all I can do to keep from turning to her and screaming that she’s a fake, a liar, that I can see right through her.
I see right through you…. My heart flips when I remember Kent’s words.
“I know something that’ll cheer you up.” Elody starts rummaging around in her bag, looking pleased with herself.
“I swear to God, Elody, if you’re about to give me a condom right now…” I press my fingers to my temples.
Elody freezes and frowns, holding up a condom between two fingers. “But…it’s your present.” She looks at Lindsay for support.
Lindsay shrugs. “Up to you,” she says. She’s not looking at me, but I can tell my attitude is really starting to piss her off, and to be honest, I’m happy about it. “If you want to be a walking STD farm.”
“You would know all about that.” I don’t even mean for it to slip out; it just does.
Lindsay whips around to face me. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you say—”
“I didn’t say anything.” I lean my head against the glass.
Elody’s still sitting there with the condom dangling between her fingers. “C’mon, Sam. No glove, no love, right?”
Losing my virginity seems absurd to me now, the plot point of a different movie, a different character, a different lifetime. I try to reach back and remember what I love about Rob—what I loved about him—but all I get is a random collection of images in no particular order: Rob passing out on Kent’s couch, grabbing my arm and accusing me of cheating; Rob laying his head on my shoulder in his basement, whispering that he wants to fall asleep next to me; Rob turning his back on me in sixth grade; Rob holding up his hand and saying, Five minutes; Rob taking my hand for the first time ever when we were walking through the hall, a feeling of pride and strength going through me. They seem like the memories of somebody else.
That’s when it really hits me: none of it matters anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
I twist around in my seat, reaching back to grab the condom from Elody.
“No glove, no love,” I say, giving her a tight smile.
Elody cheers. “That’s my girl.”
I’m turning around again when Lindsay slams on the brakes at a red light. I jet forward and have to reach out one hand to keep from hitting the dash and then, as the car stops moving, slam back against the headrest. The coffee in the cup holder jumps its lip and splashes my thigh.
“Oops.” Lindsay giggles. “So sorry.”
“You really are a hazard.” Elody laughs and reaches around to buckle her seat belt.
The anger I’ve felt all morning pours out in a rush. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Lindsay’s smile freezes on her face. “Excuse me?”
“I said, What the hell is wrong with you?” I grab some napkins from inside the glove compartment and start wiping off my leg. The coffee’s not even that hot—Lindsay had the lid off to cool it—but it leaves a splotchy red mark on my thigh, and I feel like crying. “It’s not that hard. Red light: stop. Green light: go. I know that yellow might be a little harder for you to grasp, but you’d think with a little practice you could come to terms with it.”
Lindsay and Elody are both staring at me in stunned silence, but I don’t stop, I can’t stop, this is all Lindsay’s fault, Lindsay and her stupid driving. “They could train monkeys to drive better than you. So what? What is it? You need to prove you don’t give a shit? That you don’t care about anything? You don’t care about anybody? Tap a fender here, swipe a mirror there, oops, thank God we have our airbags, that’s what bumpers are for, just keep going, keep driving, no one will ever know. Guess what, Lindsay? You don’t have to prove anything. We already know you don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself. We’ve always known.”
I run out of air then, and for a second after I stop speaking, there’s total silence. Lindsay’s not even looking at me. She’s staring straight ahead, both hands on the wheel, knuckles white from clutching it so tightly. The light turns green and she presses her foot on the accelerator, hard. The engine roars, sounding like distant thunder.
It takes Lindsay a while to speak and when she does her voice is low and strangled-sounding. “Where the hell do you get off…?”
“Guys.” Elody pipes up nervously from the back.