It was cold.

Too damn cold.

How he loathed that bus stop. Why, oh why, was the bus driver a man? Carlos would have had no problem getting a female bus driver to pull into his neighborhood at least a block. But no. He was stuck with the fat, heterosexual man bus driver who dropped him off at the front of his neighborhood, which mean he had to climb up hill.

In the too damn cold.

The source of his problems was where a percentage of a teenaged boys problem started-- his car. It wouldn't start this morning. So, while this was fine and he could finaggle a ride from Arnold that morning, in the afternoon, he was stuck.

Arnold was tutoring a Freshman in Geometry, Phoebe had band practice. Keesha and Wanda were doing drama practice for the school play, The Crucible, while Ralphie was running drills in the gym with one of the sports teams he was on. Tim didn't have a car, either, (He walked to school, about three blocks. He was not envied.)

Oh, Dorothy Ann? ...Well. They were having a bit of a spat. Carlos had been caught flirting with one of the girls in his History class, and DA was not letting him off the hook so early. Considering how that was three days ago, she should be cooling down by now, though. Right?

Wrong.

She laughed at him when he asked for a ride home.

Laughed! Oh, that had stung.

So now he was still trudging, shuffing, swearing and slipping up and down that god damn, too damn cold hill. He keeps sliding back down inch by inch, irritably clawing his way up to only slide back down. Up half way, down half way. Take a step forward, take two steps back.

Now, this was what you called annoying.

"Okay, Carlos. Running start," he mumbled to himself behind his green and yellow scarf. Backing up a little, he started off a decent pace and was actually scrambling up farther up that damn hill than he had before when--

HONNNNNNNNNNNK

A horn blared from behind him. He lost his footing and slid back down, swearing and cussing and holding back those angry, dry eye induced tears. Turning around to see the car and give the driver a hearty middle finger, he was shocked by who was at the wheel.

Dorothy Ann, clutching the steering wheel and laughing her ass off. After wiping her eyes, she waved for him to get in the ancient, cherry red pick up truck. It had show chains on the tires and the exhaust fumes could probably kill a man. He pulled open the door with a little difficulty, ice had formed over the cracks in the doors, and eventually pulled himself into the huge cab.

DA, perfectionist as she may be, had a horribly messy truck interior. There were textbooks, spare clothes, and little bits of trash strewn all over the place. Of course, he had always suspected she might have done all her homework in here. It was usually warm and cozy.

But she rarely gave anyone rides. Her truck could really only legally fit three people, which was usually her, her sister, and either Phoebe or himself. He guessed it was because she didn't want people to see how messy she was. Or that gas was expensive.

Combination of the two, maybe?

Dorothy Ann was still giggling when she switched the gears, the old truck roaring to life and then settling to a low rumble. She finished laughing, though, when they got up the hill, and seemed like business. "Carlos."

"... Uhm. Yes?" He said, nervously. He took off his scarf. It was too hot for it, and it could be used for strangling.

She sighed, "Why didn't you just apologize? You made excuses." She seemed geniunely hurt by this, eyes straight on the road.

"I... I don't know." He admitted.

"Next time, I want you to say sorry. We've been dating for half a year, Carlos. You should know this."

He coughed. "... Okay, DA. ... Sweetie. Love. I'm sorry. I love you."

She couldn't help but smile at his pathetic use of petnames. "I love you too."

They sat in an enjoyable silence, the hum of the engiene, crunch of ice on the ground and the fuzz from the broken radio giving them more than enough sound.

"Hey. DA?" He said finally as they neared his house.

"Hm?"

"How did you know I needed a ride?" He asked, slightly nervously. Did she plant a homing chip on him or something?

"I just know these things." She said, smiling, pulling up to his house. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. See you." He said, hopping out, and slamming the door.

She would never tell him that she had called his house and his mom said that he hadn't made it home yet.

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