“Stop!” I yell.
With a loud squeal of brakes, Lysa slams the car to a halt right in the middle of the street, sending Spam and me forward against our seat belts. She whips her head right and left, looking for something that’s about to hit us. When she sees nothing, she turns to glare at me. “What?”
“Oh, um. We’re here.” I hardly need to point out the donut shop on the corner, since the smell of old grease hangs heavy in the morning air. A little unsure of me and the neighborhood, Lysa eases the car into the parking lot, but hesitates to pull into a space. “Why are we stopping here again?” she asks.
“Just park and let me out. I’ll get our coffees.”
Lysa parks, but neither she nor Spam hurry to open the doors. They both turn toward me in the backseat.
“What’s going on?” Spam asks.
“Yeah, why did you make me bring you all the way out here?” Lysa asks.
I don’t answer.
At first, Journey looks a little confused as he walks toward Lysa’s car. But once he’s sure it really is me, his smile beams as brightly as the sun coming out from behind clouds. He strides toward us. “Hey guys.”
My plan should be pretty obvious from this point on. Journey’s van was towed to the police impound lot last night, along with my munched scooter, so I texted him last night that we’d give him a ride to school.
He texted back that this was a good place to meet.
I should hide my extreme euphoria at hearing his voice, but I can’t. “Hey guys. Look, it’s Journey.” I flash him my most inviting smile. “Need a ride? Hop in.”
Lysa turns around in her seat. “Why didn’t you just tell us you wanted to pick him up?”
“I was afraid you’d say no,” I say.
“That’s right, because Rachel doesn’t want you around him,” Spam says.
“What are you, my parent?”
Lysa shrugs. “I’m not supposed to be around him, either.”
I rise out of my seat and throw one leg over, ready to climb out of the car. “Fine. I’ll ride the bus with him.”
Journey stands by the car, his gaze shifting back and forth between our faces. He’s a little baffled. “What’s going on?”
Spam and I glare at each other for a long minute. I shift my weight toward the outside of the car. She snaps the door handle, opening her door and getting out. Pulling her seat forward, she gestures Journey toward the backseat. “Get in.”
“Erin?” he asks.
“It’s okay. Come on.” I bring my leg back inside.
He climbs into the back and slides over to sit behind Lysa.
“Who wants coffee?” I ask.
Lysa waves her hand in the air. “I’m good.”
Spam sinks back into her seat. “Me, too,” she says, buckling her seat belt.
“Okay. On to school, I guess.” I slide down in my seat and buckle in. Journey watches me with a puzzled look. “What?” I smile. “We’re a team now.”
“You better hope my dad isn’t monitoring my GPS this morning,” Lysa says as she guides the car out of the parking lot and drives toward school. “Or I will be seriously grounded.”
Journey snakes his hand across the seat and pats my hand. I pat his hand in reply, but when I sense Spam eyeing me over her shoulder, I move my hand and replace it with my messenger bag.
“You’re not supposed to see me anymore?” he whispers.
“Don’t worry. Rachel’s just a little freaked out about the whole van-munching-Vespy thing.”
Spam turns in her seat. “Maybe she has a reason to be freaked out.”
“How can you say that?” I’m feeling attacked from every side.
“Because every time something bad happens, he’s there, too.” Spam crosses her arms over her chest.
“Don’t get all Judge Judy. Journey saved my life. And besides, we agreed we’re a team.”
“How are we a team when you promised Rachel you wouldn’t see him outside of school?”
My finger comes up, right in her face. “I didn’t promise her that … you did.”
Journey puts his arm up between Spam and me. “Hey, whoa. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
I sit back and gaze at the business neighborhood whizzing past; we’re a couple of blocks from school. “We need a homework session … tonight, my house. Six o’clock, okay?”
“Are you including him?” Spam asks.
“Of course I’m including him.”
Spam starts to open her mouth to argue, but I read her mind.
“Rachel’s covering three to midnight again tonight. She won’t be home.”
Lysa pulls into a parking space at school and there’s complete silence in the car.
Journey speaks first. “I’ll be there.”
“Me, too,” adds Lysa.
Spam is quiet for a long minute. “Fine,” she says.
We get out of the car, slam the doors, and each head toward class separately.