“What time are you going to the party?” Joy asked while Judy brushed her hair into a high ponytail.
Judy glanced at her wristwatch. “A couple hours, why?”
“I need a ride. Taryn invited me up for the night.” Small lie. Joy had invited herself up.
“Mom and Dad know?”
“Yes.” Another lie. She hadn’t had the chance to ask them yet. They’d been at the country club all day playing in a tennis tournament and would barely be home before they returned that night for the club’s annual gala. She also suspected they’d say no anyway. Her parents hadn’t been thrilled with her grades last semester. As punishment they’d piled on the chores.
Judy sighed, sounding put out. “I’ll drive, but I don’t want to see you and Taryn anywhere near the party.”
Joy blew a raspberry. No worries there. She and Taryn had their own plans. She put her earbud back in and turned up her music so that she didn’t have to listen to Judy’s granny music on her sister’s ancient record player.
Weezer’s “Hash Pipe” faded into Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week.” Joy didn’t hear a knock, but Judy opened her door. Their parents stood in the hallway dressed in their tennis attire, grinning like kids. Something was happening. Joy tugged off her earbuds. Her dad had a hand behind his back. Her mom squealed, clapping her hands.
“What’s up with you two?” Judy asked.
“We have a graduation gift for you.” He showed her the small gift-wrapped box he’d been hiding.
“You gave me one.” Last night, after graduation, their dad had slipped Judy a card with a $1,000 check. Still, Judy greedily swiped the box and hurriedly unwrapped it. She opened the lid and gasped.
“No way.” Her gaze darted from their dad to their mom, then back to their dad. “For real?”
“What is it?” Joy raised to her knees and hobbled to the end of the bed.
“For real,” their dad said.
Judy put the lid aside and lifted a set of keys. She showed Joy. Joy’s jaw dropped. Judy got a new car. They were going to drive to the party in a brand-new car.
Excitement shot through Joy. She flew off the bed. “I want to see.”
Judy beat her through the door. “Me first!”
They raced down the hallway and out the front door to the driveway. Joy screeched to a halt. Judy just screeched.
“Omigodomigodomigod!”
Joy made a face. “What is that?”
Judy danced around the car, screaming and laughing and spazzing out. “It’s a 1955 Plymouth Belvedere Sport Coupe. Isn’t she a dream?” She gingerly touched the hardtop.
Was she nuts? It was the ugliest car Joy had ever seen. And it was teal.
“It’s hideous.”
“Joy, be nice,” her mom said from behind her. “Don’t ruin this for Judy.”
“I won’t,” she whined. She just didn’t get what was so special about an old car. Her ten-second fantasy of pulling up to Kevin’s cabin in a convertible Beemer popped like an overblown balloon. But a thought occurred to her. “Does this mean I get a convertible Porsche Carrera for my graduation?” she asked her dad. Her dream car.
“Not with the grades you brought home.”
Joy pouted.
“Can I drive it to the party tonight?” Judy asked.
Their dad hesitated.
“It should be fine, Joel.”
“All right, as long as your mother doesn’t have a problem with it. But there are a few things you need to know before you drive off. The engine gets shaky when you take it over fifty-five—”
“Dad,” Judy moaned.
“I’m serious, don’t drive over the speed limit.”
Joy peered through the rear window. “What’s with that ugly blue blanket?”
“It protects the seats. Keep them covered when you’re not driving her. She’s an older car. You also need to get used to the way she handles. She’s heavier than your mom’s Mercedes, so it takes longer to brake and accelerate. She also takes wider turns.” He laughed lightly. “You’ve got me calling it a she.”
“Her name is Betty,” Judy announced.
“Really? That’s so stupid.”
“Joy, don’t start,” her mother warned.
“The steering wheel and column are custom. The previous owner did some extensive upgrades to install an airbag, and that’s the only reason I’m letting you drive it now. I have to take it back to the shop this week. The front passenger seat belt is jammed, and the back seat only has lap belts. Until then, no passengers.”
“What?” Joy and Judy complained in unison.
“No passengers. It’s not safe.”
“That’s BS!” Joy kicked the whitewall tire. How was she supposed to get to Taryn’s?
“Hey, watch the car,” Judy said.
“Joy, language!” her mom snapped.
Judy gave Joy’s shirtsleeve a little tug. “Sorry, sis.”
“You promised you’d drive me to Taryn’s.”
“What’s this?” her mom asked.
“Taryn invited me to watch a movie at her cabin.”
“Another night, kiddo.”
“But, Dad, I promised Taryn I’d be there,” she whined.
“Your father said no. And why are you even asking? Your chores aren’t done. The dishes are still in the sink and the trash hasn’t been emptied,” her mom noted, disappointed.
Ignoring her mom, she turned to Judy. “Can’t you drive Mom’s car?”
“No way. I’m taking this baby for a spin.”
“Taryn is expecting me.” And she wanted to see Kevin.
“There will be plenty of other nights this summer you can go to Taryn’s, but not tonight,” her dad said with finality.
“This is such bullshit!”
“Enough! You’re grounded.” Her dad pointed a finger at her.
She lightly punched the car and spun away. “I hate you. I hate you all.”
“I get so tired of her attitude,” Joy overheard her mom complain as she stomped back to the house.
Her dad sighed, weary. “She’ll grow out of it.”
Joy slammed the front door.
CHAPTER 7
BEFORE
Joy
Flagstaff, Arizona
The waitress bused Joy’s plate and left the check. With a slight tremor in her fingers, Joy reached into her purse for her wallet. She also took out Judy’s bucket list and a pencil and unfolded the paper on the table, smoothing the creases. The memory of that last day with her sister always left her rattled. But she’d accomplished an item on the list. That should count for something.
Feeling a smidge better, she drew a line through make a new friend, then paused, pencil tip hovering above the fresh marking.
Were she and Dylan really friends?
Joy looked outside. The martini glass flashed. On-off-on-off. She loved live music, had ever since Taryn invited her to see Matchbox Twenty a few months after Judy passed. Music had always made her happy, but after Judy died it became an escape. She could plug in and feel the beat rather than remorse. She could blast her tunes and scream and shout, and she wouldn’t feel depressed.