Chapter 18
February 14, 2004
"But what if I fail?"
"You won't."
"But if I do?"
"It's ten bucks to take the test again. You won't fail. Besides, you've been studying that damn book for like six months, I'm pretty sure you could write it out verbatim with your eyes closed."
I sighed and sank down on the uncomfortable bench.
"Yeah but what if? What if all of my memories have been screwed up by nerves and I answered every question wrong?"
"Ugh, you are unbelievable. Look, you studied, you practiced with the example tests, and you do nothing but criticize my driving every time we go out in the car. You are absolutely unbearable as a passenger, I guarantee you won't fail."
I paused my sarcastic theatre for a second, hand on my forehead.
"... but what if-"
"Oh my god, Weiss, shut up. You've been at me for twenty minutes. It takes a while to grade the tests because it's entered by hand. You'll pass, you'll get your damn license, and you'll shut the hell up about it, okay?"
I shrunk into my jacket.
"Okay, Winter."
"Excellent. I work in public records, believe me I know how long it takes to do this kind of manual data entry, especially on a Saturday. Besides, have you seen how disgruntled most DMV employees are most of the time? You're 'inconveniencing' them on their Saturday, so they're gonna take their sweet time grading your test."
"Oh. Well that's rude."
"From what I have seen at work, that's what these people pride themselves on. Who can be the rudest. And so far, I'm banking on the large round one who took your information initially."
I nodded and crossed my arms.
"Yeah, she was distasteful."
"And she smelled like medium-rare horse."
I snorted into my fist.
"Yeah, but all DMV employees are like that, aren't they?"
My sister sipped at her travel mug.
"All the ones I've ever met do, you're right. And believe me, they're all just as miserable and crotchety, too. You learn to deal with it."
"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever work in public affairs. I my bullshit-o-meter would break from the stress."
"And you think mine is still functional? Weiss, please, my bullshit-o-meter hasn't worked in years. In fact, I think if it was working, it would be pegged in the red right now over how long it's taking to grade your stupid test! How many other people were in there with you?"
I shrugged.
"Like, three. And one of them was finished before I even sat down."
"Yeah, this is ridiculous. I've been doing data entry for like, only two years but I bet I could do this with my eyes closed. There's no way it's acceptable for this to be taking so long."
I scratched an itchy spot on my nose for a second and leaned back against the wall, trying to emulate the way Winter sat with one leg draped perfectly over the other. It was hard to do in jeans, I'll be honest. My sister's much more casual workout attire seemed a lot more elastic than my navy blue tight-fitting thigh-constrictors.
"What do you actually do at your job?"
"Hmm?" She looked at me with the one eye that wasn't hidden by fringe.
"You always complain about working too much but you never told me what you do beyond 'I work for the government'."
"Well, that's really all I do, I'm a data analyst for Environment Canada. I look at spreadsheets all day and compare them to other spreadsheets about weather and air quality and stuff like that. It is the most boring job in the world, but at least it's not waitressing."
"You didn't like being a waitress, didn't you?"
"I fuckin' hated it. Now I get a desk and an office and a brand new Intel Pentium 4. Currently the best computer in my building, and it's all mine."
I gawked.
"Scheiße, How'd you sling that?"
"I managed to convince them that my G3 was too slow."
"How?"
"By typing faster than the little Apple processor could respond. It got to the point where I called my supervisor in, had him watch me type out a paragraph of text, then I stopped and crossed my arms while the screen finished displaying what I had done at its own pace."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah, so, I broke up with Steve, and now I'm with Bill. He understands my needs."
"Jesus, Winter."
"I'm telling ya, I stand behind my Intel now. Nothing will ever beat two full gigs of RAM, never in my lifetime, I promise."
I choked on my tongue.
"Holy cow, two gigs?! That's more power than anyone should reasonably wield on a desktop device. What are you doing, animating with it?!"
"Nope. Juuuust spreadsheets and Word documents."
"Damn." I stretched the word over a few syllables. "Lucky you, eh?"
"And maybe a little bit of entitlement. Sometimes I think the girl in IT likes me. I know that every guy in IT does, because obviously my vanity shows from time to time."
I shrugged.
"Who knew you could get cool computer equipment just by being pretty."
Winter chuckled and elbowed me gently in the shoulder. "Aw, thanks, Weiss. You're a sweetheart."
We were interrupted by the frumpy woman behind the desk.
"Uh… Shy-Knee? Weess… Shy-Knee? Please step up to the desk."
I turned to the woman at the desk and frowned, before turning back to my sister.
"Well, on the basis that very few people might have a name that could be misconstrued as such, and would further be unlikely to be at a ServiceOntario facility on a Saturday morning, I will reasonably assume that she's calling… for me?"
"Excellent solve, detective. Go on, then."
I shivered and stood up, brushing off my pants.
"Well, here 'goes, I guess. Let's see how badly I failed."
"Oh, you're impossible. Go up to the desk."
With a light shove to my butt, I was directed towards the woman behind the service desk. I was nervous. But, so is everyone who is unsure of the results of a test, of any kind. I mean, I'm nervous if I'm getting back routine eye tests, even though I know my vision is a fixed one-and-a-half in each eye, and never changed my whole life. So, a driving test is a little higher on my nervousness priority list, and my fear was fully justified, and I stand by that. And today, on my sixteenth birthday, standing before the woman who held in her hands a pass or fail test result on the most important single test I have ever taken, I was nervous.
I've wanted to drive since the day I was cognizant. It didn't help that the car I grew up getting driven around in was in my opinion the single coolest automobile ever to roll of the production line in Detroit in nineteen seventy-three. The big Pontiac had always secretly been my dream car, ever since my sister had started restoring it to its original chrome-appointed glory. She had even re-painted to to its original Regality Blue colour, covered in several copious layers of clear coat to give it a show-room quality finish. When our father had bought it in ninety-four, it had been a wreck, really. Faded black paint, mismatched hubcaps off a Cadillac, seven of its eight cylinders actually firing, big plumes of blow-by exiting out around the car basically any time it moved. In fact, I remember one of the hardest and most expensive repairs I ever helped her with was getting the car's original and problematic Glide-Away electric rear glass and tailgate functioning again, since when we got the car it was all broken.
I loved the big station wagon. It was as much a part of my family as my own siblings. And god dammit I wanted to drive it. That's what my life had been leading up to at this point, and I wasn't going to squander it here!
"Are you Weess?" the desk clerk asked.
"Uh, it's Why-ss, but yes."
The woman slid over a large manila envelope.
"Here ya go." her voice was accented like that of a malignant tumour. "You passed. One hundred percent. Here's your licence."
My heart did about eighteen flips inside my chest, ping-ponging off the inside of my ribcage as if it had been ripped from its aorta and vena cava and laced with dynamite.
"I… I passed?"
The desk employee went back to her paperwork, regarding me only automatically.
"Yes."
"I… I can drive now…"
"Mmm. Ya free to go."
Clearly I wasn't wanted by the desk employee. But that's okay, I didn't want her either. I stumbled backward and turned around, hobbling back to the bench where my sister sat with a patient look on her face. I did my best to hide my glee as I saddled back up on the low bench next to her, my coat scrunching up under my butt. Winter leaned around my face and peered at the envelope.
"So, how'd you do?"
I struggled for words.
"Poorly."
Winter sighed.
"Oh. Well, that's a shame, I gues-"
"A hundred measly percent."
"Okay, listen here, you."
She grabbed me around the neck in the crook of her arm and drove her rugby knuckles into my noggin and messed up my hair something fierce. Normally, I wouldn't be able to get free since Winter was much bigger and much stronger than I. However today was also one of those times, and I was still at her mercy, no matter how hard I struggled.
"Wmmm!" I couldn't speak on account of her forearm in my mouth. "Wmmm!"
The envelope was requisitioned from my grasp, and opened. She pulled out my license card from the bottom and held it up to the light, eyeing it favourably.
"Wow, G-One. I'm damn proud of you kiddo."
I was released.
"Gaahhh."
"I knew you'd pass, didn't I? Didn't I say that to your dramatic ass?"
I finally let my grin beam.
"Yeah."
"You know what this means, right?"
"What?"
She shrugged.
"I never have to drive again, so long as you are living under my roof."
My face went white.
"What?"
"This little plastic card here means I don't have to drive because I have a recently-graduated chauffeur."
"But-"
"-Is the thing I'm gonna be sittin' on from here on out, while you drive me around."
I flushed.
"Oh."
Winter stood up and let my neck go, kicking her heels on the tile floor and holding my license out to me. I followed her up and took it, finally having a moment to actually look at the damn thing. My little face stared up at me, with a dishevelled mug-shot look that I'm sure we're all familiar with. Yeah, don't worry, I don't look good in my license photo either. I flipped it over, spying the 'corrective lenses required mark just below the signature box. Winter poked my in the cheek.
"C'mon, kiddo, we got stuff to do. Find a nice spot in your wallet for that."
I nodded, and pulled out the little leather folder from my coat, flipping it open to the previously-unused transparent plastic sleeve on the inside left side. Obviously this was for a driver's license, so that's exactly where I put mine, folding my wallet back up and sticking it back into my coat. We left the building together, almost skipping our way back out into the mid-February air, which was much milder than it had been in quite a few years. In fact, I'm pretty sure it had been the warmest February on record in quite some time, as there had even been the odd local news story on it. Gotta say, it was nice to be wearing a light spring jacket on my birthday for once, instead of the big heavy ski coat I had for properly inclement weather.
It was something like five degrees out with the early day sun out, beating down on us and the saturday morning parking lot. Now, I know that five degrees in most parts of the world is actually pretty cold, but for us here forty-five degrees above the equator in February, that's almost tropical. We're used to snow and ice and bullshit temperatures usually far below zero, so five degrees is almost shorts weather. I mean, just a few years ago was the ice storm of ninety-eight, where all of the Valley froze solid under ten centimetres of ice in early January, so this unprecedented warmth was more than welcome. Although I will agree that skating down the middle of the street was pretty neat, even if our house was critically without power. But hey, I was ten, I saw the fun in it all.
So in the sunlight of today, the bright warmth of a clear day shone down on us and the ServiceOntario parking lot, reflecting off the cars lined up row by row in front of us, and I felt at ease. It was a good day to have sun, especially since it was my birthday. I had turned sixteen years old on so far the nicest day of two thousand four. It was great.
Right up until the moment we rounded the corner of the lot to our car, and I was reminded of what I had just accomplished here.
"Hey, Birthday Girl."
I turned to Winter.
"Uh huh?"
"Catch."
I barely had time to react before the jingling keychain hit me in the chest and fell into my arms. I almost stumbled backwards trying to catch them, but managed to stay butt-side-up this time. Lucky me, of course, with my history.
"Wh-what?" I stumbled out. "What do you mean?"
"You're driving, duh."
I blinked at her dumbly.
"Wh- I thou- I thought you were kidding about that! I was just playing along!"
She sneered.
"Hell no, you're driving."
"But I don't know how to drive!"
"That little plastic rectangle in your wallet says otherwise."
I fumbled backwards a step. Technically she was correct. The worst kind of correct.
"Buh- Winter, I've never driven before! Are you nuts?"
"I am not. I've seen the way you play those arcade racers, you're a natural."
"Video games are not equivalent to driving a real car!"
She shrugged and walked over to the passenger side of the big wagon.
"Sure they are. There are plenty of video-game style simulators being used to train drivers all over the world, how is that any different?"
"Because Need For Speed Underground and Daytona USA aren't simulators!"
My pleading was getting me nowhere. Winter had already peeled open the passenger door and slid herself comfortably into the passenger side of the front bench, eyeing me with a cheeky grin all the while. I was beckoned forward, and unfortunately for my returning nerves, I approached the large automobile. And I do mean large. When you're a passenger, it doesn't matter how big a vehicle is, all that matters is how comfortably can you sleep while being driven around. But when faced with the daunting task of actually driving this ocean liner, I started to realize the sheer scale and volume of iron that was to be at my disposal. The big Pontiac had never seemed quite so large before.
I gingerly approached and reached for the sleek flush-mounted door handle, sliding my fingers up under the chrome pull flap. Obviously I'd opened this door many times in the past, but all of a sudden it scared me, because this time I wasn't about to slide across the seat to my side. I was sitting on this side.
And so in I dropped, carefully into the indentation left by ten years of my sister's posterior pressing into the thick, vulgar quilted vinyl seat and settled in. The door fell shut behind me with a heavy crunch, cutting the sound of the outside world off fairly well for such an old car. I shivered, and not from the cold, but from the fear of what I was about to do. My dumbass hands argued with me the whole time I was trying to arrange the keys in a way that they would slide into the column, and made me drop them a few times onto my knees. Now, our Catalina wagon was the top-trim Grand Safari model, meaning it had power-everything including a power front bench seat. A good thing, considering I had to move it forward a million miles so I could reach the seriously wood-panelled pedals. With a shaky hand, I found the ignition, slid the key in, and turned. And four hundred cubic inches of 'holy shit, I'm really doing this' thundered to life in front of me.
"Winter, I don't think I can do this."
"Just drive the car, hun."
"But-"
"Do what you feel is natural. It's really easy to drive, I promise. Oh, and adjust your mirrors."
I huffed nervously and reached for the power mirror toggle and did my best to set it so the rear quarter panel was only just visible at the edge of each mirror, which was kinda hard given how small the darn things were. When I figured I was good, I looked to my sister nervously.
"Don't look at me, man." She gestured to the oversized, expansive hood. "Drive on, captain."
Captain was right, with how big this stupid yacht was. I wasn't ready for this, but apparently I didn't have a choice. I reached for the long, protruding gear selector and pulled it down into drive. The car lurched a little. My heart stopped. I was, uh, to say I was ill-equipped for this would be an understatement. I let off the brake, and felt the sudden sway of each of the fifty-three hundred pounds as it moved forward out of the parking spot.
"Oh shit." I pushed the extra-soft brake pedal back down and stopped, barely having made it out of its own length. "Winter, this is nuts."
"You're doing alright. Make sure to signal before you turn."
I think I was pretty panicked at this point, but I followed her instructions anyway, flicking up on the skinny chrome handle on the side of the steering column. The over-boosted power steering was incredibly disconcerting as the enormous wood-grain wheel basically turned itself all the way over to the right as I lumbered the car out of the spot and around the van it was parked next to. My goodness was this vehicle long. But I managed well enough without hitting anything or anyone at two miles an hour to the end of the parking lot where the road was. And then I panicked again, stopping as the traffic flowed by in each direction.
"Okay, this isn't possible."
"It's completely possible. This is called a bridge median, and it's like a protected merge-slash-turning lane. Signal to the left, and when traffic is clear, pull out and onto the median and position yourself parallel to the lanes of traffic. Then signal right and merge into the lane of travel."
"This is bullshit."
"Don't worry, there's only like, three of these kinds of medians in all of Ottawa, you'll rarely have to use them. Proceed when the way is clear."
I shivered again and took a glance up the street in the oncoming lane. There was a pretty huge gap after an approaching Penske truck. It passed.
"Now?"
"Don't let me tell you what to do, you're the driver. But yes."
My muscles as froze up as I flicked the turn signal stalk down and fed my foot in on the long skinny go pedal, sinking the car onto its back springs as it pulled forward with the smoothness of a rubber band. I turned the over-light wheel to the left and tried to to cry as the huge car tracked around like an aircraft carrier onto the middle of the median. I stopped, mostly parallel, my heart racing and my lungs hyperventilating. Look, most people learn in a Honda Civic, this was ridiculous, I can be excused. I paused for a second to collect myself, before signaling to the right and checking backwards over my right shoulder. Truth be told, the acres of glass that made up the back of the wagon made shoulder-checking and lane changes incredibly easy. A red Cherokee and a grey Camry went by in the lane I wanted, leaving a pretty big gap before the next car. I mustered up every ounce of courage in my body and didn't bother asking if she thought the way was clear, and pushed the go pedal down what I thought was enough.
"C'mon, commit. Merge a little faster."
I bit my tongue to stop myself from yelling as I tried my best, watching the orange needle jump disconcertingly fast up to twenty, then forty, then sixty. I let off and let the car coast back down to fifty, which was the unmarked limit on this road. Much to my surprise, once the car was moving it actually tracked really straight in the lane and didn't need any adjustments to the huge wheel. I was still panicking, mind you.
"There, see, you're driving! It's not so hard, right?"
I made a noise.
"Ah, it's your first time, don't worry about it. Oop, yellow light, slow down and stop at the line."
I'd seen the yellow, and had already taken my foot away from the noise pedal and started to feed it slowly onto the brake. I was very thankful for the car's front disk brakes, as they slowed the car down almost like a modern automobile, but with the front-end dive of a police dog sniffing the grass. I managed to get the big monolith stopped just behind the white line.
"Alright…" Winter sat up in her seat and looked around. "I'm only going to say this once, because I want you to know what it feels like. Because if you do this when I'm not in the car, I will never let you drive it again. Understand?"
I looked at her dumbly.
"What?"
"What I'm about to tell you to do, can you promise me here and now that you'll never do it again?"
I stuttered. "Uh, I-I guess?"
"Okay." She pointed forward. "When the light goes green, stand on it."
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You have to know what it feels like, so you remember to always drive below this level. Get ready."
I shivered. "O-okay."
The light went green.
"Floor it."
I did.
All of my fear went away in an instant as all five of my senses were filled by two hundred and thirty Malaise-era horsepower thundering away beneath me.
And it was fantastic.
/.../
My nerves hadn't been satiated in the twenty minutes it took to drive from Walkley to Barrhaven, even if I was doing exactly the speed limit, like a good girl. The HMS Catalina was incredibly forgiving to my frightened ass, and didn't bark or bite even once on the trip. It was like driving a marshmallow with power steering. Sublime, really. Nonetheless I was still sweating bullets when we pulled into the subdivision, even if the road was beautifully wide and free of parked cars.
"Oh, thank god, we're almost there." I sighed out.
"Hey, you didn't break any traffic laws yet, you're already doing better than me, Kiddo."
"I don't wanna go to jail, I won't break any laws, ever."
Winter scoffed.
"Keep telling yourself that."
Well, as much as my sixteen-year-old self promised to never break any traffic laws, we all know this isn't possible to anyone. We all roll stop signs, change lanes without signalling, and some of us even park more than thirty centimeters from the curb! Preposterous, I know! But I digress, I was sixteen, I was gonna follow the damn rules if it killed me. I slowed the big car down well before the driveway on the left I was aiming for, just in case. The Previa was parked out in the street, actually, almost like they knew I would be driving and would try to park in their driveway. I signaled, waited for a shiny red Mustang rumble by in the other direction, and then swung the massive Pontiac across the street and up Jaune's driveway. You know, there was actually a fairly steep four-ish inch curb at the end of his driveway where the pavement had eroded away, and you had to bunny-hop it on a bike. But the big, plush wagon steamrolled that curb like it was flat ground.
"Okay." I stuttered out as I pulled up, putting the car in park. "I can stop now."
Winter reached over and ruffled my hair, knocking my scrunchie loose.
"Oh, sweetheart, you're fine."
"I'm gonna go get Jaune."
"Hop to it. We gotta be there at ten."
I left the car running to keep the heater on as I shouldered my way out of the large automobile and into the brisk, mild air. And wouldn't you know it, Jaune was sitting in a chair in his front living room, his back to the window. I smiled a devious smile. A fool, he was. I snuck slowly up the cobblestone walkway and up the concrete front steps to his porch. Nobody else in the house had noticed either the rumble of the big four-hundred or my sneaky steps up to the window, which was great because when I knocked loudly upon it, Jaune nearly became one with the ceiling.
He mouthed something at me through the window. I assume fairly profane, But I can't be sure.
"Hey, idiot, c'mon." I gestured at his front door. "We're losing daylight."
It was nine in the morning.
He hobbled around his living room and ducked out of sight. I tapped my foot impatiently for a second, before his front door opened quite aggressively.
"You're an asshole, you know that, right?"
I nodded.
"Yep."
"Do you have to be like this?"
"Yep."
"Hoyyy…"
"Yep."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat off the rack next to the door.
"You're an idiot."
"You say that like it's a bad thing, Jaune."
"Occasionally."
I punched him in the arm.
"Play nice."
"Ow. Happy birthday, idiot."
I danced in place for a second.
"It's mah burf-dayyyy!" I cheered. "And I'm older than you again."
I got another roll of the eyes in retaliation. Yes, I was older than Jaune all the time, but for the brief periods between our birthdays, I could actually prove it. I had 'evidence'. A minor difference in age.
"Whatever. I bought new pants for this. Can we go?"
I pirouetted in a small circle and bounced down the walkway and back out to the driveway. Jaune called his goodbyes through the open door and locked it as he followed. I slid down the driveway to the car and positioned myself at the driver's door. And exactly as you might expect, when Jaune rounded the corner of his house and saw where I was standing and what that might imply, he stopped in his tracks.
"Wait, don't tell me."
"Oh yeah, buddy."
He scrunched up his face and squeezed his head in his hands.
"I was happier on my couch without the looming fear of death over me."
"Look, Jaune, this is just part of being my friend."
"I'd like to cancel my subscription."
"No take-backsies."
"Damn it."
"Get in."
"Oy."
I slinked back into the driver's seat of the big car and got settled in, as Jaune begrudgingly clambered into the back seat right behind me. With a click, I did up my seat belt, and I could hear Jaune fumbling around in the back for his.
"No seat belt back there, remember?" I stared at him through the rearview mirror.
"Wh- wait, I thought one of the stipulations for having a G1 was that you are only allowed as many passengers as you have seat belts."
I frowned, looking at my sister.
"Y-yeah, that is right."
She shrugged. "Car's wearing Historic plates, so it gets an exemption in this case. It wasn't built with rear seat belts, so it doesn't have to conform to that particular law, only the laws of the year the vehicle was manufactured."
I send a particularly devilish smile Jaune's way.
"Thought you could get out of me driving, didn't you?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Sucks to be you, don't it."
He crossed his arms and pouted as I slowly rolled out my shoulders and readied myself to drive. I took a few deep breaths, as that had worked earlier to calm my nerves. With all of us ready to go, I pulled the car into reverse and carefully backed down the driveway, being cautious as to not drive into the back of Jaune's dad's minivan. I got the car moving again, slowly as you might expect, and drove us down the road towards the main road. You know, after a few minutes of me proving myself a competent driver, I could see Jaune start to relax in the back seat, which was doing wonders for my self-confidence, actually.
Em's subdivision was almost a mirror replica of Jaune's side, as if the city planner in charge of this part of Barrhaven was sick the day they were designing, and the intern was just like 'do it again, but opposite', and thats what they went with. It meant it was easy to get around, as I used to live on Jaune's side of the suburb, and had memorized the street layout. In my opinion, I always liked our side. Em's side was far too foreign. And I don't mean like, foreign people, I just mean that we generally weren't allowed to cross the main road into the far side suburb. It was too far away. You feel me? But anyway, I maneuvered the large automobile across the main road and into the far side subdivision, fairly sleepy of cars and people at nine in the morning on a Saturday in February, as I would assume most people would reasonably be having breakfast with their families or watching morning cartoons at this hour.
As I pulled around the rather tight corner in the backstreets that she lived in, I saw the next rather daunting obstacle that the big Pontiac and I faced in her driveway, that being the also huge and significantly more expensive S-Class Executive owned by her dad parked right in the middle of the supposedly two-car driveway. I didn't even try to squeeze the Catalina in next to it, as the piano-black luxury car was worth more than my apartment, and then some. Her father was given the car as reparations for the tragedy that befell him three years ago, and damn did he love it. I pulled our car along behind it and parked it on the street instead of going anywhere near the huge sedan, lifting the transmission into park again.
"Kay, I'll go fetch Loser. You guys wait here."
Winter shrugged.
"Yeah, go 'head. I'm comfy here."
I scurried out of the car and back into the cold air, scampering up the driveway and up the three skinny concrete steps to her front porch, which was still decorated with coloured lights and would be until march most years. I stabbed my finger into the doorbell button for probably too long, hearing the musical chiming of her doorbell singing out inside. I waited, and after about a minute, I heard the door unlock. It swung open slower than I was anticipating, and it was followed by Em's head and pretty face, which was a lot whiter around the gills than I was anticipating.
"Hey hot stuff." I chided.
"Mmm." she tried. "G'morning."
"You ready to go?"
She shook her head, lips pursed and eyes closed to the light of the day.
"I was sick this morning."
I gave her a once over. Sick or not, she had gotten dressed.
"Please, you were sick yesterday and Thursday morning too, you were fine by lunch."
She nodded, agreeing, but not looking any less green.
"Yeah, I guess."
"It's probably just something in your stomach, it'll buff out."
She stood a little further upright, a twinge of pain on her face.
"You're probably right. But still. I dunno, man."
"You'll be fine, loser. Besides, I made four people worth of food, it would be a shame if we all had to eat thirty-three percent too much because you didn't come."
Em's head hung to her chest, a dejected smile on her face.
"You're ridiculous."
"It's muh birthday, Emerald. You have to come."
"Right. Right. I know." She sighed, deeply. "Let me get my coat."
I clapped sarcastically and bounced in place as she turned around to grab her jacket out of the closet. She seemed to be deliberately dragging her feet, as always, as some form of defiance against me. 'Cause, you know, that's how she was. A loser. After a moment of stalling, I had her out the door and into the weather. I dunno, maybe the cold would be good for her, probably. I know a cold glass of water and a nap with the window open always fixes my winter colds. I pulled her along diligently outside and down the driveway to the big car, reaching out and opening the back door for her.
"My lady."
She fell in sideways, forcing Jaune to move over.
"Yeah, whatever."
I just chuckled at her snide attitude and slammed the big iron door behind her, and slid myself back into the driver's seat. To her protest, of course.
"Wait, no, you're driving?! Since when do you have a license?!"
"Since this morning."
She struggled for words for a second.
"Buh- uh - no! I'm not gonna put myself at risk today! I'm gettin' out!"
She dived for the door. Lucky for me, I had an ally in the back seat who grabbed her around the midsection and held her in place. Thanks, Jaune.
/.../
The Valentine's Day Car Show at the EY Centre was probably one of my favourite events growing up. It was too bad global warming had to go and change the climate so much they put a stop to the events in twenty ten. But in the years before that, the Canadian Antique Car Association would host a charity event for the Heart and Stroke Foundation on Valentine's day, and invite basically anyone with a classic car from before nineteen ninety. The admission was forty bucks per car, twenty bucks if you were just a visitor without a car, and this would be the first time I attended the event with a car. The usual turnout for this event often went into the hundreds of cars, typically around two-fifty, and attendance was always in the thousands. It was a popular show. A shame it had to come to an end. Also, yes I realize the acronym for the car club spells 'Caca', but we all held our tongues when reading the sign. We were technically still children, we were going to find it funny regardless.
Our car, The big Pontiac, was saddle up somewhere near the middle of the exhibition hall, parked as you'd expect with a collection of other classic General Motors products of around the same year. On our left, a seventy-three Grand Ville convertible in Florentine Red with a white roof, and to our right, a completely base model seventy-two Chevelle Malibu sedan, complete with the 'Turbo-Thrift' six cylinder and a three-speed manual. And according to the plaque in front of the car, it wasn't beige, it was 'Covert Tan'. Sure, Chevy. That's what it is.
Directly across the velvet aisle from us was probably one of the cooler cars at the whole show, actually. A real sixty-nine GTO Judge, fully optioned with the Ram Air IV engine and hood-mounted tachometer, in original condition. It wasn't restored, or repainted, or anything. It was original, with the little bits of sun-fading on the Carousel Red bodywork, paint chips on the front bumper, teeny tiny cracks in the deep black leather seats. This was a piece of history, not a prissy piece of art like a lot of the Corvettes and Mustangs on the other end of the show. This car had actually been driven here, not dropped off in an air conditioned trailer. I was in awe of the car, so much so I had been distracted by it ever since it had rumbled into the parking space.
"Weiss, you're dripping soap on the ground."
My sister's casual chiding brought me back down to earth.
"Oh, shit."
I fumbled with the rag for a second, grabbing a dry one from under my stool and wiping away the wet streak of soapy wash and wax liquid I had dribbled down the side of the door.
"Yeah, man, you're making a mess." Em laughed from her chair.
"Shut up, loser." I spat back. "You're not even helping."
She shrugged. "It's not my car."
"Jaune's helping!" I pointed with my elbow to Jaune, who was busy clay-barring the long hood. "What's your excuse?"
"I just did my nails this morning."
I looked at her hands. No she hadn't. I rolled my eyes and threw a towel at her.
"Make yourself useful and at least towel off the roof. You can actually reach it."
She rolled her eyes back.
"Fine, whatever. It's not my fault you're so short."
I ignored the comment about my height and spritzed the door with more wash and wax.
"You ain't mooching off my snacks if you don't help me clean my car. Also, what happened to being sick this morning, you're fine now aren't you?"
"Yeah, what of it?" She stood up and started to do as asked.
"I told you you'd be fine, didn't I? You made a big deal out of nothing."
Em just ignored me and continued to towel off the car, flipping her hair in my direction. God, I liked when she did that. Just… don't tell anyone. Anyway, I was making progress at this point cleaning the car, having made my way all the way down the twenty-three foot long flank, having used most of a bottle of Turtle Wax waterless wash and wax solution, and all the road grime had been carefully polished off. Good thing we had run the car through a car wash that was less than a kilometre from the convention centre. That had reduced the amount of cleaning by a lot, and I was pretty pleased about that. I rubbed my nose on the back of my hand.
"Hey, Em, you've been hanging out with Jaune and I a lot more, lately."
Em paused her cleaning.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"It's just… I dunno, you used to spend so much time with Ryan, what happened?"
She sighed. "We broke up."
I frowned. "Man, you've been together for like three years, what happened?"
"Two years, and… I don't wanna talk about it."
I stood up.
"What do you mean, c'mon, tell me. People don't have a long standing relationship like that then drop it like a sock full of lead."
"Why not?"
"Well.. there's gotta be a reason, right?"
She turned, and stood pointedly at me with a dull glare.
"I said I don't wanna talk about it."
"Well, I know you don't wanna talk about it, but where you're wrong is that you are gonna talk about it. Ryan was like, the best guy you've ever dated. He's kind, he's cute, he's sensitive. He's like Jaune, only, not Jaune."
Like clockwork, Jaune's head appeared around the front of the car.
"You think I'm cute?"
"Fuck off, Jaune, you're not part of this." I teased, tossing a rag at him. He disappeared again. "Anyway, he was a great guy, what happened, Emerald?"
She sighed, shoulders dropping heavily. This was a bad sign, usually.
"It's just…" She looked away.
"What, did he hit you, or something?" I could feel myself getting prematurely angry.
She shook her head, alleviating that worry.
"No, no… just… let's say that something happened, and I wasn't exactly pleased with the way he handled it. And… I assumed he was more mature than that. I was wrong. So I couldn't in good conscience continue that relationship."
I straightened.
"That's an awfully professional way of putting it."
"I've been trying to grow up recently. I figured it was time. Plus, that's pretty much how my mom said it after I went to her about it."
"Well, don't grow up too fast, jeez."
She leaned against the car with one hand on her face. She grimaced, but maintained a positive tone.
"It's not exactly by choice, but I'll try to stay a kid as long as possible. You know?"
"Emerald. I got in trouble this morning for being too dramatic. You can take it down a notch, or you don't get any birthday cake."
She immediately seemed to lighten, Taking her weight off the car and standing up again.
"I do like cake."
"Well then, cheer up, don't worry so hard about things you can't control, and have some cake later."
"I'll… certainly try."
"That's what I like to hear. Now c'mere. You look like you need a hug."
She sighed. But stepped forward.
"Yeah, probably."
I took hold of her arms and pulled her in. I actually briefly forgot about our difference in height, right up until I caught her sternum in my nose as I wrapped my skinny arms around her back.
"Ow" we said together.
"Bend down a little."
"Sorry."
It was not our most comfortable of hugs, I'll be honest, since we mostly did our snuggling either sitting or lying down. But it got my point across. Everything was going to be okay, so long as I was around. Even if I personally was woefully underprepared for her actual problems at current, I was okay with blissful ignorance as long as I could make my friend feel better.
"There, see?" I gently rubbed her back. "Feel better."
"Yeah."
"Well, then you can have cake."
"I like cake."
"Yeah, but you like me more, right?"
"Yeah."
I smiled.
"Goody. C'mon, they're handing out best in show awards in a few minutes. Car's gotta be spotless."
She chuckled and did a pretty bad air force salute.
"You got it, captain."
/.../
"And the winner of the award for best street rod, pre-nineteen fifty goes to John Milner, that's a mister Jonathan Milner and his nineteen thirty-two Ford Five-Window. That's one great lookin' machine, John. C'mon up and get yer award."
They had been handing out awards for a while now. Something like twenty-five awards already, and the table of statues had barely even been half collected yet. I had seen the yellow Deuce Coupe on a tour of the event with Jaune, and it was absolutely deserving of the award. Beach Boys album on the dash and everything. We watched the man struggle to get up out of his chair to collect his award. The guy looked like he was ninety, but damn was he a craftsman. He seemed pleased to be getting awarded, but I had seen his photo album next to his car and this wasn't the first award that car had won. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had won best in show overall.
"Next up is Road Classic General Motors, nineteen sixty to nineteen eighty."
That was the group our car was entered in. I leaned over to Jaune and Em, sitting next to me in the dull grey plastic chairs.
"I bet that Judge across from us is gonna win. That thing is absolutely beauti-"
"Weiss Schnee, that's a miss Weiss Schnee with the nineteen seventy three Pontiac Catalina Grand Safari. Come on up 'ere."
I balked, freezing. Em and Jaune just turned to me with amused smiles.
"...ful?"
"Go on up, hun." Winter bumped me with her elbow. "Don't keep the man waiting."
I didn't really have any words as I sorta automatically rose from my seat. I shuffled sideways down the aisle and out, scurrying up to the edge of the stage, my head spinning. I nearly tripped over my own dumbass feet as I climbed up the two tiny steps and up onto the platform. The man with the microphone beckoned me over.
"C'mon, don't be shy, now."
Hey, I wasn't doing it deliberately.
I approached, and daintily shook the MC's outstretched right hand and took the award he presented with his other. It was a lovely dark cherry wood plaque, with a brass plate that had the best in show award title imprinted upon it, along with an etching of a sixty-three ragtop Corvette, the symbol of the car club. I was stunned.
"Th-thank you, sir."
"Don't think you don't deserve it, ma'am. I like the car. And it really is best in class."
"Uh…"
"We'll get your award engraved with your name on it, it should be done by Friday. We'll give you a call, yeah?"
I shivered. My own award. For me!
"Yeah, I mean… yeah!"
"And happy birthday, kid."
I laughed. I could see Jaune and Emmy clapping for me down in their chairs. I heard Em whistle loudly with her fingers. They were the only ones cheering for me, but that was okay, they were the only ones I wanted cheering for me. A pretty damn good day, if I do say so.
Best Sweet Sixteen of my life.
