Speed of Life (26 page)

He stands and paces next to the pool's edge, rubbing his hands over his face, hard, like he wants to peel his skin off. “I always liked you. Not Amber.”

“Oh, please. You were all over her for two years.”

“I pretended to like Amber so I could get to know
you.
You're not that easy to make friends with.”

I can't believe this. But why would he lie? “Really?”

“Really.”

Wow. “So what happened that night? Did you make a move and I said yes?”

He's still standing by the pool, looking up at the sky. “The thing is . . . if you really don't remember . . . it's just, Crys, that night was so fucked up. I never should've let it happen. I mean, I wanted it to, but not like that.”

A wave of dread washes over me. Memories fight to surface, but I'm not ready. Not here. Not while we're outside with the endless sky already making me feel small and scared. “You know what?” I say, jumping up off the lounge chair. “I'm shot. Let's go to bed.”

“Sounds good,” he says without an argument.

I watch the clock change from 1:21 to 1:22. We've been in our separate beds for fifty-seven minutes. Han is out cold, but I'm wide awake. I don't want to make him tell me his version of what happened that night. I need my own truth, and so I force myself to try to remember. I think about waking up naked in Jade's house. Han is there beside me. And we're on the floor. I refused to do it in her bed. And I'm freaking out.

“Oh my God!” I whisper-yell at him in case other people are around. “What the hell did we do?” I throw clothes at him. “We've got to get out of here.”

“Crystal—”

“Don't talk to me,” I say. “This never happened. Never.”

“But—”

“Han, promise me this never happened!”

I don't wait for him to say it. I'm in my clothes now—​not mine, but the skanky ones I borrowed from Amber so I wouldn't have to listen to those guys call me a dyke all night.

She works on a car like a grease monkey.

She dresses like a guy.

I bet she likes girls.

One night with me and she'd change.

The voices follow me as I run the four blocks to our house. It's three in the morning but no one's home, and I jump in the shower, washing off everything—​the stink of cigarettes and pot, the beer oozing out of my pores, Han's sweat as he . . . as he . . .

Why did I listen to those guys? Why did I let them torment me into trying to prove something? The truth is, I'm not a cold bitch like they say. I just . . . don't really like guys. Or girls. I mean, I think I like guys more, but everyone I know is an idiot. Someday I'll probably fall in love, once me and Amber have our new life, but right now I'm too busy to screw around with high school boys. And then Han had been there. And he'd heard them as they walked by us.

“
Is that Amber?” one of them had said.

“
Nah. She's with Rick inside. That's the frigid one.”

“
Good luck, dude,” the first one said to Han.

“
Ignore them,” he told me.

But those assholes, or some version of them, had been harassing me all summer. And at that moment, I was sick of it. I threw the joint I was smoking on the ground and grabbed Han and kissed him hard, for everyone to see. At first he was too stunned to respond, but I kept at it.

His mouth was warm and tasted like beer and smoke. It wasn't fun, but I was determined, and the longer and harder I kissed him, the more he got into it. We made out right there in the backyard, my hands snaking under his shirt, feeling his ribs through his skin. His fingers in my hair, our bodies pressing together, our lips making smacking sounds. Finally someone shouted at us to get a room, and we broke apart. I remember forcing myself to smile big as I took Han's hand and led him right past those assholes and into the house, their catcalls following us.

The rest is still a blur, but that's enough. That's all I need to know right now. My body's shaking under the covers, and I let the memory fade away and force myself to focus on the clock here in Nevada, tears sliding down my face, soaking the pillow.

“I'm sorry, Han,” I whisper. “I'm so sorry.”

He mumbles something in his sleep, and I hear him roll over in his bed.

What have I done? Will he ever forgive me?

In the morning, I feel oddly light. I mean, there's still a sense of dread. I know we're not done talking about this, but I'll save that conversation for the road. We decide not to rush out of town. Instead, we eat a huge breakfast for $2.99 each, and then we go looking for presents. At a souvenir shop, I find a T-shirt for Gil that says
I LOST EVERYTHING EXCEPT THIS SHIRT IN RENO, NEVADA
. The one we find for Mom is in the back where they keep the triple-XL shirts. It's light blue and says:
WANNA BET?

“You can see through that material,” Han says.

His worried face cracks me up. I know what he means, though. No one wants to see Mom's gigantic boobs coming at them. “Don't worry, she'll sleep in it. You'll never have to see her in it.” I giggle at his obvious relief.

We don't find anything for Amber, so we go to the next shop over and they have the perfect top: a black tank with
RENO
written across it in rhinestones. While I'm deciding if I should get it big in case it shrinks, Han nudges me. He's holding up a toddler-size shirt. In block lettering it says
MY PARENTS WENT TO RENO AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT
.

To be honest, it kinda freaks me out. But then I shrug. “Why the hell not? It's true, isn't it?”

“I'll pay for this one,” Han says, grinning all the way to the cash register.

After the shopping spree, we hit a lunch buffet and then walk back to the car. Now that it's actually time for Han to drive, I'm not so sure I need him after all. Letting Ramon take the car out the other night was a moment of weakness, but I think I'm over it.

I clutch the keys in my hand tighter. “Maybe I'll drive after all.”

“Forget it. I didn't come all this way to be a passenger.”

“But I think I'm good now.”

“Actually, you're a control freak,” Han says, laughing. He takes the key from me and opens the passenger door. “Get in the car already.”

I climb in, but I'm not happy. He gets behind the wheel and my nerves ratchet up tenfold.

“See?” he says, backing out. “This isn't so bad.”

“Watch out for the guy on the bike!”

“Chill. He's across the road, Crys.”

“Not that one!” I shout as he almost takes out someone in yellow spandex on our right side.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Didn't see him.”

Han pulls into traffic, making my heart start pumping harder. We go about four blocks before he changes lanes without signaling and a couple of guys in an SUV come unglued, honking and swearing at us as they swerve out of the way.

“Oh my God.”

“Will you relax?” he says. “You're making me nervous. You didn't freak out like this when I drove your ass to the hospital last winter.”

“I felt like dying that day. Now I'd like to live.”

“
You
called
me
, remember?”

“You're the only one I know with a driver's license.”

And I'm starting to wonder how he got it.

“Very funny.”

I wasn't trying to be, but I keep this to myself. While it's true, I did call him so he could drive, I also knew we needed to talk, and I knew if I waited until I got back to Portland, I might chicken out. I can already tell we won't be discussing anything serious while Han is driving, though, or we might not survive the trip.

We finally get out of Reno, which makes things a little better. There are semi-trucks whizzing by us, and Han putts along like a little old lady, but at least he's staying in one lane.

“It's a muscle car,” I remind him. “Put your foot down a little so you don't embarrass Mustang owners everywhere.”

“I'm gonna ignore that, Miss One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Miles-an-Hour-in-a-Sixty-Five-Mile-an-Hour-Zone.”

“Yeah, well, I'd rather die speeding than get creamed by an eighteen-wheeler for going too slow.”

“Why do we keep talking about dying?”

“Mostly it's your driving.”

“Ha-ha.”

But a small part of me is worried about dying because I'm afraid I'll never see Amber and Natalie again, and not because of anything real, like Han's sucky driving. It's more like I know if I die, the last thing they'll remember is the huge fight on the lawn and the cops coming, and that would be really horrible.

“Did Amber get in trouble with the police after our big fight?” I ask.

“Nah. She told them it was an old boyfriend picking up his stuff and being an asshole about it.”

That's one good thing, anyway.

We drive in agitated silence for a while. Well, I don't think Han's worried about anything, but his driving really is scaring the crap out of me. I wonder how long I have to wait until I can take over without any more control-freak comments.

“We can switch off anytime,” I say.

“I've only been driving for an hour.”

It seems like way longer. “Okay, well . . . it's about nine hours to Portland so . . . you know . . . I'm good to drive a long stretch.”

He doesn't answer, and after a while I notice he's relaxed a little. At least his knuckles aren't white anymore. And he's going the speed limit, which is better than granny pace. Maybe he's right and I was making him nervous. I vow to shut up and let him drive.

It's almost five o'clock when we get to Red Bluff and pick up I-5, heading north. Han's been driving for about four hours, and we stop for coffee and switch places. We don't talk much, and I don't know what he's thinking about, but I've got something on my mind and I want him to weigh in.

“Han? What would you think if I took Natalie to Kansas?”

“I thought that was the plan.”

“I know, but that was before you had any . . . claim on her.”

I see him smile, and that old familiar knot in my stomach tightens. “I think you should go to college,” he says, and I relax a little.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Of course. You belong there.”

“But won't you miss her?”

“I was always gonna miss her. That's why I was planning to visit.”

“You were?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. Cool.” We drive on for a while, the hot wind blowing in through the open windows, tossing my curls around my face.

“So you're still going?” he asks. “Without Amber?”

“Actually, when I called you to come and get me, I wasn't planning on it. But I've been thinking about it a lot while you were driving. Something Amber said to me before I left makes a lot of sense.”

“What's that?”

“She told me that if I really want to go to college, then I'll have to suck it up and do what everyone else does: find daycare.”

“Oh, I'm all over that,” Han says. “I'll find you the best daycare in the whole state of Kansas.”

I laugh. “Sounds expensive.”

“You know what?” he asks. “I'm gonna pay for it.”

“I didn't mean—”

“I know you didn't. But I'm serious. I'm her dad. I should pay for it.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. You can count on me.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

I can't believe it. This is so great. Maybe college will happen after all. Classes don't start for three weeks, and I need to do some stuff at home to make things right with Amber, but we already have an apartment lined up . . . If I get my shit together fast, and if Han helps me, I think I might be able to pull this off.

“Uh, Crystal?” Han says, snapping me back to the present.

“Yeah?”

“You're going eighty-five.”

I ease up on the gas pedal. “Sorry. I was getting excited about college again.”

“That's good. But I don't think you can afford another ticket.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

Somewhere outside of Weed, California, traffic slows and I tap my brakes. Cars trickle to a standstill, and I kill the engine a few minutes later so we don't overheat. After an hour of sitting there, we see people getting out and standing by their cars to talk, so we do, too. Everyone else seems to know what's going on because they all have cell phones. Han weaves through the parked cars and asks someone what's up. He comes back and tells me it's an eighteen-wheeler, jackknifed, blocking all lanes.

“But it happened around four thirty,” he says. “So hopefully it's almost cleared.”

The sun's getting lower, but it's still beating down on us, and we climb back inside the stifling car to get out of it. “God, this feels like our bedroom at home,” I say.

“How do you sleep?”

“You get used to it, I guess.”

It's seven o'clock before traffic starts moving again. By the time we pass the crash site, about five miles up the road, all that's left is a mangled guardrail and piles of gray ash from the flares. As soon as I see the wreckage, I decide not to let Han drive anymore. Natalie needs her parents.

Just before we get to the Oregon border, we pull off at a rest stop and have a cigarette.

“Well,” I say, inhaling deeply, “last one for me.”

Amber will undoubtedly smell the smoke on my breath anyway, but I might as well try to get it out of my system now. Han looks at me, takes a last mournful puff, smashes the butt under his shoe, and tosses the rest of the pack into the garbage can.

“Really?” I ask.

“Once Amber finds out you're letting me be Nat's dad, I won't have a choice.”