The day goes like I predicted, with little to no actual homework being assigned. Except in Algebra II. That balding teacher looks pretty menacing when he says that if we don't hand in our work on time, we don't get another chance. Just what I need, another hard ass.
Lancer's class is the last one of the day and I spend most of it pitching paper balls toward the trash can when he has his back turned. Jeff joins me halfway through the class but he's the one that gets caught. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snickering at the expression on his face as Lancer calls him down.
We're set free after we're assigned a two-page paper on one important thing we did this summer. It's due Monday which puts a damper on the weekend plans. I wasn't planning on dragging myself home until late Sunday night but if I have a paper to write, I'll need to be home and on my computer, pretending like I know what I'm doing.
Fenton's one of the last ones out of the classroom and my teammates block the door with wolfish grins and snickers as he tries to push past. Eventually, Lancer looks up from the board and tells them to move out of the way. Fenton looks like he wants to kiss the ground Lancer walks on as he slips out of the door, making serious tracks to the parking lot.
I yank my backpack up from where I dropped it on the floor and join my teammates on the way out of the room, slapping Jeff on the back as I pass by him. "You looked like you were shitting yourself when Lancer was lecturing you," I jibe, grinning at the way his eyebrows draw down.
"Sh-Shut up!" he responds, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow. "Dude, that guy's fucking scary, okay? I heard he failed an entire class last semester, the dude's mental."
I roll my eyes, not even bothering to ask where he heard that bull. Jeff believes anything he hears and the rest of us have given up trying to correct him. He'll just explain why he's right anyway so it's pointless.
We leave the school building together and split off in the direction of our own cars with promises to meet up at the party and take shots in honor of the last year of football together. I know at least half of these guys are gonna end up going pro and I'll watch their success stories on the grainy feed from the auto-garage's old TV.
The school parking lot empties out slowly and as I ease my car out behind the line of others waiting, I catch sight of Fenton's car sliding forward. I try to check out his car, figure out the make and model, but movement in the driver's seat pulls my attention back to him. He sits back in the seat, his eyes falling to his phone. I watch him pick it up from the center console and press it to his ear, his eyebrows drawing down as he talks.
When the car behind me beeps, I snap my gaze back up to the line that's moved forward by several cars. As I press the gas pedal, I glance toward Fenton again and he's looking my way with a curious look. Just as our eyes meet, I tear my gaze away, focusing on the road. Jesus, what's his problem?
The drive out to the auto-garage is familiar and winding, letting me relax into my seat as the radio cranks out some song I don't know the name of. It sounds like something I'd listen to so I don't bother changing it. My hands tap the steering wheel in time to the music as I make the turn onto the backroad that leads straight to the garage.
Everyone in this town gets their cars fixed and tuned up at Alex's garage. Why shouldn't they? He's a hard worker and his prices are dirt cheap. I was a little shell-shocked when I started working there and was paid over the minimum wage requirement.
The brakes in my car shriek at me again as I pull into a space and I watch Alex's head rise from where he's instructing someone, his hands instantly going to his hips as I kill the engine on my car. I open the door as he starts toward the front of the shop, shaking his head as he runs his fingers through his hair.
"Left my uniform at home so I'll borrow the set in the back again. You still got that one, yeah?" I ask, breezing past him before he can stop me.
"Dash, come on, you're not supposed to be working today," Alex responds, trailing after me. Two customers are talking to Alex's sister, Anastasia, about the state of their car. One glance has me guessing a tune up but considering the busted up front, maybe they cracked something. "Dash, go home, you're not on the schedule today."
"Forget the schedule, man," I respond, moving past a few of my coworkers on my way to the small air conditioned office. As soon as I'm inside, Alex in tow, I discard my phone and keys onto the desk, kicking my shoes off. "Seriously. I need to do something to get rid of this boredom."
I grab the spare set of coveralls with no nametag stitched onto it and unzip it. I've just wrestled it off the hanger when Alex puts his hand on my shoulder with an exhale. "Dash." I flick my gaze up to his with the mention of my name but I shrug his hand off of me, taking a step back so I can get into the uniform.
"What?" I ask, putting one leg in first before the other. The smooth fabric glides over my jeans as I tug it up around my waist, noting that this one fits a little snugger than my regular ones. I shrug it off, pulling it onto my arms, the material catching on fading scrapes, lifting the scabs away from the healing skin. My hand finds the zipper and I pinch my index finger and thumb around the tab, pulling it up to the base of my neck with that satisfying zip noise.
Alex sighs with a grumble, shaking his head again. "You're not… you're not working today, Dash," he says, attempting to sound stern but he doesn't fool me. One look in his eyes and sympathy is all I can see swimming in them.
"Don't," I barely get out before his hands are back on my shoulders again, squeezing like I need some sort of fucking comfort or something. I don't need him to say anything. I don't want him to bring up any of the shit I'm avoiding while I'm here.
"I know it's hard at your house. And I know you hate going home when you don't have to. But I gave you this week off for a reason," he says, holding my gaze despite how much I want to look away from him. "You're supposed to be settling into your first week back at school. This is your senior year in case you forgot."
I shrug his hands off me. "How could I?" I grumble, fixing the lapels of the coveralls before grabbing my phone and keys from the desk, depositing the latter into the drawer Alex lets me keep my shit in and slipping the former into my pocket. "Come on, just a couple of hours. You don't even have to add this on to my paycheck. Just consider it payback for the spring."
His hand catches my elbow as I try to leave and despite not wanting to, I turn back toward him. I meet his gaze still filled with sympathy and pity and everything I don't want to see from him. Or anyone.
"Dash," he says softly, his expression oozing sympathy and making my skin crawl. I can't deal with this from anyone on a good day. I can't take it from Alex. "You know I don't expect any sort of payback. What happened in spring was… that was for you. I didn't do it so you'd owe me."
"Whatever," I respond, pushing his hand off me again and immediately putting distance between us. "I'll just check a few cars, work a couple hours and get going, alright?" He still looks like he might try to stop me so I roll my eyes. "And just for you, I'll start on my English paper as soon as I get home, alright?"
A smile eases its way onto his face and he nods, finally letting me go from the office and back into the garage. The scent of oil and grease is like coming home and I easily locate the red toolbox I've been using since I started working here almost three years ago. This place has become more of a home to me than the house I share with my dad and I wonder how different I would have turned out if I hadn't found this place. How fucked up would I be if I didn't have this escape? Well, this and football.
I sink down onto a stool, sifting through the toolbox to make sure I've got everything I need. Last time Stephen worked my shift, he left half my tools all over the garage. Took me fifteen minutes to track them all down and I haven't let him forget it.
Someone pulls up at the edge of the garage and I look up at the sound, dropping my wrench back into the toolbox. I grab a clean rag and a pencil and shove the rag into the front pocket of my uniform, whistling as I make my way toward the person getting out of the car.
Valerie's head pokes out of the car and I tuck the pencil stub behind my ear as I make my way toward her. She looks up at me and offers the smallest of smiles as we meet in the middle between the garage and her car. "Hey," she says softly.
The sheer compassion I can see on her face makes my throat tighten and I take in a couple of forced breaths to make sure I'm not about to embarrass myself. Last time she saw me I was bawling my fucking eyes out in her lap and I'm not repeating that.
"Hey," I respond, folding my arms over my chest in attempt to feel stronger. Or maybe just look it. Whichever works. I nod toward her car, hoping this is something I can easily fix so she can be on her way. "What'cha bringing Patricia in for?"
She rolls her eyes, mirroring my posture when she crosses her arms. "I still can't believe you name cars." Valerie glances back toward her car with a huff before focusing on me again, the smile never leaving her face. "Just gotta get the oil changed. Dad's been nagging on me to do it since the start of the summer."
"It's been longer than that since you've had it changed," I respond, brushing past her. Some people don't know how to treat their cars and it just makes tune-up's harder. Jesus, you'd think they'd have more respect for their vehicle. "Gimme the keys and I'll drive her in." I hold out my hand and she gestures toward the car.
"In the ignition," she says and I pop the door of her car open. Sinking down into the driver's seat the scene from the summer, just before she left for her internship, plays through in my head. Her fingers carding through my hair, shushing my obnoxious cries and broken, pathetic sobs. The memory burns at the back of my throat and makes my hands clench around the steering wheel.
It's been a while since I've felt that pathetic. The only one who usually gets to see me like that is myself. Occasionally Kwan but it's been weeks. Things haven't been so bad. At least, that's what I tell him. As long as I don't show up with bruises, he'll still think everything's fine.
Valerie steps out of the way as I creep the car forward into the shop, sandwiching it between Lisa and Tracy – a Chevrolet Cobalt and a Jeep Wrangler. I kill the engine and take the keys from the ignition. I bounce them between my hands as Valerie follows me up into the shop and when she's close enough, I toss them to her.
She catches them easily and I gesture toward the waiting area on the other side of the garage. "Waiting area's over there, like always," I say, opening up the hood of her Toyota Prius. "Should only take me twenty minutes so it won't be a long wait."
Instead of going over to the waiting area, she hops onto the stool closest to my work space, dragging a grumble out of me. "Oh come on, I won't get in the way," she says with a grin when I look back at her. Something tells me that's exactly what she'll do.
"Fine, just… don't distract me," I respond with more bite to my words than I intended. It doesn't change the expression on her face so I don't care. I just kick the nearest floor jack over to her car before kneeling down on the concrete of the shop to locate the tow hooks. As soon as I get the jack positioned how it needs to be, I start pumping it until the front of her car lifts high enough off the concrete.
I leave it the way it is and move around to the side of her vehicle, sliding a stand under it to keep it supported. After a push or two to make sure it's not gonna go sliding off the jack and crush my skull in, I grab my faded shop creeper, flopping onto it with a sigh. I drag my toolbox with me and slide underneath her car, scanning the underside to find the drain plug.
The silence is thick in the shop and even though I can hear the chatter of my coworkers talking to the customer's they're with, it's not enough to quiet the way my heartbeat rings in my ears. "H-How was your internship?" I find the courage to say, glad I don't have to look at her when I ask that.
I locate the drain plug and dig a wrench from my toolbox, positioning it around the plug. I twist once but stop when I hear Valerie clear her throat. My hands still on the tool and I slowly draw in a breath.
"It was good. The bosses were impressed with my performance and thought I really had a knack for this," she says softly. Her voice is always soft when she talks about her passion. No one in their right mind would admit to wanting to be a part of the government's ecto-threat division. It took Valerie a long time to admit it to me and we've known each other since we were twelve. When her parents lived on the same street as mine and we had backyard barbecues every summer.
I grunt in response, twisting the drain plug again until it pops off. The oil sprays into a tray I push under it at the last second and some of it splashes up onto the side of my face. I stare at the draining oil for a minute before I roll out from under the car, not meeting Valerie's eyes when I look her way. "So, you think you're a shoo-in for the position next year?" I ask, my gaze never rising higher than her collarbones.
Her shoulder's shrug and I take that as my cue to move on. "Uh… can you hand me that oil filter wrench?" I ask, gesturing toward it. She picks up what I'm looking for and turns back to me with a questioning glance. I nod and hold my hand out for it.
"I don't know if I'm exactly a shoo-in," she replies when I take the tool from her. She leans back against the stool but doesn't get back on it, staring out into the garage as I roll back under the car. It takes a couple of tries before I manage to get the wrench around the oil filter, twisting until I think I have an aneurysm before it comes loose.
Oil sprays down onto the concrete and the steady dripping distracts me momentarily from the conversation. Any time my head's under a car or hood, it makes me forget about everything else. The smell of oil and gasoline is soothing to me and I can pretend that nothing else matters for a little while. I think that's one of the reasons Alex let me stay.
"Yeah?" I ask, watching the oil continue out of the side of the filter. "What makes you say that? Somebody else have a higher chance?" From the dedication Valerie shows in her other areas of life, I'm guessing if someone beat her out, it's because they cheated or they know someone that she doesn't. The oil finishes dripping out of the filter and I take it completely off, dropping it into the tray where the oil is still draining.
"I guess…"
From what I can see, she's scuffing the pavement with the toe of her shoe, kind of a nervous habit she's had as long as I've known her. It was with her every day she was in the hospital with her mom when I brought by food from the local deli and her homework assignments. Her mouth would smile but her feet would toe the ground, reminding me that she was afraid. I think we were both waiting for some sort of miracle and almost ran out the breath we were holding when it didn't happen.
I slide out from under the car to look at her. This time, I don't keep my eyes from hers and the sadness that was there two summers ago is still in her eyes and it makes my chest ache. I draw in a breath and rise from the creeper. I take the rag from my pocket and wipe off the oil on my fingertips before reaching across the distance between us to squeeze her shoulder, waiting until she looks up at me to give her a rare smile. "You'll get it. There's no one in the world that cares more about this shit than you do."
She smiles in response, nodding her head thanks. I return the rag to my pocket and leave to move further into the shop, trying to locate an oil filter. My eyes are scanning the shelves when she calls out to me. I spare a glance over my shoulder and she slides back onto the stool, kicking her legs forward.
Valerie tucks a strand of hair behind one ear. "Have you thought any more about your future?" she asks, in that delicate way she always does. It reminds me that she thinks I could stretch for more when I'm just fine settling.
I grin, gesturing to the walls that make up this shop. My home away from home. "You're looking at my future, baby." I only laugh when she rolls her eyes, knowing that she still doesn't get it and probably never will. Kwan doesn't either. My teammates, girlfriend's, teachers and even Alex don't understand it. The higher you reach, the further you fall when you fail.
A/N: Thank you all for the reviews you've left me and the messages you've sent me. I really appreciate the feedback. Updates will be every other Tuesday for those of you that were curious. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed!
