âHey,â Olivia says, and I know itâs her because I would know her voice anywhere. Weâve been friends since fifth grade, and weâve been through period trauma, boy crap, bad hair, her parents and their ways. And now Dan and his baby.
âHey,â I say. I wipe my eyes and look at her. âHowâs the car?â
Olivia makes a face at me but also wraps an arm around my shoulders, steering me toward our lockers. Her parents gave her a fully loaded convertible when she got her license, one with a built-in music player, phone, navigation systemâyou name it, the car had it. Could do it, and all at the touch of a button.
Olivia sold the carâthrough the one newspaper left in the area, which is basically just adsâand bought a used car. Itâs so old all it has is a CD player and a radio. We bought CDs at yard sales for a while, but all we could get was old music, which we both hate, and the radio is just people telling you that what they think is what you should think, so we mostly just drive around in silence.
It used to bother me sometimes but now I like it. The inside of my head is so full now that silence isâŚI donât know. Thereâs just something about knowing Olivia is there, and that we donât have to talk. That she gets it. Gets me and whatâs going on.
Her parents were unhappy about the car, though. Really unhappy, actually, but then there was a big crisis with one of their server farms at work and by the time they surfaced for air they hadnât slept in four days. And when they said, âOlivia, that car was a gift,â she said, âYes, it was. A gift, meaning something freely given, for the recipient to use as she wanted to, right?â
As we hit her locker, we pass Anthony, and he says, âLadies,â bowing in my direction. A real bow too, like itâs the nineteenth century or something.
âAss,â Olivia says.
âA donkey is actually not as stupid as people believe. However, you are entitled to your own beliefs about asses. And me.â He looks at me. âHello, Emma.â
I sigh. âHi, Anthony.â
âIf you ever want to talk about your grades, do know that Iâm here.â
I canât believe I ever thought the way he talked was interesting. Itâs just stupid, like heâs too good to speak like a normal person. âI know, Anthony.â
âI really would like to be of assistance to you. I believe in helping everyone. Iâm talking to Zara Johns later. I think she feels threatened by the fact that Iâve been asked to help her organize the next school blood drive.â Translation: heâs butted in, and Zaraâs furious.
âEither that or she just doesnât like you. Emma, letâs go,â Olivia says, slamming her locker shut, and we head for mine.
âYou okay?â she says, and I nod. Anthony doesnât bother me at all anymore, just like Mom said would happen. I look at him and feel nothing. Well, some annoyance, but then, who wouldnât after listening to him talk?
Of course, I didnât always think that he was annoying. I open my locker, deciding not to go down the Anthony road, and hear the guy next to me say, âNo way! I mean, everyone knows whatâll happen to Caleb if he steals another car.â
Olivia and I glance at each other. If Anthony is the ass end of the smart part of the school, Caleb Harrison is the ass end of the stupid part. Heâs a total druggie and three years ago, when we were freshmen, he came to school so high he couldnât even talk. I heard that stopped last year, but then, as soon as school got out, his parents sent him off to some âtough love camp,â which is rich-people code for boot-camp rehab.
He came back seemingly off drugs but newly into stealing cars. He started by grabbing them at the mall and parking them in a different spot, but then he stole a teacherâs car.
And then he graduated to a school bus. It was empty at the time, but still, I heard that got him a couple of weeks in juvie, or would have except for his parents, who intervened. I guess now heâs taken yet another step forward and by lunchtime, I know what Caleb stole.
His fatherâs brand-new, limited-edition Porsche. And he didnât just steal it. He drove it into the lake over by the park, drove right off the highway and into the water. The police found him sitting on the lakeâs edge, watching the car sink. They were able to pull it out, but water apparently isnât good for the inside of a Porsche.
âYou think heâll go to jail this time?â Olivia asks as we sit picking at our lunches. I love that we have lunch together this semester, but itâs the first lunch block, and itâs hard to face foodâespecially cafeteria foodâat 10:20 in the morning.
âI guess it depends on his parents,â I say. âLast time they talked to the judge or whatever. Theyâll probably just ship him off again. He must hate them, though.â
âYeah. To sit by the lake and watch the car sink like thatââ
âExactly.â
âEven when my parents are sucking their lives away with all their computer crap, Iâd never do anything like mess with their stuff,â she says. âHow can you hate someone who raised you, who loves you soââ She breaks off.
âDan didnât raise me,â I say tightly. âAnd he doesnât love me. Or Mom.â
Olivia nods and I think about hate. I understand what can make someone do what Caleb did, although I donât think a bored, rich druggie really gets hate. Not real hate.