I wouldn't remember for another year and a half

February 28, 2011

AP Psych is my last class of the day, thank goodness. I wring my hang out once before closing up my notebook—today we were talking all about repressed memories, so fun—and grab my bag. I join the crowd of people getting herded out of the building.

Tina has the car on Thursdays, so she gives me a ride home. I’m waiting by the lockers when I see her turn the corner, all four foot ten and one hundred pounds of her. Her converse smack the pavement and I grin at the pen lining the edges, the result of a bored Jessica in AP stats class a few weeks ago.

“Hey Shmoo.”

She’s taken to calling me by my family nickname lately. I stick my tongue out at her. “It’s still weird.”

She shrugs and we fall into step together, chatting about swim until we reach her beat up Camry, all peeling paint and sticking doors. We’ve affectionately christened him “Caesar” because of our trip—the first night she had her license—to Little Caeser’s where the door wouldn’t open and I had to climb in through the window.

We’ve just reached the top of the hill when she glances at me. Then—

“Has Ian been behaving himself?”

I blink. “Um.”

Behaving? You treat me well, better than most boys probably—but then I don’t have any other boys to compare to. You’ve been my first for everything.

You can be moody, that much is true. But I haven’t told Tina anything about that. So why would she ask?

“Yeah. It’s been fine.”

She reaches to turn down the music. Shoot, she’s getting serious.

“Has he tried anything else sketchy?”

“Sketchy?”

We come to a stop sign, giving her the chance to look straight at me. I shy away from her gaze.

“A couple weeks ago..” She says, like I should know exactly what’s going on here.

“What?” I ask, when the silence falls between us for longer than I’m comfortable with.

She throws the car into park and twists her entire body towards me. “Are you shitting me right now?”

When I still don’t respond, she continues. “You didn’t give me a lot of detail. But he.. and the cube car..”

What is she talking about?

“You really don’t remember?”

My confusion must show. Tina bites her lip and her eyes scrunch up while her eyebrows press down. Another long moment of silence. I see a multitude of emotions pass over her face, only a few of which are recognizable. Then, finally:

“Never mind.”

She turns back to the street and places her hands back on the steering wheel, all deliberate motions. I watch as she falters a moment. Then she flicks on her turn signal and puts the car back in drive.