repeat

Chapter 2

The clock on the dash read 11:35. We haven't been driving for very long.

"I'm feeling fro-yo. You feeling fro-yo?" He asks me. He's been tapping his fingers along to the beat of some Green Day song I grew up listening to. My father loved Green Day. He used to pick me up from school everyday with their albums playing through our radio. I mentally beat myself up for not knowing the name.

"Yeah sure." I reply, keeping my gaze out the window.

"You don't talk much."

"I don't have much to say." That's a total lie. I have notebook after notebook of everything I want to say, but never do. It's easier that way, I tell myself. We remain quiet the rest of the ride. We arrive at a tiny frozen yogurt shop at around 11:45. The aroma is sweet and fruity. We both fix our yogurts in a comfortable silence. He gets chocolate and tops it with a bunch of candies. I stick to fruit. We get to the cash register, and I reach for my wallet out of my bag.

"I got it." He says, sliding a $10 to the lady wearing a T-shirt reading "fro-yo fo' yo!" I almost laugh at the cheesy slogan. We sit at a table near the door. I almost forgot how good frozen yogurt was. I used to go get fro-yo after all my soccer games as I child. Then I turned 12, and lost my interest in soccer. I've been sports-less since.

"So what's your story? Tell me about yourself." He says, taking a bite of his chocolate yogurt.

"Umm. I'm 15. Hooray. I like music. And poetry. And photography." I look up at him, his expression hard to read. I suddenly feel embarrassed.

"I'm not very interesting." I say with a smile laugh.

"I find you very intriguing." He takes another bite. "What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Mostly punk rock." He smiles and nods.

"I like it, I like it. You got any favorite bands?"

"Uh. I like green day. And fall out boy. Panic! At the disco." He listens intently and eats his yogurt.

"So poetry and photography? You got any samplers. I'd love to witness your work."

"Why?" I ask.

"Why not? Poetry's cool. And I appreciate a good photographer when I see one."

I sigh and hand him my phone, showing him some pictures I took on a trip to Chicago last summer. My mom decided that I needed a break from our tiny town, so she packed up the car and drove us to Chicago for the week. We both have always been enticed by the big city.

"Wow. You're really good." He said, scrolling through my camera roll.

"Who's this?" He said, flipping my phone and revealing a picture of my father on the screen.

"Oh, umm, that's my dad."

"Oh nice. What's your dad like?"

"Umm, he was really cool. He liked rock music and sports and cars and stuff. The usual."

"Was?" He asked.

"Uh yeah. My dad passed away a couple years ago."

Jase stopped dead in his tracks. "I'm sorry." He said, mouth full of yogurt and chocolate chips.

"It's cool." I smiled. It didn't really bother me when people talked about my dad. I'd rather people did. I don't want anyone to forget him. It's not like anyone could. My dad was a legend. In my eyes, anyway.

We continued our conversation about books and movies and actresses who totally shouldn't have made the cover of enquire magazine and after an hour, we decide to head back to the house. The ride back is spent listening to old Metallica CDs, Jase's fingers tapping along on the steering wheel.

The house had died down a little bit. The music was just a tad bit quieter and there were less people. Lauren was sitting on a couch in the living room with the group she was with earlier.

"Okay chickie, let's get out of here." I said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out the door.

"Awe really? But the party just started!" She whined like a 4 year old. She was totally drunk. The party started like 3 hours ago. I took it upon myself to grab the keys. I've only driven a couple of times. Luckily, my house is only a couple of blocks away. I get into the driver seat when I see Jase running towards the car.

"Carter wait!" He yelled, grabbing the door before I could pull away. I rolled the window down. He was out if breathe.

"Call me sometime?" He said, holding out a little slip of paper. He's giving me his number? How cute.

"Yeah totally. " I smiled. And off he went.

I dropped Lauren and her car off at her house and walked the rest of the way home. Thank god were only two houses apart. I walked in, and straight up to my room. I look at the clock. 1:15. I missed cereal time. It was lame I know. But ever since my dad died, even before, 12:15-12:30 was our time. I never missed it. I changed into a Tshirt representing an orthodontist I didn't even go to and some pajama pants and climbed into bed. And for the first time in 3 years, I cried.