10. Freaking Out
“You look like a little overheated.”
“I just got out of gym.”
The red Jeep Wrangler rattles over the winding mountain road. It’s pretty beaten up, both inside and out. The ragtop above me has a fist-sized hole in it. Jocelyn’s driving makes me more nervous than the confrontation I narrowly escaped.
“People don’t shower after gym where you come from?”
“Actually I just had a run-in with Gus and his friends.”
For a moment she stares at me while we ride around a steep corner. I’m about ready to tell her to look at the road when she finally does and then drives far over into the oncoming lane. Maybe she doesn’t know that there are two lanes on this road even though no line cuts into the black asphalt.
“What happened?”
“I think he wanted to make up for our last interaction.”
“When you stuck up for Newt?”
I nod.
The Jeep slows down a bit. Jocelyn glances over at me. “Chris … you don’t want to mess around with him.”
“Everybody keeps telling me that.”
“You don’t.”
“I was getting ready to leave. He and his posse came out of nowhere.”
“And what’d you do?”
“I escaped. And ran fast.”
“Was Ali there?”
“Yeah.”
“He beat up a kid really bad at a party last summer. Don’t mess around with him, either.”
“Let me state again, I’m not messing around with any of them. It was just—when I saw Gus do that to the poor little guy, I couldn’t help it.”
Once again, I see that look.
That look—there’s something that she gives away. Something deep inside. Something that’s there that I can’t exactly explain or pinpoint. But it’s beneath the beauty and the guarded expression and the air and everything else that makes up Jocelyn.
I’d like to think that it’s interest.
Not just a “hey you’re kinda cute” interest.
More of a common-bond kind of interest.
More like a “I get it and I get you” sort of thing.
There’s something deeper down there.
I know this.
“It was a cool thing to do,” she says to me. “But it was stupid.”
“What’s the big deal about Gus anyway?”
“His father owns half of Solitary, if not more.”
“So he’s rich.”
“Not just that. The Staunch family has its hands in everything around here. Everything.”
“Okay. So what?”
“You live here, Chris. You live in Solitary.”
“Yeah?”
She shakes her head and starts to say something, then remains silent.
“What?”
I can tell she’s searching her thoughts.
“You have to be careful, just know that.”
“I will,” I say as if I don’t have a care in the world.
“They’ll hurt you and get away with it. It’s not like where you come from.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” she says. “I know very well.”
“I’m not looking for trouble.”
“But you’re wearing it with a capital letter on your chest. The best thing you can do is disappear.”
“I already sorta feel like I have, coming here. You should see the street I live on.”
“I’m serious, Chris. There are things about this place that you just can’t—that I couldn’t even explain to you. You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“No.”
Her response is short and swift, like a slap in the face.
“Okay.”
For a few minutes, we drive. I tell her the roads to take to reach my cabin.
“I’m sorry,” she says eventually.
“It’s fine.”
“You’re a good guy.”
I chuckle. “How do you know that?”
“I can tell.”
“You don’t know.”
“Yes, I do. I know. I just know.”
“Hey, the second street up there—past the sign—is mine.”
Her face turns pale and registers disbelief.
“What?” I ask. I don’t get anything about this day. Everything is just off.
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure where I live? Yeah. Steeple Drive.”
“Your cabin is on this road?”
“Is it just me, or is everything I’m saying slightly freaking you out?”
Jocelyn seems annoyed and doesn’t say anything else as we drive down the road.
As we approach my driveway, I alert her to stop. Instead, she keeps driving.
“Uh, we just passed my driveway.”
Those eyes stay focused straight ahead as the car zips along the dirt road until we eventually come upon the gate.
“I was going to tell you—there’s a gate at the end of this drive,” I say.
“The road on the other side of that gate leads to a rather large mansion. Want to know who it belongs to?” Her voice is angry.
I don’t say anything.
“It belongs to your neighbor and dear friend, Gus Staunch. How’s that for being freaked out.”
“Seriously?”
She puts the car in reverse and zips it around, whipping my head against the side.
“Whoa,” I say, taking the wheel for a minute.
“Don’t you dare touch me!”
The Jeep jets down the street.
“I was touching the wheel.”
We reach my driveway and she jams on the breaks, skidding the car to a halt. If I weren’t wearing my seat belt, my lips would be stuck to the window.
“Jocelyn, what’s going on here?”
“Get out.”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t—I was just trying to help—”
“I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your comments.”
“This is all new to me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not your guidance counselor. You need to stay away from people who will hurt you, you got that?”
“Okay, fine.”
“That includes me.”
Again I’m stopped in my tracks, my mouth surely about ready to say something.
“Get out.”
I obey. I climb out of the Jeep and stand in my driveway and listen as it rumbles down the road and away from me.