The car is silent, despite there being so much to talk about.
Beside me, Michelle's arms are crossed. Duff wouldn't let her sit in the front seat.
Ten minutes ago, we were in eighth period. Now, we're on our way to a recording studio in downtown L.A. The band wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow. I haven't mentally prepared for this.
"What time did you guys get back?" I direct my words to Michael.
Michelle doesn't even move, her gaze focused on the streets outside the window.
"Right as the sun came up! Axl thinks it's metaphorical or spiritual or some shit, like a new beginning," Duff makes a gesture with his hands that makes me laugh before he puts them back on the wheel. "All I know is that I'm fucking exhausted, and when he said that we had to go to the studio today to record all the songs he just wrote, I wanted to fucking quit right then and there. I hate being in the studio. It's too. . . Corporate for me. And there's no windows, and everything is shaped like a box."
Duff is claustrophobic.
"So you're making us go suffer with you?" Michelle finally speaks.
"Yes, I am, dear sister. And don't even try to complain. I won't turn this car around, I'll drive faster!"
"This is kidnapping!"
"No, it's not, Michelle."
She's just mad because right when Duff pulled up, Billy was walking away from her.
Apparently, he told her he would pick her up. Tonight.
As in, tonight is the night Michelle could of done it.
Not anymore.
And as if on cue, Duff asks who the kid with the red and blue hair is.
"A burnout," I answer.
"No one," Michelle says.
That makes him laugh. "I saw him talking to you, Michelle."
My wrist burns as Michelle squeezes me, her way of saying that if I don't back her up she'll kill me.
"He asked about the math homework."
As if she would be able to manage sneaking out of the house at midnight. . .
"Is that true, Chasity?"
Of course he does this. Duff already knows something is up.
When I don't answer, Duff sighs but he doesn't push it. I see Michelle smile a little to herself beside me.
Ratting her out completely feels wrong. I'm not much better. I'm worse.
Definitely worse after what I found sticking halfway out of my locker today, where anyone could've grabbed it before I did.
The picture might be blurry, but it's apparent what the subject matter is.
Axl and I weren't alone that day outside the video shoot. Not at all.
The picture was taken mid-kiss, Axl's hands looking huge on my waist. Our faces aren't very clear, with there being too much hair in the way. But there's more than enough evidence to compensate.
It felt like I had pulled out a Playboy in the middle of passing period when I looked at that polaroid. It was like I couldn't shove it into my pocket quick enough, the seconds ticking by slower and slower the more I started to freak out and attempt to get rid of it.
