Fix You.

[1]

"Hey Heather. What can I do for you today?" Steve asks.

"My breaks. Almost killed myself on my way to work." I replied.

"Breaks? Again? I think that old car of yours needs to be traded in. She's pretty old." Steve tells me.

"Don't you say that about Ol' Sal!  She's in wonderful shape, just got a few quirks." I snap.

"More than a few..." Steve says, but slides under my car. I know that the conversation is now over, you don't talk to Steve when he's working on a car. I learned that the 2nd week I moved here.

I walked into the convenient store area of the DX and sat on the counter. Soda turned around.

"Gimme a pack of Camels, Soda." I demanded.

"You gonna pay?" he asks

"No." I say, unashamed.

"Then why would I do that?" Sodapop asks, raising his left eyebrow.

"Because, there's this really cute single college chick that digs you at my work. If you give me that pack of smokes, I might hook you up." I say, looking him in his caring brown eyes.

He hands me the package of cigarettes.

"Only because I can't resist a cute college girl." he says, smiling.

I take a cigarette out of the package and light it.

"What does she look like?" Asks Soda.

I take a long drag on my cigarette.

"Uh, blonde, tall, green eyes. Killer figure. Big boobs. The works." I lie.

"What's her name?" Poor Soda, he actually thinks this is a real girl.

"Uh, Sammy." I say, slipping off the counter. "Look, I gotta go. I might bring you and your brothers some leftovers from the Dingo later, okay? See ya."

"Bye Heather!" yells Soda as I walk out the door to Steve.

"So how she holdin' up?" I ask Steve. He was out from under the car, about to lift up the hood of my '49 Chevy.

"Well, it's not just the breaks, is other stuff too. How often do you change the oil?"

"Hell if I know. It's my uncle's old car." I tell him.

He sighs. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to keep it for a few days."

"What? How the hell am I supposed to get to class and work?" I yell.

"I don't know, I'll try to find someone." Steve says. "Hey Dally! Can you drive Heather home? I've got her car." I hadn't noticed, but Dallas Winston was leaning against the wall in the corner, smoking a cigarette. In the 4 months I've been here, Dallas is the one I know the least. He's quiet, keeps to himself. The gang told me that one of their own died about 6 months ago, and it hit Dally the worst. I felt bad for him, I really did. But man, was he hot. I don't think he'd ask me out, so I'll just ask him. I know that is unheard of, but I like to break the rules.

"Yeah. I got nothin' better to do." he answers, coolly.

"Where's your car?" I ask him. He simply just goes around back and l motions for me to come.

I get in his car that is so old and beat up that I can't tell what model it is, and he floors it.

"You live close to the Curtis house, right?" he asks.

"Yeah." he turns right.

There was an awkward silence.

"Hey, you gonna be at Buck's tonight?" I ask. It's a Friday.

"No." he answers.

"Oh, well. Wanna get a beer with me instead?" I say.

It is quiet.

"You got some nerve, kid, I'll give you that. But no. I'm busy. Where do I turn?"

"Right there." I point to a street 5 feet ahead. Dally slams on his breaks.

"Those apartments right there." he turns in the driveway, and I get out, feeling defeated. He parks his car in front of my building. What is he doing? He gets out and opens an apartment door, right below mine.