The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,34
I feel really stupid right now, trust me, but I was trying to stretch it out as long as possible. Gas prices have gone up so high lately, and I don’t get paid until tomorrow…”
She clamps her lips shut. I immediately feel like shit. I don’t struggle for money, thanks to my dad. I’m not as rich as the Callahans or even the Bennetts, but my dad does really well at his job. The fancy ass car I’m currently driving used to belong to him. He got tired of it after only two years and gave it to me.
Must be nice.
If I stay on my rock star path and actually get a record deal, I could afford a hundred of these cars for my closest and dearest friends. I could buy Ellie a lifetime supply of gas for her car. She’d never run out of gas again. If I hit it big, I could end up with the world at my feet, and I could do whatever the hell I wanted, whenever I wanted to. I would be set for life—if my over-the-top dreams come true.
And here Ellie struggles, driving on fumes, crossing her fingers that she won’t have to fill up her tank until she gets paid.
While I live on my daddy’s dime, able to fill up my gas tank, no problem.
“You’re not stupid,” I say gently, glancing over at her to find she’s already watching me. “I just wanted to make sure there’s not some other problem with your car before we go get a gas can and fill it up.”
She nibbles on her full bottom lip, her eyes wide. Trusting. She shouldn’t trust me. I don’t know jack shit about cars, but I want to help her. She’s helped me so much over the last couple of years, and I give her nothing in return.
This is the least I can do.
“Okay,” she says, nodding, her teeth still working her lip.
“Can I have the key?” I hold my hand out.
She reaches inside her purse and pulls out the keychain, handing it over to me. “Here you go.”
“Why don’t you get out of the car while I do this,” I suggest.
She frowns. “Why?”
“It’s not safe to sit on the side of the road in a car. Someone could smash into it—and you,” I explain.
“Isn’t it just as unsafe to stand on the side of the road?” she asks.
“At least you’d be on the other side of the car, and not in it,” I say with a shrug. This was advice my father gave me when I was first learning to drive.
Guess it stuck.
“Okay,” she says with a sigh, reaching for the door.
I go to her car while she finds some shade under a tree, watching me as I settle behind the steering wheel of her old Saturn. This car is ancient, at least fifteen years, maybe older? It’s definitely seen better days. Nice and clean inside though. Of course it is. This is Ellie we’re talking about, after all.
She takes care of her shit.
I stick the key in the ignition and try to start it. It doesn’t even try and turn over. Just makes a clicking sound. I try again, but nothing.
And I’ve got nothing either. Sure, this could be a simple run out of gas situation. But maybe it’s something else. Ellie bought the car the summer before her senior year for cheap. It already had over one hundred thousand miles on it. But it ran and she only paid around fifteen hundred bucks, which was a lot of money for her. I always worried about her driving around in this car. Figured it close to falling apart at any time.
I climb out of the car and make my way over to her, standing beneath the tree. It’s as hot as a bitch outside, and I see she’s sweating despite being in the shade.
“How old is the car again? 2005?”
“2003,” she admits.
I frown. “It’s eighteen years old.”
She nods.
“The same age as you,” I say, as if she needs the reminder.
I’m sure she doesn’t.
She rolls her eyes. “Ooookay.”
“Weren’t you born in ‘03?”
“Stop.” She shoves my shoulder, but I don’t really move. “Do you think it’s just out of gas? Or something worse?”
“Has it been acting up?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know—engine stalling? Having trouble starting? Lights flickering? When was the last time you replaced your battery?” I’m throwing questions at her and she looks overwhelmed. And I don’t even know if I’m asking the right questions.