Tongue Tied

Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

After our meeting, I dial dad's number up for a ride. Please pick up. Nope, straight to voicemail. Let me call Craig. I dialed his number, four rings, and he's not picking up either. Shit. When am I gonna get a car? I can't call Quinn. Her 'debate practice' ended early. "Hey." I turn around, Sam's backpack slings almost off her shoulder. Why is he still here? I rub my eyelids.

"Why are you still here?" he asks as he approaches me. I rest my fist on my hip.

"Why are you still here?" I ask back.

"Really?"

"Then that answers your question. I thought I was the only one here."

"I'll give you a lift," he points to the parking lot. I can't wait for dad or Craig. Mom works from home, so she doesn't need a car. God, I need my own vehicle.

"Uh," I hesitate, picking my bottom lip with my teeth.

"Just get in the car, stop being stubborn."

I sigh, "fine." I walk over as he leads the way. It was late. I had to get home for dinner and he's my only hope. Even though I don't want him to be. I enter the passenger seat, he enters the driver's seat. He has a nice car, a black Honda. It's clean. Smells like pineapples. Oh, it's the car freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. "Where's Jessica?"

"She went home after volleyball practice," he answers. I nod. He starts the engine. I buckle in my seatbelt. The ride starts off silent. He turns on the radio to fill it. The song Bad Guy by Billie Eilish was almost over. I hum to the tune while staring out the window. This is my first time being in his car. I used to wonder what it would be like.

I sigh, looking at my phone. It's almost 4:30. I see mom's text. I text her back that I'm coming home now. I peek at him, one arm out the window and the other on the wheel. I lean my elbow on the car door, staring out the window. Straighten by The Migos comes on. Please no. I just got this out of my head.

"Can you please change the song?" I beg.

"Not a Migos fan?" He looks over to me.

"I heard it a billion times." From TV, YouTube, because it's on repeat from my brother's speakers. An earworm. It's catchy then it gets annoying. Now I'm sick of it. However, my favorite is Takeoff.

"They should be an inspiration to you. They have the confidence you lack."

"I have confidence," I scoff.

"They have stage presence, they put on a show."

"That would be Beyonce, actually."

"Beyonce exudes stage presence. Plus she's hot so no one will look away," he chuckles. 

"You're saying I have to be hot to be looked at? You're a pig."

"I'm saying you should be less timid."

Timid? I'm not- I open and close my mouth. I shake my head, "please drop me off." We were in our neighborhood. I climb out of his car, wanting to slam his car door but me being so nice I shut it gently. I step away, holding the straps of my backpack.

"See you at school Monday, Maya!" He yells out the window before reversing up to my driveway. I clench my jaw, refusing to see his face. The lights were on, dad nor Craig were not home yet. I'm not timid. I open the front door, slamming it behind me. Who the hell does he think he is?

"Hey! Stop slamming my door!" Mom says as she emerges from the bathroom.

"Sorry," I mumble, locking the top and bottom.