She closes her eyes and grumbles under her breath.
MY DAD’S COWORKER, MRS. THOMAS, TAPS ON the glass, a grin splitting her face and a Bluetooth piece strapped behind her ear. I slowly push the ancient button to roll down the window and force myself to meet her smile with one of my own.
“Marva? I thought that was you!” She practically pokes her head into the car. “What are you doing here?”
Rhetorical questions should be banned.
“Um, just getting some coffee.” I gesture toward the front of Drip Drop, as if that’s the answer Mrs. Thomas is actually looking for.
“Oh, well, me too, though I really shouldn’t.” She gestures to her yoga pants. “I just got done with a workout, and this is totally counterproductive, but I will always choose coffee over one of those twenty-dollar juices.”
I don’t dare glance at Duke. The last thing I need to do is draw any more attention to him than necessary.
As if Mrs. Thomas is reading my very thoughts, she cranes her neck to see past me. “Hi, there!”
“Hey,” Duke says, nodding at her. When I finally look over, I almost laugh at the bemusement plastered on his face.
“How do you two know each other?”
I stifle a sigh. I’ve known Mrs. Thomas almost half my life. A ten-minute conversation with her at the marketing firm’s summer picnic is enough to leave me exhausted for days. She’s not going to leave until I give her what she’s looking for.
“Duke, this is Mrs. Thomas. She works with my dad. Mrs. Thomas, this is my friend Duke. We’re on a mission for democracy.”
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows knit together. “Excuse me?”
“Voting. He had some problems with his ballot, and I’m helping him.”
“Oh, isn’t that nice of you, hon!” She breaks into a smile again and pushes her chest out as she points to the I VOTED sticker on her tank top, her cleavage uncomfortably close. “I went early, before yoga. I was worried there’d be a line, but I got right in, filled in my circles, and was the first one to show up for class.”
I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. It doesn’t seem fair that Mrs. Thomas has already cast a vote and been to yoga class and we’re still trying to get Duke to the right polling place.
“Well, I’d better get going. That spa appointment won’t wait forever.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink. “I figured why not treat myself to a day off since I’ve done my part today, you know?”
“But there’s more you could do,” I blurt before I know what I’m saying.
I bite my lip. When we first started getting to know each other, Alec thought it was so cute how I do that sometimes. You’re so passionate, he’d say, giving me a soft smile. And it felt special. Like he’d never smiled at anyone but me that way.
“What was that, hon?” Mrs. Thomas says.
“It’s just that, well, if you have the day off, you could always see if anyone in your neighborhood or at senior centers needs a ride to the polls. Or—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, hon,” she says, tapping her Bluetooth. “I’ve got a call coming in and need to take it.”
“But, Mrs. Thomas—”
She’s snaking her head out of my car, though, just as fast as she slid into our space. “Tell your parents I said hello, though I’m sure I’ll see your father at work tomorrow. Nice to meet you, DeAndre!”
Duke stares at her, openmouthed, as she power-walks to her giant SUV at the back of the lot. “Is she for real?”
I let out the sigh I was holding in the whole time she was standing here, but I don’t feel any better. “Entirely. And she is absolutely going to tell my dad she saw me sitting in the car at Drip Drop with a guy when I should have been in school.”
“Your folks gonna lose their shit?”
I shrug, trying to appear calmer than I feel. “I don’t know. I’ve never skipped before.”
Duke’s jaw drops. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah. I…like school.”
“Me too, but this isn’t my first time skipping out on it.” He pauses. “Seems like we should do something special to commemorate it.”
I look at him. “You want to celebrate my truancy?”
He shoots me a lazy grin. “Well, the first time only happens once, right?”
“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head and finally turn the key in the ignition, checking my mirrors. “And we still have to get to the school and sort out this whole voting thing, remember?”
“Got it, boss,” he says in the most serious of voices.
But when I look back over, there’s a smile in his eyes.
“Thanks, DeAndre.” I try to hide mine as I put the car into reverse.
DUDE, HALF MY HOMEROOM IS COMING TONIGHT—WE GOTTA KILL
I stare down at Anthony’s text, shaking my head like I’m coming out of a fog. Like this whole thing with Marva is happening in some existence outside my regular life. I usually can’t think about anything except our gig the day of the show. Did I really just forget about it?
And then my mind goes where I’ve been trying to avoid going all day. I wonder if Kendall’s gonna be there. She’s the band’s manager, so technically she’s supposed to be at all our gigs. But with the way I handled things between us, I wouldn’t be surprised if she quit just so she wouldn’t have to see me outside of school.
Bet, I send back to Anthony, then reach into my bag to make sure my drumsticks are still there. It’s corny, carrying them around like some asshole who wants everyone to know they’re in a band. I don’t take them out at school except for lunch, and only sometimes. Drumming calms me down. Gives me something to do with my hands and mind.
“What’s that?” Marva asks without turning her head. She doesn’t miss a damn thing, even when she’s driving.
“Uh, just my sticks.”
“Your what?”
“Drumsticks. I’m in a band.”
A strange look comes across her face, like she’s just stumbled on a complex math problem that’s gonna take some time to process.
“What kind of band?”
“Indie rock? My boy Anthony raps on a couple of our songs, too, but we’re mostly rock. For now. We’re still trying to figure out our sound.”
Jesus. Guess I need to get better at pitching us.
“Interesting,” she says, looking both ways before pulling the Volvo out onto the busy street in front of Drip Drop. “What’s the name?”
“Promise not to laugh.”
“I promise,” she says with a straight face, her gaze focused on the car ahead of us.
“Drugstore Sorrow,” I mutter.
Marva cackles so long and loud it makes me smile, too.
“So, you’re shit at keeping promises. Good to know.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, finally catching her breath as she grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing holding her up. “It’s just so weird. Where did you come up with that?”
“Our lead singer, Svetlana. She swears it’s so memorable that we’re going to have a huge following as soon as more people hear us play.”