Stay Gold - Tobly McSmith Page 0,29
ask.
“All kinds. Mostly horror movies but also documentaries and indie films. I like movies that make me feel something. Even if it’s scared out of my mind.”
He’s getting excited—it’s super cute. I can see myself going to the theater with him. Sitting close and grabbing him at those jumpy moments.
“That’s cool. Do you want to be an actor?” I ask.
“Hell no. This is not the face for the big screen, or any screen,” he says.
“Come on, Pony, a little plastic surgery and you’ll be camera-ready!”
He ignores my brilliant joke. “I’d love to help make movies, I just don’t know what I would do. Maybe as a camera operator or—”
“Bathroom cleaner?” I offer.
“That might be more realistic,” he says, handing me the iced latte of my dreams. We pull back onto the main road, about a mile from school.
“That’s cool,” I admit. “I’m into movies, too.”
“So, Georgia, what’s your deal?” Pony asks with his eyes on the road. “What do you want to grow up to be?”
“Who knows, who cares,” I say.
“So, not professional cheerleading?” he asks.
“No, could you even imagine?” I shake my head and sneak a look at him, his eyes on the road and hands on ten and two. I say, “I’m a writer.”
Out loud.
For the first time.
I stare at his face. I need to gauge the shock. I steel myself, ready for him to laugh at me. Instead, he says, “Cool. Anything I can read?”
My body warms. He didn’t laugh. He thinks it’s cool. He wants to read my nonexistent writing. I never actually write the articles. But maybe I could.
“Yeah, maybe—”
“Shhh,” Pony says, cutting me off. He bolts upright. Laser focused on the rearview mirror. I look back and see the familiar flashing red lights. Pony slows the car down and pulls over to the shoulder.
“What the hell?” I say. “You weren’t speeding.”
“Shhhh,” he says again.
He’s flipping his shit. Every muscle is tight. He can’t stay still. What’s the big deal? Getting pulled over is business as usual for me. I’m not a bad driver; I’m just misunderstood. Lucky for me, we do a cheerleading fundraiser for the police department every year. Most of the time, I get off with a warning.
“Hey, it’s cool. I know most of the cops in town,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. But he flinches away. “Pony, is there a dead body in the trunk?”
“No,” he says.
“Are you lying about your identity and really a criminal on the run?”
He looks at me so seriously I think he’s about to admit to it. “No,” he says. His jaw clenches.
“Then why so nervous?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says.
Ugh, now I’m nervous, too. We both watch the cop approach from the driver’s-side mirror. He leans down, his face shadowing Pony. He taps the glass. Pony fumbles with the switch like it’s his first time using a window.
As soon as the window is cracked, I say, “Hi, Officer Dan!”
Pony looks at me with his mouth open and big eyes. The officer takes his sunglasses off, tucks his ticket pad under his arm, and ducks his head into the car.
“Oh, hi, Georgia. And who is your friend here?”
“He’s new to town,” I say.
“Welcome to Addison. Can I see your license and registration?”
Pony leans over me to the glove box and grabs the registration, his hand shaking. He pulls out his wallet and fishes out his ID. Officer Dan takes a quick look at the registration but slows down on the license. He keeps looking back and forth from ID to Pony and back again.
“You sure this is you?” he asks.
“It’s my hair,” Pony says, “and I’ve lost some weight.”
“Hmmm,” Officer Dan says, unconvinced.
Not going to lie, I’m dying to see that ID. Pony couldn’t possibly be his legal name. Whatever his real name is, it’s right there on that card, and I must know the truth. Also, different hair and weight?
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” Officer Dan asks Pony.
“My plates?” Pony asks. “I think they’re expired.”
“Bingo,” Officer Dan confirms.
“Ding, ding, ding! Tell the man what he’s won!” I say, not helping anything. Under pressure, Pony goes silent, and I get louder than ever. We’re obviously made for each other.
“I’d normally give you a ticket for this, but you’re new and Georgia’s friend, so I’ll let you off with a warning.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pony says.
Officer Dan turns his attention back to me. “Georgia, you think the boys are ready for Friday night?”
During football season, the entire city is overly concerned with the