1So I've come to the realization that I have a valid reason for my lack of updates. I let my friend borrow my TAF book (bad move) and didn't get a new one (yes, a new one, seeing as how she lost my old one) until a few days ago.

Thanks for the readers and reviews!! They were very reassuring...but I have a quick question that I need answering before I can really continue:

Does Wes know Macy's dad died?

This is probably a completely dumb question, but I'm definitely not going to try and guess. Please let me know! And I hope you enjoy. Sorry if it's another slow chapter.

"How about an El Camino, Bert?" I asked, just to see the reaction he'd give me.

"An El Camino? Are you kidding me, Wes?" Bingo.

I eyed the piece of junk thoughtfully. "Well, it probably only has like a hundred and eighty-thousand miles on it."

Bert snorted angrily. "Great, so I'd probably get about twelve miles before it broke down. Great logic."

"Twelve miles is a lot," I noted. "Can you imagine running that?"

"I'm not getting that car, Wes. Just drop it."

It was probably the boredom kicking in. We'd been walking around through the car lot for at least two hours trying to find a decent car with decent mileage for a decent price. It didn't exactly help matters that Bert was the most indecisive person on the planet.

I scratched the back of my head. "We could just share a car," I said hesitantly, not liking the idea myself. But I felt bad about the fact that this car lot was more of a junkyard.

He looked at me, checking if I was being serious or not. "I need to learn independence and...responsibility and stuff," he said, glancing at what looked to be a 1990 Oldsmobile. I quickly lead him on.

We walked the lot for several more minutes. I think Bert spent more time slapping mosquitoes off his skin than actually looking for his car. The humid summer air was making it hard to concentrate and think straight, which might help people understand why Bert pulled on my arm for me to stop.

What I had taken for a gigantic pile of rubble turned out to be, in fact, a car...Or something resembling a car. It was a poorly painted off-white color, and Bert was grinning at it like he'd just fallen in love. I hoped, as he walked around in a circle around it, that he would regain his vision and find out it wasn't the car for him...or anyone, for that matter. But he kept circling it.

I leaned towards the front grille, trying to make out lettering that had been painted over hastily. "Bert, it's an ambulance."

"I love it."

I pulled a hand threw my hair. "Bert," I said again, slower this time. "It's an ambulance."

"Was," he corrected me, as though it made a difference. "It was an ambulance."

The car salesman chose this time to swoop in for the final kill. "See something you like?" he asked in a too-sweet voice.

"No," I stated.

Bert shot me a look, a bead of perspiration running down his temple. "Yes," he said, turning back to the vulture. "I'll take this one."

"Bert!" I protested, incredulous.

"All right," continued the salesman, as though he hadn't heard me. He pulled the key out of his pocket, obviously having seen Bert's determined look from a mile away, and jiggled it in his hand. "Eight hundred, please." He flashed us a wide smile, as if it would distract us from the ridiculous pricing.

"Eight hundred?" I repeated. "No way. How many miles does this thing have on it, anyways? A million?"

The vulture faked a chuckle or two. "Only a hundred and twenty thousand. Bought it from the town auction about a month ago."

"I'll take it," Bert repeated, apparently not having heard what was just said.

I ran a hand over my face. "Oh, good God, Bert. Think about this!"

Bert thought about it (or said he did, at least), and, after haggling down a hundred fifty, he hopped in and followed my decent car back home. I looked in the rearview mirror as we pulled in, shamelessly hoping it would fall right into the hole. It didn't.

"This car's got to be the safest thing on the road," Bert said as he stepped out, slamming the creaky door. "Great for the apocalypse."

I sighed, shutting my own door. "Right. Just go get changed so we can pick up the girls. Your shirt is soaked."

He looked down at his shirt, reddening slightly, and then went into the house.

"And happy birthday," I called after him.

"Wes, put that down," he told me as we were driving to the given address, daring to take his eyes off the road. "You're going to break it."

I fiddled with the intercom for a few seconds longer, but nothing happened. "It's already broken," I stated, leaning back in my seat. He glared at me for half a second, and I smiled.

They were all loading up the van as we pulled into the driveway thirty minutes later. It was supposed to have been a fifteen minute drive, but Bert was a religious follower of the road rules.

He cut the engine and stuck his head out the window. "Ladies," he said in an ominous voice. "Witness the Bertmobile."

Crickets actually started chirping before somebody let out a gasp I recognized as Delia's.

Kristy was the first to recover. "Oh, my god. You've got to be joking." I saw her take a few tentative steps forward.

Bert forced his door open and hopped out, hitting the ground with a thud. "What?" he asked, hardly bothered with her obvious disapproval.

It took me a moment to get my door open. "I thought you were getting Uncle Henry's car," Delia stated hesitantly as I found the ground. I was surprised to see the girl Bert had scared standing next to Kristy. Her head was cocked politely as she took in the car.

Delia cleared her throat, eyeing the tank. "Wasn't that the plan?"

Bert stuck his chest out. "Changed my mind."

"Why?" she asked, walking up to peek into the vehicle. Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to one side, putting two and two together. "Wait," she began, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. "Is this an-"

"Vehicle that makes a statement? Yes," Bert replied. "Yes it is."

An vehicle that makes a statement, I thought to myself, going to stand against the bumper. Clever, Bert.

"Ambulance?" Her voice wavered with shock. "It is, isn't it?"

Kristy doubled over laughing. "No way!" She continued laughing, glancing up at my brother. "Bert, only you would think you could get action in a car where people have died."

Delia was circling the Bertmobile, her lips pursed. "Where did you get this? Is it even legal to drive?"

I shook my head, wondering why she was even asking.

"I bought it from that auto salvage lot by the airport," Bert said, grinning at his car. He ran a hand over the top of it as though it were a prized Doberman. "The guy there got it from a town auction. Isn't that the coolest?"

Delia looked at me, desperation and disapproval written all over her face. "What happened to Uncle Henry's Cutlass?"

"I tried to stop him," I said defensively. "But you know how he is. He insisted. And it is his money."

"You can't make a statement with a Cutlass!" Bert exclaimed, jingling the keys.

Kristy had been spending most of her time looking Bert up and down, blatant disgust in her countenance. "Bert, you can't make a statement, period. I mean, what are you wearing? Didn't I tell you not to dress like someone's dad?" She leaned forward, squinting at his shirt. "God. Is that shirt polyester?"

Bert was unabashed, running a hand over his shirt. "Poly-blend," he stated smoothly. "Ladies like a well-dressed man."

I ran a hand over my face.

"Donneven," Monica drawled, taking another drag on her cigarette.

Delia was still looking at the thing. "It's an ambulance."

"A former ambulance," Bert said again, running his hand over it once more. "It's got history. It's got personality. It's got-"

"Final sale status," I interrupted before he could work himself up. "He can't take it back. When he drove it off the lot, that was it."

Delia ran a hand through her mussed hair, shaking her head. Bert studied her almost apologetically.

"It's what I wanted," he told her. I sighed inwardly, realizing that's really the only thing that mattered.

Delia gave him a halfhearted smile and embraced him, her belly making it hard to fit her arms around his wider gerth. "Well, happy birthday, little man. I can't believe you're already sixteen. It makes me feel old."

"You're not old."

She smiled distractedly, getting caught in a memory. "Old enough to remember the day you were born." She pulled back to brush the hair out of his face, her hand resting maternally on his cheek. "Your mom was so happy. She said you were her wish come true."

Bert's nostrils flared before he looked down, trying to keep it together. Right after she died, the smallest things said to him could set him off crying for hours. He'd gotten stronger since then. Delia seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear.

He looked up at her, his face flushing with sadness and, maybe, happiness, before he looked into the trees.

Delia seemed to realize we were still here, and her gaze landed on the new girl. "Did you guys officially meet Macy?"

Ah, so Macy was her name.

"Macy, these are my nephews, Bert and Wes."

"We met the other night," Macy said, running a hand behind her neck.

My lips twitched at the memory. "Bert sprung at her from behind some garbage cans." It was so frustrating that her face was still hidden by the darkness. Ironic, because there was a lamp post right next to her that apparently wasn't turned on in the dark. The one behind her, of course, was on.

"God," Kristy began, annoyed. "Are you two still doing that? It's so stupid."

"I only did it because I'm down," he said in his defense. "By three!"

I smirked at him, knowing he was never going to catch up.

"All I'm saying is that the next person that leaps out at me from behind a door is getting a punch in the gut," said Kristy, filing down her perfectly painted nails. "I don't care if you're down or not."

"Mmm-hmmm," Monotone seconded.

Bert kicked a stray piece of concrete. "I thought she was Wes...And I wouldn't jump out from behind a door anyway. That's basic. We're way beyond that."

I decided not to mention the fact that I'd gotten two points from doing that.

"Are you?" Kristy asked, but Bert ignored her. She turned to Macy. "It's this stupid gotcha thing, they've been doing it for weeks now. Leaping out at each other and us," she shot us looks here. "Scaring the hell out of everyone."

"It's a game of wits," Bert said to her, trying to make it sound more mature than it was.

"Half-wits," Kristy added. Clever.

"There's nothing like a good gotcha."

Delia yawned, trying to shake the sleepiness from her eyes. "Well, I hate to break this up," she said, blinking. "But I'm going home. Old pregnant ladies have to be in bed by midnight. It's the rule."

Bert jumped into action. "Come on! The night is young! The Bertmobile needs christening!"

Kristy looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "We're all going to ride around in an ambulance?"

"It's got all the amenities! It's just like a car. It's better than a car!"

She looked at him. "Does it have a CD player?"

"Actually-"

"No," I said. "But it does have a broken intercom system."

She snorted. "Oh, well, then. I'm sold."

Bert shot her a glare, obviously tired of her teasing. She smiled a genuine smile and squeezed his arm as she headed to the back. Monica stood up and followed her, wiping stray pavement off her clothes.

Delia pulled open the door to the van. She looked so tired I almost offered to drive her home. "Have a fun night. Don't drive too fast, Bert, you hear?"

Everyone found this hilarious. I wasn't the only one who knew about Bert's need to obey the speed laws. Macy stood still, looking understandably confused. I figured Bert had had enough of everyone's teasing for the night, so I held my composure...With difficulty, of course.

"Wes," Delia called out, shoving the key into the ignition. "Can you come here for a sec?"

I started over towards Delia, but met Macy in that slightly embarrassing dance as we tried to move around each other. Finally, though, her face was in the light.

She had her dad's eyes, I realized immediately. It might have been a while since I'd seen her dad, but I'd always remembered the eery grey color of them. Her cheekbones were set high, her golden blonde hair framing her face just so.

She seemed to be more aware of the situation than I was, for she stopped moving, allowing me to move past.

"Sorry about that," I said, flashing her a smile before heading around the van.

"Wes," Delia said, looking at me sternly. "I don't want Bert to get into any trouble, understood?"

I nodded, keeping the fact that I'd never let that happen to him to myself.

She nodded as well, seemingly reassured. "I want him to have a goodnight, though, okay? And I'm glad you let him get that...car."

I grinned. "Like I had a say in it?"

She chuckled and patted my arm, knowing Bert's ways all too well. "Alright. Well you all have a nice time."

"We will." I passed back around the van and found Macy heading towards her car. I should have asked her to come with us, but all that came out was, "Have a good night."

She nodded, seemingly distracted, and I got into the Bertmobile. Kristy was looking around, gingerly sitting down. Monica put out her cigarette, not even bothering to look around.

"Ugh, this thing has got to work, Bert," Kristy said, reaching for the radio dials. Some stations you could make out the hint of music, but static dominated each channel.

"So did Macy not want to come?" Kristy asked, hitting her hand against the box.

I cleared my throat. "I didn't ask."

She paused in her music efforts to give me an efficient glare, and then turned just as Bert pulled next to Macy's car.

"Hey," she called across me. "You want to come out with us?"

She looked taken aback, and I instantly felt bad about not asking her earlier. "Oh, no," she said, jingling her keys. "I really have to go-"

Kristy, her eyes still on Macy, absent-mindedly twisted the radio dial, and finally found a working song: someone outright shrieking their chorus at the top of their lungs. I winced, turning my head away to try to ease the ringing.

"-home," Macy finished with a smile.

Kristy turned down the volume so only neighbors within half a mile could hear. "Are you sure? I mean, do you really want to pass this up?" She looked pointedly around the Bertmobile. "How often do you get to ride in an ambulance?"

Something oddly familiar shot across this stranger's face.

"It's a refurbished ambulance," Bert grumbled.

Kristy rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she replied flatly, turning her attention back to Macy. "Come on, live a little."

"No, I'd better go," said Macy, looking at Kristy gratefully. "But thanks."

Kristy shrugged. "Okay...Next time, though, okay?"

The girl nodded. "Right," she said quietly. "Sure."

I found myself oddly disappointed that she couldn't be convinced to go. I mean, sure, it was very possible that she had other plans, but it didn't sound that way. It sounded like something was holding her back. I waved my hand out the window in goodbye.