Fifteen | ✓

seven

Christopher owned a car.

Wasn't that supposed to be a good thing? To Catherine it was, until a little ways into the journey it started to judder and produce intermittent splutters as if it had been ready to give in and splatter all its parts across the interstate.

"Aw come on!" He laughed upon seeing her horrified expression. "It isn't that bad. I am deeply offended, Sketch."

"'Isn't that bad?'" She mocked in high volume. "This is a locomotive death trap!"

"A little over dramatic aren't we?" He smirked, and it infuriated Catherine that he wasn't taking her at all seriously.

"Hey!" She had half the mind to reach over the center console to slap his arm, but for fear of releasing the safety bar above her head, she refrained.

"It's what I can afford," said Christopher in a slightly off tone. Was he annoyed? "A jalopy isn't the most luxurious of cars but it does the job decently and that's what matters."

She opened her mouth to apologize but was interrupted as the sun visor came loose and smacked her on the head. "Ow!"

Her exclamation was overshadowed by Christopher's thunderous laughter, the pain in her skull subtly residing at the sight of his brighter eyes and happy face. "You see? You made the car mad. She just had to hit you for revenge. Should've seen that one coming, really."

"She? Your car has gender?" Catherine raised an eyebrow humourously. As she rubbed her scalp she could feel a small lump forming.

"She has a name," he defended with mock hurt. "Please do not objectify her."

"Forgive me, Sensei."

He nodded solemnly. "You are pardoned, young grasshopper. But from today onwards, this car must be addressed by the name of Rebecca."

Catherine let out a laugh. "Rebecca? Really? Who names their car Rebecca?" She backtracked. "Who even names their car?"

Christopher pouted, jabbing his thumb toward himself. "I do!" A sly smirk then dominated his features. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Really? Of a car? You really don't know any better, in fact."

He laughed, using his elbow to nudge her shoulder and momentarily sending Rebecca swerving on the road. "Come on, I won't judge you. Come on..."

"Christopher!"

His guffaws drew out until they lapsed into breathless wheezes, him blotting the corner of his eye with an index finger. "You're fun to mess with, Sketch. We should really hang out more often."

A fluttery sensation erupted in her tummy and she tried her best to calm it down. "Must you always call me 'Sketch'? You even address your car by a proper noun."

"Jealous!" sang Christopher before sobering up. "Why? What's wrong with Sketch? Don't you like it?"

She didn't have anything in particular against the nickname Sketch. She even found it endearing at times.

But other times it made her feel smaller and childlike in comparison to Christopher's (occasional) maturity, never mind the fact that they were just a few years apart.

She wasn't sure how best she'd explain that, so she brushed it off instead. "Oh, it's nothing. Never mind."

Catherine knew that Christopher sensed there was something, contradicting her pronounced nothing, because she felt the weight of his gaze upon her shoulders, and how much it weighed her down.

"Eyes on the road!" She suddenly screamed. "You're going to wreck Patricia!"

And kill us.

"It's Rebecca!" He whined, much to her relief refocusing on the road ahead. White markings disappeared underneath them, making it look like the car was eating through the street. "But we're getting there. It's a process after all. One step at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day-"

"I could punch your face in a day, which may most possibly be today if you're lucky."

He maintained silence afterward.

•••

They arrived at the movie theater early, Rebecca skidding clumsily to a stop and scarcely missing a fire hydrant.

"You really should get your car checked out before you get yourself into an accident," Catherine was saying as they entered the building.

"Rebecca doesn't need fixing; she isn't broken."

"She'll get you broken soon."

Catherine had muttered the last part quietly to herself but in spite of that, Christopher had heard it and chuckled quietly to himself.

She looked at the concessions stand at the far corner of the room, then mused, "I've never bought a lollipop to watch a movie before."

"Me neither." He abruptly whipped his head to face her, his brown eyes wide. "Do you know what this means?" Before she could answer he continued, "We shall do just that today!" 

He then stood akimbo, gazing at the sky (or the multiplex's grimy ceiling) with a fire of determination in superhero-esque fashion.

"Don't you think you're being just a little overdramatic over simple lollipops?"

"Nothing is too dramatic when lollipops are concerned."

As Catherine plucked an orange sweet from the stand, she was somewhat surprised when she turned to see Christopher brandishing a purple one.

"Purple?"

"Is there anything wrong with purple?"

She let her sight wander over the blues and reds and greens of the other candies, and as Christopher tailed down her gaze, he said huskily, "You're right; I should pick something more manly."

She waited for him at the movie gate entrance, and as he returned with a vibrant pink lollipop, he grinned widely and took her hand in his.

Her heart conducted a series of somersaults before jumping straight into her trachea and lodging itself there, making her breathing difficult. She hoped he could not feel the clamminess of her palms despite the air conditioning.

Friends were supposed to hold hands, right?