AWESOME. NOT ONLY have I lost my phone and unknowingly conspired to commit a felony, but I am now trapped in said stolen car with two people who won’t stop fighting.
I hate that they’re fighting.
The first day I saw Jesse and Vicks was the day I spent job hunting, looking for anything that didn’t mean working for my dad. They were in their gray and white Waffle shirts and bow ties, and Jesse was pulling Vicks by the hand through the restaurant, howling with laughter. Right that second, I decided I wouldn’t mind working at the Waffle.
It was so good to see a friendship that was based on something more than matching sheepskin coats.
But is it possible they don’t really have that?
No. No way. They love each other. They need each other. They just have to apologize to each other and move on.
I scroll through my iPod, find the Feist song I’m looking for, and press “play.”
“I’m sorry…”
Oh, yeah. How can they not feel sorry when they’re listening to this song? It’s psychologically impossible!
“—When I realize I was acting all wrong—”
Vicks has one hand on the steering wheel, blasé. Jesse is staring out the window in the back. Why are they not apologizing?
Maybe it’s too low-key. I need something more dancey. Something to get them pumped up.
Aha! I know! I find Will Smith’s “Miami” and press “play.” Oh, yeah. C’mon. We’re going to Miami!
Party in the city where the heat is on,
All night on the beach till the break of dawn—
No acknowledgment, except for a big sigh from Jesse.
“Do we have any Ho Hos left?” Vicks asks, like she doesn’t even hear the music. “Oh, never mind. I’m not really in the mood.”
Not in the mood for fun, obviously.
Fun! That’s it! That’s Plan C. Silly me, why didn’t I think of this before? New song. Great song. A classic. I crank the volume on baby-voiced Cyndi Lauper. “I come home in the middle of the night—”
I start grooving in my seat, just a little, because how can anyone hear this song and not dance? “‘But girls, they want to have fun,’” I sing. “‘Oh girls—’”
“Not Jesse,” Vicks says. “Other girls maybe. Like me, for example. I love fun.”
I sneak a look back at Jesse, and she looks pained. I glance over at Vicks. She’s not happy, either.
I press “stop.”
I adjust my shorts, which are riding up a bit. I pick at a chapped spot on my lip.
But I’ve got to do something. We can’t just drive like this forever, all doom and gloom and hot hot hot.
Hot! Weather! It worked so well last night, when I was sitting outside with—
No, my brain says.
So I don’t.
But still, weather is…weather. It’s multipurpose.
“So,” I begin. “Sure is hot here, eh?”
“It’s Florida,” Vicks points out.
Jesse lets out another epic sigh. “It’s fixing to pour.”
“Is it?” I say. I peer through the windshield, and see that, yes, there are a whole bunch of dark clouds cluttering the sky. “We need to be optimistic,” I say, trying to keep my voice peppy. “Oh! I know just the song. A little ‘Walking on Sunshine,’ ladies?” I scroll through my music, press “play.” As soon as the words kicks in, I sing along.
Jesse swivels her head to look at me. Her expression is forlorn. “Mel, can you turn it off? Please? My head is killing me.”
I hit the power button and slump against the seat.
I miss the snow.