American Girl

Kansas

Stella Arbuckle didn't particularly like Jake Maxwell, but she liked his car. When he pulled up to their school in a brand-new Corvette, she wanted to ride in it.

"Hi, Jake," Stella greeted, leaning against the driver's door. Her smile widened.

Jake gripped the red steering wheel. Nobody at school paid much attention to him. He was a loner from his earliest days. His broody attitude drove away any potential friendships. On ordinary days, Stella avoided him. He knew she was attracted to his car, not him.

"Hello, Stella," he finally said. He couldn't open the door with her leaning against it. Instead, he looked at her expectantly.

"Is it your birthday?" Stella asked, leaning forward to look at the dashboard.

"No." His answer was short, clipped.

"Nice new car," she commented, ignoring his tone.

"Thank you." Jake didn't provide further information about his Corvette. His Uncle Wally passed away recently, leaving him a few thousand dollars in inheritance. He put most of the money away for college and spent the rest on a new car.

Stella continued to lean against the door. Jake cracked it open and pushed it enough to brush her legs. She didn't take the hint. When he pushed it a little harder, she gave him a surly look but stepped back. He slid off the driver's seat and stood. Stella sat down immediately and ran her hand over the new red interior.

"Beautiful," Stella breathed, making herself comfortable.

Jake glared down at her. He hadn't invited her into his Corvette. He didn't like her sitting there, running her hands on his new possession. The high school bell rang, and Stella continued to sit.

"Do you mind?" he asked abruptly.

Stella looked up at him. Jake's shoulders sank. He began to lose patience.

"Get out of my car," he ordered.

"Oh. Humph. Well." Stella exclaimed with indignity. She stood, and Jake slammed the door. Holding her head high, she marched away.

Jake watched her departure. She walked toward the school's entrance, her poodle skirt swaying above her bobby socks. When she reached the steps, she stopped and looked back at him. Her blond bangs hung above her eyebrows; the rest of her hair gathered in a ponytail. Stella was a pretty girl but not his type.

After school ended, he found her standing beside the convertible. Rolling his eyes, Jake approached her. He glared at her, then, without opening the door, vaulted onto the driver's seat. Stella raced around the car and took the passenger side. She grinned widely.

"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Let's go."

Her complacency irked Jake. Leaning forward, he turned the key and gripped the steering wheel. Stella looked at him expectantly. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the Corvette shot into traffic. Dodging oncoming traffic, Jake spun the steering wheel and plummeted down a side street. Tires squealed on the pavement. Stella turned white and gripped the seat edges.

Jake took another corner at high speed. The Corvette rocked from side to side. Horns blared, but the sports car continued at breakneck speed. Finally, Jake braked in front of the high school. Stella threw back her head and laughed.

Jake picked Stella up before school the following day. They drove to school together and then went to the malt shop after classes let out. Stella clung to Jake like a second skin. Before long, they were going steady.

"You know what this car needs?" Stella asked, wrapping her arms around Jake. She kissed his shoulder and flashed her baby-blue eyes at him. They sat at the drive-in movie. Marlon Brando appeared on the screen, but Stella didn't notice the film.