The Drifter

“I know who he is,” said Caroline in a way that made Betsy panic in advance of the story that would surely follow. Please God, she thought, don’t tell me she got here first.

“You remember when I bought weed from him earlier this year?” she said. “At least we know he’s industrious.”

Betsy suddenly remembered the three of them driving to a house on the west side of town one night when she was fighting with Mack. She was wasted, in the back of the Rabbit listening to him yammer about Reaganomics. Ginny was driving. Caroline and Mack got out of the car and walked to the back door of a squat brown house that was nearly hidden under a canopy of drooping oak trees. Mack went inside, without looking back to say goodbye. She could hear AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted from the open windows before they’d even pulled in the gravel driveway. Through the back door, they could see that there were people inside, two guys and a couple of girls. One of them was Gavin.

“Oh shit, there are pledges in there,” said Ginny. “Caroline’s gonna eat them alive if they’re high. I’d sort of hate to miss that.”

Betsy could see straight into the house from the backseat of the car. When she noticed the pledges spot Caroline under the porch light, they both leaped off of the couch and smoothed their clothes, trying unsuccessfully to appear sober. Ginny snorted a little laugh.

“Don’t you worry, ladies,” she heard Gavin say to the girls, who were clearly scared shitless. “Caroline here can keep her mouth shut. Can’t you, Caroline?”

“I didn’t see a thing,” she said.

“Huh?” said Betsy.

“She’s letting them off the hook,” said Ginny.

“Who knew you two were such big Ice Cube fans?” Caroline asked. “I’m just going to wait outside.”

Caroline made her way back to the car, glaring at Betsy and Ginny.

“What?” she said, as she walked back to them across the gravel, silhouetted by the porch light, which was swarming with moths the size of hummingbirds. “I can’t be nice?”

A minute later, Gavin shuffled out to the car. He leaned against the driver’s door. Caroline handed him some cash and he passed her a small Ziploc filled with crumbly green buds.

“Ziploc must make a killing in this town, right?” asked Betsy.

Gavin chuckled.

“Do you ladies care to join in the fun, or are you above getting high with a couple of dim freshman girls?” he asked. Betsy was convinced that Caroline and Ginny would go inside and either force her to join or make her sleep in the car until dawn. Under normal circumstances, she knew that was when Caroline would have made her move, shocked him with her spot-on recitation of the lyrics to “Once Upon a Time in the Projects,” flirted with the roommate to make him jealous. But even this late, even from the backseat of a car after half a dozen beers, it was clear that Gavin saw straight through Caroline’s bullshit.

“Tell Mack that we’re giving Betsy a ride home, not that he seems that concerned,” said Caroline.

Betsy suspected that the truth was that Caroline noticed him long before that. He was tall, hard to miss. And she could tell that he wasn’t much like the other guys hanging around, ready to eat out of Caroline’s hand on command.

Since then, she hadn’t thought about it. But that day outside of Walmart, she realized Caroline had been watching and waiting for a second round, a decent chance to change his mind. It looked like Betsy had gotten there ahead of her this time, and she smiled to herself at the thought.

“I think he’s cute,” Ginny said. “Betsy, I just don’t know if, you know, you’re dark and mysterious enough for him.”

“Mysterious?” laughed Caroline. “If you’re looking for mystery, you’re in the wrong town.”

Inside the store, Caroline and Ginny both grabbed a shopping basket off of the stack. Betsy wandered the aisles behind Caroline, enjoying the frigid air, and watched her pluck a Baywatch-themed air freshener, Tucks medicated pads, and lip waxing strips from the shelves. When they made it to the school supply section, Caroline passed the basket to Ginny.

“I got you a few things,” she said, and picked up six or seven pieces of the biggest poster board she could find. “I’ll grab these. You get the markers.”

“Now that I’m here I can’t tell if I want markers or poster paint,” said Ginny, studying the selection of art supplies. “Betsy, what do you think?”

Betsy was already bored with the day, the yogurt drama, Caroline’s dumb pranks, and the heat. She glanced at her Timex. It was 12:40.

“Definitely markers. You won’t have time for the paint to dry. Now let’s get out of here.”

“Oh fine, you’re in a hurry to go drink beer by a lake. You know what I’m going back to. I’m taking my time.”

Caroline decided to speed up the operation considerably.

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