“Music saved me,” he says.
My hand, clutching the strap of my backpack, trembles a little. “What?”
“After Aubrey died. I know it sounds corny or trite or whatever, but music was all I had left. That and working on the farm . . . it kept me going. And then I started hanging around with Hunter and joined the band and . . .” He lets go of my arm but doesn’t break our gaze, doesn’t even blink. “It saved me.”
I nod, but only because it’s clearly important to him that I understand what he’s saying.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. He doesn’t stop me this time as I swing open the door and step into the rain.
ten
Sophomore Year
AUBREY WAS A NEW YEAR’S BABY, THE FIRST BIRTH of the year in our hospital. The honor came with gift certificates from local businesses and even a blurb in the newspaper. When she told me about it, a month or so after we met, I wasn’t at all surprised. Right from birth, Aubrey had been destined to go first, at least when it came to our friendship. She got her period before I did, even though I’d developed earlier. She was the first to get a babysitting job and wear makeup and go on an overnight school trip. She was the first to start dating and the first to be kissed for real. But most aggravating of all, she was the first to turn sixteen and become eligible for the most coveted rite of passage of all—the driver’s license.
We spent the last half of Christmas break studying for the written test. Well, Aubrey studied, and Ethan and I quizzed her. My sixteenth birthday was still six months away, and Ethan’s wasn’t for well over a year, but some early cramming wouldn’t hurt either of us. I couldn’t wait to learn to drive. Aubrey, on the other hand, was weirdly freaked out about it.
“Tell me again how many feet from a fire hydrant,” she said as we trudged down her icy driveway on Wednesday morning, the day after her birthday.
“Fifteen,” Ethan and I chorused. We glanced at each other and exchanged a smile.
“Right. I keep getting that and the stop sign distance confused. What the hell is wrong with me today?”
The question sounded rhetorical, so I kept my mouth shut and climbed into the backseat of her mom’s car. Aubrey had persuaded Ethan and me to come along with her to the DMV for moral support, even though it was our last day of break before school started up again and we would’ve much preferred lazing around the house all day. But we agreed to go because Aubrey clearly needed the support. We were only about two minutes into the drive to town when I realized she wasn’t going to get any from her mother.
“Most of the questions will be common sense,” Mrs. McCrae said in the only tone I ever heard her use with her kids—terse with a hint of condescension. “If you studied properly, there’s no reason you can’t get everything right. I mean, look at all the idiots on the road. If they can manage to get a driver’s license, anyone can. So, no excuses, okay?”
Aubrey nodded and turned to gaze out the passenger-side window. I was sitting behind the driver’s seat, so I had a clear view of her left side. Her arm was bent and moving, and I knew she was anxiously braiding her hair. She wasn’t all that nervous about the test itself, I realized. At school, she rocked every test she took. But at school, her mother wasn’t waiting for her right outside the classroom, silently judging and eager to pounce.
“You’d better get over your nerves fast,” Mrs. McCrae continued to lecture as we turned into the DMV parking lot. “I can’t take off work again if you have to write this test a second time and neither can your father. This is it, so focus.”
Aubrey nodded again, her throat moving as she swallowed. Beside me, I heard Ethan let out a quiet sigh. When I glanced at him, he was staring out the side window too. A lot of scenery watching took place when Aubrey and Ethan were trapped in a car with one or both of their parents.
Inside, Aubrey stood in line to get her test sheets while Ethan, his mother, and I found seats in the waiting area. Mrs. McCrae sat down first and immediately pulled out her phone. Ethan and I headed for the two empty chairs across from her, facing the testing area. As I sat down, I caught Aubrey’s eye and mouthed, You got this. She smiled thinly back at me. Her face looked pale, and her hair fell in frizzy waves from being handled and twisted so much.
“Sit up straight, Ethan.” His mom paused in her texting or whatever she was doing on her phone to peer at him. “You’re in public, not at home on the sofa.”
Ethan slowly pulled his long legs out of the aisle and then slid up on his seat until he was no longer slouching. Satisfied, his mother turned her attention back to her phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan cross his arms and then promptly uncross them, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his limbs. I didn’t blame him. His mother made me feel self-conscious too.
My gaze found Aubrey again. She’d gotten her test and was heading toward one of the carrel desks lined up along the wall. If she was this freaked out during the written test, I hated to imagine what she’d be like during the actual driving part. She’d have to be sedated, which would result in a fail for sure.
“What is wrong with her?” Ethan muttered under his breath. “She looks like she has to go to the bathroom.”
We both watched as Aubrey squirmed in her chair, her legs pressed together.
“She’s nervous,” I whispered back. “I don’t think we’re helping.”
For a moment, I wondered if she wished Justin was there for moral support instead of us. Not with her mother around, of course, since she still didn’t know he existed; but hypothetically, would she rather have Justin in the waiting room? He was the one who made her laugh now, who urged her out of her comfort zone. Lately, they were tighter than ever. He’d stopped riding her so much about her busy schedule, and he’d seemed to accept the whole secretly-dating-behind-the-parents’-backs thing. I liked to think our chat in the tree house a few weeks ago had something to do with his change in attitude, but maybe he just realized his girlfriend was worth the hassle.
A few minutes later, Aubrey hit her stride and stopped acting like she needed to pee. Reassured, I settled back into my hard plastic chair and dug my phone out of my coat. I’d missed two texts—one from my mother, and one from Justin.
How’s she doing?
Usually, Justin only texted me when he couldn’t get ahold of Aubrey and wanted to know if she was with me. This text was about Aubrey too, but it felt different, somehow. Like the beginning of a conversation. Or maybe I was reading too much into it. Fine, I typed back. I think she’s almost done.
Is Ice Queen there?
I stifled a giggle. Ice Queen was his nickname for Aubrey’s mother. Pretty astute for someone who’d never even met her. Yep, I replied. Frosty as ever.
Try not to look directly at her. She might turn you into an icicle.