evening.”
I duck back through the window. “With the boyfriend?”
Mom smiles, but doesn’t offer more information. I don’t press. I’m sure I’ll meet him soon. I met the few others that lasted this long.
Inside, Dr. R. examines my ankle and gives me permission to leave the crutches behind. Matt and I spend the long drive to the Mulberry brainstorming jobs I might apply for. It’s nice that Matt wants to help, but he doesn’t know anything about working. He can afford to spend his time volunteering instead. I try to tell myself that working and volunteering count the same on college applications, but I doubt that “ran a cash register” and “helped the homeless” carry the same weight.
At the festival, Matt pays for parking and insists on getting our tickets while I unload our stuff, so I sneak the cash for my share into his glove box when I lock up. “Sucks,” he says when he rejoins me, pointing at the overcast sky.
“Yeah, bummer.” I’m actually glad. Last year I got so sunburned I couldn’t lift my arms for two days. It was worth it, though.
Matt and I take our traditional spot along the river, but without our usual crew, our spread of blankets and lawn chairs is pathetically small. He must be thinking the same thing. “I don’t know how to do concerts without The Nuge for inspiration,” he says. We call our friend Randy “The Nuge” because he looks just like a young Ted Nugent—seventies rock star Nugent, not scary racist libertarian Nugent. He’s skinny but cut, with bushy auburn hair, and he plays a mean air guitar.
“I know,” I say. “And no flailing.” Daniel Fischer is an enthusiastic, if less than skilled, dancer. But Bree and Stanton and Asha are awesome, and even Matt and Andrew are pretty good (“for a couple of white boys,” Spencer says). And Nathan is great when his girlfriend Eliza will let him have fun, but that’s rare. I hope she’s lightened up since they went to college together in Texas.