The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 18 - Tool

When classes ended, I rushed out of school and into the student parking lot. Part of me braced for a letdown, and when I saw Brittany leaning casually against her lime green Beetle, at first I couldn’t believe she’d showed. She smiled at me, and the day lit up like sunlight couldn’t wait to touch her.

I stood mesmerized by her face, pale and perfect beneath her spiky black hair. Her lips shone bright pink today. She wore a sweater that clung to every curve, a short black skirt, and tights with pink peace signs on them. There was a hole at her knee. The memory of bruises and scrapes on her leg dampened my mood.

She broke the spell by walking around to the driver’s side. I climbed into the passenger seat. The car’s interior was faded beige, but only the roof and the seats remained that way. Bumper stickers covered the doors and the entire dashboard. Friends help you move, real friends help you move bodies. All generalizations are false, including this one. If you are telepathic, think HONK. Suburbia: Where they tear out the trees and then name streets after them. They layered one another, cut out around gauges and door handles. The effect was like a steamer trunk my mother bought once. Decoupage, she called it.

Brittany started the car; music rattled the speakers. I recognized The Pink Spiders, although I didn’t usually listen to them.

“Seatbelts,” she said as she buckled her own.

I hurried to comply. “Nice car.”

“Thanks. It’s old, but I love it.” She looked behind as she pulled out of the parking spot. “My dad got it for my sixteenth birthday. Sort of a peace offering, I guess. I don’t see him much.”

“He doesn’t live with you?”

“He lives in Georgia, thank the maker. That’s where I’m from. Only been in Florida a few years. My mother, my little brother, and I live with my dad’s father. Grandpa Earle. You’ll meet him. He’s cool.”

I nodded, trying not to stare. I couldn’t believe I was in the car sitting next to her. Her scent rolled over me. I smelled her skin, her breath, her hair gel, and the fabric softener on her sweater. She smelled great.

The Pink Spiders turned into Death Cab for Cutie. I relaxed, bobbing with the music. I resisted the urge to hang my head out the open window and catch the breeze. I’d never been happier.

We stopped at a light.

“There’s that new tattoo parlor everyone’s talking about.” She motioned with her chin. “As if we needed another.”

“You don’t like tattoos?”

“They’re fine. On other people. As an art form, they can be amazing. I saw a tat of a girl’s boyfriend once, and you could recognize him. But they’re just so permanent. I might get one, and two months later, I might not be that person anymore. I can’t be restricted like that.”

“You don’t have to get someone’s face.” I couldn’t bring myself to repeat the word boyfriend.

“Same difference. Say I got a butterfly with green wings.”

She emphasized the word green, and with a start, I realized she had green eyes.

“Two months down the road, I decide my favorite color is purple. Green and purple don’t go.” The light changed, and she made a left turn. “Butterflies are lame, anyway.”

I chuckled, although I wasn’t sure she was joking. I could hear my uncle say what girl doesn’t like butterflies. After a moment, I surprised myself by asking, “What about piercings?”

She flashed a smile. “Body piercings are all about other people’s pleasure. Think about it. That’s all they’re for. And I’m just not into making everyone else happy. I’m still trying to figure out me.”

“Me, too,” I murmured.

She smiled again. I sighed, memorizing her lips and the curve of her nose.

“You like Drop Dead, Gorgeous?” she asked.

“They’re all right.” I tried to get my mind back into the conversation. “I prefer Lamb of God. Green Day.”

“Tool?” she asked.

I nodded, and she pressed seek on her XM until she found the station. All Tool all the time.

Moments later, we were out of the city. I saw stables and barns. And a sign that read Sunspot Naturist Resort.

I kind of yelped. “You live at a nudist colony?” Embarrassment coursed through me. I couldn’t take my clothes off in front of her. Not unless she did it first.

“We live next to it.” She leaned forward as she pulled onto a narrow dirt road. “Grandpa Earle sold them some land a while back. He wasn’t too happy about it. But what can you do, you know?”

Through the trees, I saw a white, two-story house with an overhanging roof and a screened-in porch. In the shaded yard, a man sat on a lawn chair.

Brittany pulled around the side to a carport and parked next to an old camper. Its tires were flat, and it was coated with dust.

“You like camping?” I asked.

“Never been. Grandpa Earle took my brother a couple times when we first moved down. But being the butt crack he is, he wore that out right quick.” She hopped out and stepped to the front of the Beetle to retrieve her books from the trunk. “I keep saying I’m going to get a backpack for all this.”

“My uncle got me one with Scooby Doo on the front,” I blurted, and then wished I hadn’t. She laughed, and I shrugged. “Well, who doesn’t like Scooby Doo?”

She laughed again. “Where are your books, now?”

“I finished everything in school.”

“You’re quick,” she said. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”