admiration. “Beulah and Xena. They make a good couple.”
Why does the idea of our trucks being in a long-term committed relationship make me want to puke but also twirl around the parking lot like Julie Andrews? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen campus this early in the morning,” I say, changing the subject.
“Oh, I have during football season. Kind of peaceful, right?”
I begin to set up a little coffee bar on the bed of my truck using a tablecloth Mom lent me.
Tucker pulls a pen and clipboard from his backpack.
“Smart.”
He sets up all the tools and oils he might need in the bed of his truck.
“So why’d you miss school Monday?”
“Work,” he says simply.
“What?” My dad is not an easy boss, but would never, and I mean never, let a high school student work through the day. He rarely even hires high school kids, because he doesn’t want to interfere with school.
“Not for your dad,” he clarifies. “At my, uh, dad’s shop.”
I nod. “Were you just helping out?” I wonder why he doesn’t only work for his dad. That seems like plenty to keep him busy.
“You could say that.”
“So you have two jobs?”
He laughs. “Only one that pays.”
“Do you mean your dad doesn’t pay you?”
I pour a cup of coffee for myself and hold one up to offer him.
“Dad’s shop is hanging on by a string and he doesn’t always get it together to open up the shop in the morning, so I’ve got to fill in sometimes. If we’re not open, we’re not making money, and if we’re not making money, we don’t have a roof over our heads. My job with your dad is how I pay for gas and food and basic stuff we need.”
“Wow.” I don’t even have one job. Sometimes I’ll do odd jobs over the summer, but Mom and Dad have always told me and Clem they didn’t want us working during the school year. “You said your dad doesn’t always get it together . . .”
He takes a sip of coffee and watches me from over the brim of his cup. “Must be nice to have a dad who has it together.”
He doesn’t say it in a judgmental way, but I still feel very judged.
“Well, good morning, good morning,” says Mr. Higgins, way too much pep in his step for this early. “Did someone say complimentary oil changes?”
“Uh, heck yes, we did,” I say, taking the clipboard. “Let me get you signed up.”
He dangles a set of keys in front of my nose. “Be careful with this beaut.” He points over his shoulder to a fading champagne-colored Toyota Camry. “My Delilah . . . she’s the only woman in my life.”
“I find that so surprising,” I say dryly.
Tucker claps Mr. Higgins on the back. “We’ll take good care of Delilah.”
Mr. Higgins hands over an envelope. “Group project in class today, so you two are paired together and need to get this in to me by tomorrow night.”
“You mean we have to change your oil and do homework for you?” I ask.
Mr. Higgins laughs maniacally and walks off into the building.
“You’re like some kind of Disney villain!” I call after him. “But not in a fabulous way.”
Tucker laughs. “Well, this sucks. I have to work tonight. For your dad,” he clarifies.
I yank the folder out of his hand. “I’ll bring you dinner and we can work on it during your break. I’ve got some sway with the boss man.”
“Did you just ask me out on a date?”
My cheeks warm and suddenly I want to yank this bow tie off my neck. Or maybe I want to yank the bow tie off his neck. “Oh,” I manage to say. “If I ask you on a date, you’ll know.”
Ms. Laverne pulls up next, cutting right through the tension vibrating between us. After I help her out of the car, she hands me her purse to hold while she unties the silk scarf wrapped around her head. “Couldn’t risk messing up my new do.” She holds a hand out to display a warm-blond curly wig.
“Stunning,” I tell her. “Absolutely stunning.”
She clears her throat. “Thank you, thank you. I thought I might get you to weigh in on a couple of styles I was considering, but I haven’t seen you in my office too much lately.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. I really am. Gossiping with Ms. Laverne is always one of the best parts of my week. “I’ve been really busy with prom court.”