“I don’t know. I mean, you’re cool enough to always get this prime real estate in the student lot without having to fight for it,” I say, tipping the mirror to check the smoothness of today’s twisty up-do. Strands are already falling away and framing my face like wispy baby doll hairs.
“I get this spot because it’s right in front of the principal’s office, and almost everyone else hides vape or pot in their car so nobody wants to park here.” June kills the engine and gives me a sideways look.
“It’s cool not to be the pot-smoking vaper,” I say, folding my arms over my chest to hold my position. Laughter breaks free from June’s lips almost immediately as she reaches over her seat to grab her backpack.
“Okay, Nancy Reagan.” She gets out, thinking she proved a point.
I step out on my side and shut the door just as she locks it with the key fob.
“Joke’s on you. I have no idea who Nancy Reagan is.” I’m lying. I totally get her joke, but it’s going to piss her off more that I don’t, and then she’ll forget all about not driving a cool car.
“Just say no?”
I glance up and purse my lips in feigned consideration, then shake my head when my gaze falls back to her.
“Ronald Reagan’s wife? He was president in the eighties? And she was the First Lady? Just . . . say . . . no?” She’s getting worked up. I live for this. My hand grips my phone in my pocket.
“No,” I say, just as she requested.
She groans with frustration, and I pull my phone out to snap a photo of her at the perfect moment. My cherry on top.
“Damn it!” June chides.
I can’t help but laugh hard.
“You were fucking with me, weren’t you?” my friend demands. She’ll get over it in seconds. She always does.
“Bitch, I totally know who Nancy Reagan is. Do you think I’m stupid?” I snap one more photo, this time with her mouth open wide, ready to argue. She snaps it shut and grumbles, which only makes me laugh more.
“I’m making that one my lock-screen photo,” I tease. She rolls her eyes, and I set the photo to save. I’ll change it with a new one tomorrow, but today this photo gives me joy. More importantly, though, now June couldn’t care less about driving a minivan and parking it front and center. That’s old news.
On instinct, I duck and roll when an arm slinks over my shoulder. It takes me three full seconds to realize it’s Hayden’s arm doing the act. He’s wearing his Allensville Public hoodie, number fourteen on the back. Tory’s wearing his, too, only he’s two. Must be a team thing.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Hayden says, cautiously opening his arm for me to tuck myself next to him on my own terms. I do, but the weight of his arm on my shoulders feels heavy—suffocating.
“What’s with the twin matchy-matchy?” I ask, tugging on the cord from his hood. He shoves his free hand into the front pocket and puffs the sweatshirt out to look down at our school’s logo. It’s a cartoonish drawing of a massive eagle carrying away a bloody piece of prey. There’s a constant debate among students whether it’s a rabbit or another bird of some sort. Whatever it is, it’s gross. There was a petition to change the mascot logo my freshman year, but apparently the guy who drew it is some famous local artist, so we’re stuck with these gory sweatshirts and stuff.
“Did you forget? Game day!” Hayden steps to the side and pulls his arms free of his hoodie one at a time.
“Today is the first game?” I’m a bad girlfriend because saying I forgot wouldn’t even be close to the truth. I never paid attention enough in the first place to even know it was game day.
“Yeah. You’re coming, right?” He pulls the hoodie over his head, messing up his wavy hair. It’s cute.
“Of course. June?” I turn to my friend who is already making out with Lucas against the back of his truck. They have a lot of time to make up for, but I swear they’re always locked mouth-to-mouth.
I’m about to turn back to Hayden and tell him I’ll be there, with or without June, when the tight fit of his dark gray hoodie swallows up my head and chokes at my neck.