Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself.
~ Walter Anderson
***
Because Colby, you're my world...
And you are mine, I want to tell him but before anything can happen, the car jerks and completely shuts off and smoke begins to swirl out from underneath the hood. Mac turns to look out the windshield and he sighs, as if this is just some minor annoyance.
"Damn," He curses at it. I pull back I bit from his arms, a little embarrassed, but he just smiles at me.
"To be continued?" He asks me and I feel myself blush. He chuckles, "Good."
Mac pulls himself out of the truck and rounds about to the front, watching the smoke curl up into the breezy sky with a blank expression on his face. My first guess of the problem is the motor but I don't know anything about cars to determine that. My brother is the one who knows more about these kinds of things. Me? I just watch Netflix and try to write, even though I know that sometimes I suck.
I can't help but feel a little useless at the moment, hence the reason why I'm sitting down in the passenger seat looking down at my newly bandaged hand and trying to tell myself otherwise. I should be in school right now, dealing with those claw-like manicured fingernails belonging to Harley Mumford, Jason's replacement of the spot that was once mine. I should be receiving hard, angered glares from every girl in the school. I should be closed in the Coliseum-like circle of onlookers as the lion tears me - the slave - down with words that shouldn't hurt when the only weapon to fight back with is my own tongue.
I could be in my seventh period now, listening to freshmen girls talk about my little brother as if he's some sort of god chiseled from the very material that built the Parthenon. And I should be staring hard at them, telling them with my eyes that if they dare lay a finger on him against his will, his big sister will personally make sure their parents will never find their remains. I could be texting Hayden from under the desk about how "no I'm not going to see a rom-com on Saturday that's bullshit" while she begs me again and again until she finally tells me that she just bought my ticket online and that I'm coming whether I like it or not. Or I could be texting Mac, telling him that I'll need a ride to work after school because my car is at home with a busted radiator. And he's amused at me because he knows I hate asking for favors and he asks me if I'll get him a free latte in return. And after school when he drops me off and I give him his damned latte, he'll take it with a wink and a toothpaste commercial smile and say,
"Thanks Little Miss," and kiss me on the cheek, leaving the building with me staring after him in innocent confusion.
***
"Well," Mac says with a long sigh as he leans on the driver seat from outside. "Looks like the battery died along with the fact that we also have a radiator problem,"
I internally laugh. Of course something like this would happen to him, it just comes with the territory.
And I love it.
"I'm gonna call Logan," Mac says, pulling out his cell phone. "He can pick us up a few minutes after school ends, but that means we'll have to walk a ways until then." He glances at me and I check the time. 2:43. School's out in less than fifteen.
