Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“And what if you don’t find her? Then you’ll be heading back to Hazelton after dark, by yourself. People get mugged all the time, Lainey. You kids need to stop thinking you’re invincible.”

I slouch down in my seat. “But she’s mad at me. She’ll be even more mad if I don’t show up.”

“I don’t care. Call her and tell her you’re not coming. Tell her I grounded you for letting her take Steve’s car if you want.”

I give my mom a sideways glance. “You want me to lie?”

She winks at me. “You want me to really ground you?”

I call Kendall. She doesn’t answer. I leave a quick voice mail telling her I won’t be able to make the party and asking her to call me back. Then I try Jason.

He picks up right away. “Lainey,” he says, like he’s surprised to hear from me. “What’s going on?”

“Your sister took my brother’s car to some party at Wash U,” I say. “I’m supposed to meet her but now I can’t and she’s not answering her phone. She’s kind of pissed at me, so that might be all it is, but I feel bad leaving her by herself.”

Jason swears under his breath. “Our dad coming to town has made her half crazy, I think. So far she refuses to even talk about him. Do you know where this party was supposed to be?”

“Like a block off campus on Pershing Avenue? She said it was being thrown by a friend of a friend of someone she met on So You Think You Can Model.”

“Okay. I’ll track her down. Thanks for calling me.”

“No problem. When you talk to her, tell her I’m sorry.”

“Sure. Hey, we made the play-offs partially thanks to you,” Jason says. “Games the next two Saturdays. Give me a call if you’re interested in filling in.”

“I am completely and utterly interested in filling in,” I say. Maybe it’ll be a little awkward playing with Jason, but if he’s willing to give it a shot, so am I. “Let me just check my Denali schedule and get back to you.”

“Sounds good. I’ll make sure Kendall returns the car in one piece.”

“Thanks, Jay. Bye.”

“So are things back on with Jason?” my mom asks after I hang up the phone. I can tell she’s curious.

“Nah. But hopefully we can be friends.” I fiddle with the buckle of my seat belt.

She turns onto our street. “I see.” She doesn’t press me for details.

Which I bet is hard for her, considering that she prides herself on being one of those “cool moms” who their kids can talk to. “Have I told you lately how awesome you are?” I ask.

She laughs. “Not in the last five years or so.”

“You’re pretty awesome.” I watch the neighbors’ houses roll by through the passenger window. A sheepdog frolics on one of the front lawns. A dog could be fun. Maybe if I do end up staying in Hazelton to go to college I could get one. That might make living at home worth it.

My mom swings her car around onto our driveway. My dad is out on the lawn watering his herb garden. He swears it has parsley, basil, cilantro, and oregano, but it all looks like the same leafy, green stuff to me.

“How did you know Dad was the guy for you?” I blurt out. These are normally the types of stories I avoid, but it occurs to me that as similar as my parents act sometimes, they’ve definitely got their differences.

My mom chuckles. She turns off the engine but makes no move to get out of the car. “Your grandparents were less than thrilled with my choice,” she starts. “Everyone in my family had gone to college. Your dad was just a high school grad working at his family business.” She exhales long and slow. “I had my own worries, I admit.”

Dad flashes an impish grin at us and turns the hose on the car, sending a thunderous spray of water against the driver’s-side window.

“I can’t imagine why.” I snicker. “So what made you stick with him?”

She looks over at me and her lips quirk into a smile. “I wish I had a concrete answer for you. Like maybe I walked into Denali one day to study and saw your father cutting apart the plastic six-pack rings to save baby animals, and then in that instant I knew it was love.” She pats me on the knee. “But it wasn’t like that. I liked being with him, but there were things that scared me. Then one day none of it seemed to matter anymore.”

My dad disappears into the garage. Mom glances over at me. “Nothing changed, and yet things were different.” She shrugs. “Maybe I changed.”

It makes me think of Micah and me on the patio at Beat—how all of my fears melted away in that moment. How nothing mattered except for being with him. Maybe it’s too late for that, but it can’t be too late for us to be friends. I guess because some things are worth it. I’m going to talk to him the next time I see him, even if it scares me.

I slide out of the car and shut the door behind me. “Dad really cuts apart the six-pack rings to save baby animals?”

My mom shakes her head. “No, I saw that in a movie once, but hey, a girl can dream.”

Kendall shows up with Steve’s car—in one piece—around eleven thirty. I’m already in my sweats and ready for bed when I see the headlights slow to a stop outside my window. I peek my head into the study and tell my mom Steve’s car is fine and that I’m going to drive Kendall home. Mom is surrounded by notes and books as usual. “All right,” she says. “Be careful.”

I intercept Kendall on the way to the porch and steer her back to the Civic. She starts bitching before I even pull away from the curb. “I can’t believe you called Jason.” She slurs her words and I don’t have to lean very close to her to smell the liquor on her breath. “He said if I wasn’t home by midnight he and my dad were going to come find me.”

“I was worried about you, for good reason apparently. I can’t believe you drove my brother’s car drunk.”

She adjusts the passenger seat to make more room for her long legs. “I’m not drunk, Lainey. I just had a few shots. Big deal.”

“Big deal? Are you kidding me?” I back down the driveway and turn out onto our street. “What if you got arrested? What if you got in an accident and killed somebody?”

Kendall tosses her hair back over her shoulders. “What if you stopped being so dramatic?”

“Okay then.” I turn left out of my subdivision and head for the highway. “What if you simply wrecked my brother’s car? He freaking loves this thing like a baby.”

“This piece of shit is probably not even worth five grand.” She stares straight ahead through the windshield. “He needs to get over it.”

“No. You need to get over it,” I say. “Just because you don’t think something is worth caring about, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to agree.”

Her eyes narrow as she glances over at me. “Are we still talking about the car?”

The words strike like a whip, but this isn’t about Micah, and I’m not going to let her bait me. “You know how cops are around here. They won’t just write you the minor possession. You’ll get a DWI too.” I merge on to the highway. “Do you want to get arrested? I know you’re pissed at your dad—”

“Stop trying to play therapist,” Kendall says coolly. “You don’t know shit about my family.”

And that’s Kendall, the girl who lectured me about how best friends should tell each other everything. And like I said, she never tells me anything. Never lets her guard down.

“I could though,” I say softly. “If you would talk to me. I’m trying to be your friend here, K.”

“If you were trying to be my friend, you would’ve come to the party with me tonight. Maybe I wanted to talk to you about my dad, but now I don’t feel like it.” Kendall flips the radio on and makes a face at the music.