Thank you for telling me. I’ll give you an alibi. But I expect a full and detailed report tonight.
I pulled up to the curb at the east entrance just as Donna slipped out the door. This was where the younger students were picked up and dropped off by their parents, nannies, and drivers. The area was packed with Escalades, Audis, and BMWs in the morning and the afternoon, but it was deserted as Donna rushed down the stairs.
I expected her to lean through the window, demand her underwear, maybe sic the football team on me. But she surprised me by jumping into the passenger seat immediately and throwing her designer backpack into the back seat.
“Drive,” she demanded as she put her belt on. “Your tree-hugging car’s windows are not tinted. The last thing I fucking need is to be caught skipping class with the likes of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I let the dig slide and took off.
The drive was surprisingly uneventful. Resigned to her fate, Donna jammed her black sunglasses on and remained silent as I tried to figure out where to take us.
When all else fails—comfort food.
I took us to a fast food drive-through, and after a half-hearted argument about how she couldn’t eat that crap, Donna rolled her eyes and got the same thing I did. Cheeseburgers and milkshakes in tow, I pulled back onto the road.
“Should’ve got some chickie nuggies as well,” Donna mumbled, her head buried in the paper bag.
“Chickie nuggies?” I grinned. She was fucking adorable, with her delicate, manicured fingers stuffing several fries into her mouth at the same time.
“Shut up.” She laughed around a mouthful and shoved some fries into my mouth too. I gave her finger a nibble before she could pull her hand out of reach, and she smacked me on the shoulder. “That’s what my sister calls them. She’s got us all saying it now.”
“It’s cute. More fries,” I demanded and opened my mouth wide, angling my head in her direction but keeping my eyes on the road.
“Fuck you. I’m not cute,” she protested but deposited the salty, potatoey goodness into my mouth anyway. “Where are we going?”
“Ah, good question. Very deep. So many answers.” I nodded and opened my mouth again.
She rolled her eyes and shoved more fries in my face. “I meant physically, like, right now, in this car, where are we going? Not existentially, smart-ass.”
“Hmm. How about . . .” We were well out of downtown Devilbend, the buildings thinning out, the speed limits rising. A sign for a turnoff caught my eye. “Oak Hill Park?”
The turn came up before she could answer, and I took it, but Donna remained silent beside me. We followed signs for the parking lot, intermittent sunlight shining down through the thick canopy of trees.
Unsurprisingly for a Thursday afternoon, the lot was mostly empty, no tourists or hikers in sight.
Donna turned to me as I cut the engine, her hands digging into the top of the paper bag. “I’m not getting out of this car or handing over your greasy burger until you give me back my underwear.”
I pursed my lips to stop myself from smiling. We both knew I could overpower her if I really wanted to.
Reaching into my pocket, I fished out the small piece of cotton and handed it over. She deposited the takeout bag in my lap and pulled her panties up, shimmying into them under her skirt, then promptly got out of the car.
I followed her up the grassy hill to a nearby picnic table. The sun was coming and going behind grayish clouds—the kind that threatened rain but were just as likely to float away before a single drop reached the ground. It was fresh out here, the air chilly whenever the sun disappeared, and I was glad I’d made her bring her coat.
We settled onto the top of the table, our feet propped up on the seat. As we started to unwrap the burgers, Donna hesitated and looked around.
“Something messed up happened to Mena and Turner here,” she said before taking a bite.
I paused with my burger halfway to my mouth and looked at her. “Do you want to leave?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “I just realized where we are, that’s all. Being reminded of what went down a few months ago just makes me angry every time.”
“What happened?”
“Uh . . .” She picked at her burger. “It’s not really my story to tell.”
She was loyal and fearless—a fucking lioness personified.