Night-Owl Trucking

Thursday, 3:22am

Luz checked on her speechless passenger as often as she could, sparing the occasional glance when she wasn't eyeballing the distance between Hooty's bumper and the Vanek Bros. truck ahead, or keeping track of the sporadic flow of passenger vehicles that streaked past her door. Amity had hardly blinked in the meanwhile. "Just... uh..." the tanned girl squinted slightly in concern, then gave the pale girl a tentative half-smile, "Maybe think about it?"

"Not work for—" Those pretty golden eyes looked as large as dinner plates. Amity stumbled through a follow-up question, "Leave— my ffffam–ah— the company?!"

"Yeah? You could, if you wanna," The brown-haired girl's response was light on its feet, in contrast. Why was Amity having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea? Luz would have accused her of playing up her reaction for laughs if it weren't completely out of character for the taller girl.

The green-haired girl swallowed and gave the slightest shake of her head as she croaked, "I can't."

Luz frowned. Why did she look so frightened? "Sure you can!" Luz was oozing confidence, again. After all, she knew a thing or two about a thing or two. "Lotsa kids don't stick with the family business."

"I–I— I can't do that!" Amity stammered a quick rebuttal. She was breathing quickly, now; short, shallow gasps of air whistling through her teeth.

Luz knew the possibilities were limitless for someone of Amity's caliber. "Just imagine all the—" she began, a wide smile breaking out across her face as she waved a wide-spread hand through the air.

"No!" Amity interrupted with something close to a shout, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, one hand clamped around her armrest; it might have actually creaked under her fingers. "You don't understand." She took a shuddering breath as she stretched her mouth in a deep frown.

Huh. Inner-Luz was making that slashing-hand-motion at her metaphorical throat in warning. Outer-Luz's optimism began to falter, "Well, yeah— I mean— no, I guess, but—"

"You don't know my Mother! You don't know what she's like!" Amity's voice broke halfway through her vehement accusation, and she trailed off in something close to a whimper. She blinked watery eyes and snarled, pointing a shaky finger across the cramped cabin's aisle at Luz. "You have no idea!" The pale girl turned away and hunched over the smartphone in her hand, trying to hold herself steady. She squeezed her free hand into a fist, then shook her fingers loose.

"Amity, I— I'm sorry— I didn't mean—" Luz grit her teeth and winced, trying to gauge how angry the other girl was at her thoughtless advice. The pale girl's scowl was bottom lit by the gentle glow of the device in her hand. "I overstepped there, and—"

"I am a Blight," Amity glared down at her knees, her shoulders trembling as she took another ragged breath, holding it in for a moment. "I don't have a choice!" An angry red flush had crawled up her neck and ears. "Everything... Everything... it's always for the family— for the company."

Luz cocked an eyebrow and wondered aloud, "Is that what you want, though?"

The pale girl recoiled from the question. "It— That doesn't— A Blight has obligations," Amity bared her teeth in a twisted grimace; it looked as though just saying that phrase out loud had a cost, some crumbling piece of her soul. "There are expectations for someone like me!"

Luz frowned, repeating that last bit with a look of disgust. "Someone like you?" She paused long enough to watch the rest of the color drain from Amity's face before asking, "What's that supposed to mean?"