The White Fence

32. Found Objects

            It wasn’t Derek’s car, but a dinted and very rustic looking Chevy pickup that was waiting for me when I got out of class on Friday. It was hard to tell, since most of the original paint had rusted away, but I think the truck had once been green. Derek was leaning against the side, but straightened out when he saw me, giving me what I started referring to as his ‘afternoon smile’, this slow, simmering smile that made his eyes twinkle. I called it his afternoon smile because it was the smile that greeted me when he picked me up from Mason.

            Derek handed me a piece of cloth as he held open the passenger door for me. “Put that on,” he directed.

            I held the bandana up against my body. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to fit,” I said with a smile.

            He rolled his eyes. “Put it ovuh your eyes,” he directed. “I wanna show you somethin’.”

            “How am I supposed to see anything if I’m blindfolded?”

            He waited. “Come on, Trace! We’re wastin’ daylight, here.”

            I hesitated in the doorway. “Give me a hint so that I know what I’m going into.”

            Derek surprised me by lifting me into the cab. He smiled at my shock. “Now, if I were goinna tell you where I’s taking you, do you really think I’d blindfold you first?” he questioned. He made sure my hands were clear before shutting the door.

            I leaned across to open the driver’s side door for him. “How do I know you’re not going to do anything to me? After all, my mom told me never to be alone with dangerous boys.”

            Derek laughed his way off the school grounds. “I’m dangerous,” he scoffed.

            “Who’s truck,” I wondered as we rattled along. The truck might be built to withstand an atomic explosion, but no one was about to accuse it of providing a smooth ride.

            “Daddy’s. I needed tha extra space.” At his words, I checked the bed, but whatever was back there was obscured by a tarp. Derek nodded at the scrap of fabric I still held in my hands. “Are you goinna put that on or what?”

            “I’m not sure if I trust you that much,” I declared. 

            He steadied the steering wheel with his elbows, placed his right hand over his heart, and held his left hand up, palm toward me. “I swear I’m not goin’ to kidnap you, torture you, or cause you to lose your virtue in any way, Tracy Burrows,” he recited.  

            “You forgot to say that you wouldn’t cause me bodily harm, either. The way you phrased it, dismembering is still possible.”

            He shook his head. “I should’ve brought uh gag, too,” he mumbled. I folded the bandana into a rectangle and tied it over my eyes. “Thank you,” Derek remarked. And then much too casually he questioned, “How’s school?”

            “It was school,” I answered after a beat passed. I wondered if he saw the look I gave him.

            “What’d you learn?”

            “Why Edgar Allen Poe should never be allowed to read bed time stories to little kids.”

            “Poe, hunh?” he questioned darkly, giving a very sinister cackle. “What’s your favorite?”