I sighed. “I know you’re there.”
Silence.
“You might as well come out now.”
Mark stepped out from the alley next to the diner. He looked embarrassed but defiant. He wore jeans and a Ghostbusters shirt. The sequel had just come out. Rico and Tanner and Chris and I were going to go see it. I thought about inviting Mark too for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. He still got on my nerves, but he wasn’t so bad. I liked the way he smiled sometimes.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Why?”
“You’ve been standing there for a long time.”
“Stalker,” I muttered. “If you must know, I’m going to go to Marty’s.”
He glanced across the street, a frown on his face. “Why?”
“Because I want to see inside.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “It’s—you wouldn’t understand.”
He looked back at me. “Maybe I can if you just tell me.”
“You bother me.”
He cocked his head like a dog. “That was a lie.”
I scowled at him. “Stop it. You don’t get to do that. Stop listening to my heartbeat.”
“I can’t. It’s so loud.”
I didn’t know why I had a loud heart. I hoped nothing was wrong with me. “Well, try anyway.”
He was smiling a little now. “I don’t bother you.”
“You do. You really do.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“What? Go where? What are you—hey. What are you doing?”
He was already marching across the street. He didn’t look back even when I hissed his name.
I ran after him.
His stride was longer than mine. For every step he took, I needed to take two. I told myself that I would be bigger than him one day. It didn’t matter that he was a wolf. I would be bigger and stronger and I’d follow him around, see how he liked it.
“We’re going to get in trouble,” I whispered furiously.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Your dad is going to be so mad.”
“So is yours.”
I thought hard. “I won’t tell them if you won’t.”
“Like a secret?”
“Yeah. Sure. Like a secret.”
He looked strangely pleased. “I’ve never had a secret with you before.”
“Uh, yeah. You have. You’re a werewolf. I’m a witch. That’s like, so secret.”
“That doesn’t count. Other people know that. This is just a secret for you and me.”
“You’re dumb.”
We made it across the street. The garage doors were open. An old boom box blasted Judas Priest. I could see two cars inside, and an old pickup. One of the guys was under the truck. Marty was bent over a 1985 Chevy Camaro IROC-Z with an older man in a suit. The car was sleek and red, and I wanted nothing more than to put my hands on it. The hood was up and Marty was fiddling with something. The man in the suit looked irritated. He glanced at his watch and tapped his foot.
I leaned against the side of the garage, Mark at my side. His fingers brushed against mine, and I felt something like a pulse of magic along my arm. I ignored it.
“—and when did the engine light come on?” Marty was saying.
“I told you,” the man in the suit said. “Last week. There’s no stalling, no hesitation. It doesn’t shake, it doesn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Marty said. “I heard you. May be a faulty wire somewhere. These sports cars, they look nice, but they’re built for shit. You get all the pussy you want for a chunk of change, but they fall apart and you’re stuck with it.”
“Can you fix it or not?” The man in the suit didn’t sound very happy. I wondered if he didn’t get enough pussy. I wondered what pussy was.
“Grab the owner’s manual,” Marty said. “It better be in English or it ain’t gonna be for shit if the repair book I got doesn’t tell us anything. Let’s go into my office and take a look.”
The man in the suit let out a huff but did as Marty said. He leaned into the IROC-Z and grabbed the manual from the glove compartment before he followed Marty toward the back office.
Now was my chance. The pretty girl was just sitting there, wide open. Waiting for me. I was going to lube her up and put my fingers inside, just like Grandpap had taught me.
“I’m going in,” I whispered to Mark.
“Okay,” he whispered back. “I’m right behind you.”
Judas Priest gave way to Black Sabbath as we stepped inside. It smelled of man and metal, and I breathed it all in. The guy under the truck shifted slightly but otherwise didn’t move. Marty and the man in the suit were back in the office, blocked by a car on a lift.
The IROC-Z was there, waiting for me. She was gorgeous, a candy-apple red with black trim and silver rims. The man in the suit didn’t deserve her.
I bent over her engine, searching for something, anything.
“Light,” I muttered to Mark.
“What?”
“I need a light. When I ask for something, you hand it over. It’s how you work on cars.”
“How am I supposed to find a light?”
“With your eyes.”
He mumbled something, but I ignored him, taking her all in.
“Light,” he eventually said. I stuck out my hand. It was a small flashlight. It wasn’t much, but it’d do.
“Come on, you little bitch,” I said.
“What? You don’t need to call me names. I got the—”
“Not you,” I said. “It’s something you do when you work on cars. You curse at them while you figure out what’s wrong. My grandpap taught me that.”
“Oh. It helps?”
“Yeah. When you curse at it enough, you finally figure it out.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It works. Trust me.”
“I trust you,” Mark said quietly, and I felt another little curl of magic crawl along my skin. He pressed along my side, bending over the engine with me. His shoulder brushed against mine. “So we just call it names.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling slightly flushed. “I mean, that’s… yeah.”
“Okay. Um. You… asshole?”
I laughed. “You’re so bad at this.”
“I’ve never done it before!”
“So bad.”
“Whatever. I’d like to see you do better.”
I tried to think what Grandpap had said. “Come on, you insignificant bastard. What the hell.”
“Whoa,” Mark breathed. “That… your grandpa taught you that? My grandpa had hair sticking out of his ears and always forgot who I was.”
“He taught me a lot,” I said. “Everything, really. Try it again.”
“Okay. Let me think. Uh—how about, what’s wrong with you, you strange whore?”
I choked. “Oh my god.”
“Why won’t you tell me your secrets, you fucking shithead.”
“I don’t know why I even let you come with me.”
“Asshole motherfucking dick—”