Cash and the Sorority Girl

by Ashley Bartlett

  “Oh, well. See, I was responsible for writing down the time of the SAT course. And I texted the time to Sloan so their mom could pick us up. And apparently I wrote it down wrong because I thought we were going to be here for another hour and Sloan’s mom is at an appointment and Mom is working until later this afternoon.”

  “So you and your friend are stranded at McClatchy?” I asked. Lane cocked her head at me.

  “A little, yeah,” Andy said.

  “Just a sec.” I covered the mouthpiece so I could talk to Lane. “I’m really sorry. I have to go pick up the neighbor kid.”

  Lane shook her head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks.” I uncovered my phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Rad. Thanks, dude.”

  I ended the call. “You want to chill here or come with?”

  “I’ll come with you. If that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, of course. But how strong is your stomach?”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “My stomach?”

  “Andy has her permit. Her mom and I decided that anytime Andy is traveling in a motor vehicle until she gets her license, she will be operating that motor vehicle.” I grinned.

  Lane laughed. “You and her mom are brave people.”

  “Nope. Just stubborn.”

  “Sometimes, that’s the same thing.”

  Chapter Four

  We pulled into the circle in front of McClatchy High. Sophie—or maybe that was Sloan—and Andy were lounging on the steps in front of the school. It was cloudy and dreary, but their posture suggested full sun in the middle of July.

  When Andy saw my car, she poked her friend and stood. I stopped the car and got out.

  “Hey, Cash, thanks for coming,” Andy said.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Sophie nodded.

  “Anytime, kid,” I said. Lane got out of the passenger side. “This is Lane, Laurel’s sister.”

  “Hi.” Andy formally extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” When had she started growing up? When did she get so charismatic? “This is my friend Sloan.” So this was Sloan.

  Lane shook Andy’s hand and grinned at me. The charm was working.

  “Sloan now?” I asked. Sloan and Andy nodded. “Pronouns?”

  Sloan smiled with a mix of relief and shyness. “They.”

  “Got it.” I tossed my keys to Andy. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The keys hit the ground next to Andy. She looked at me in horror. “I’m not driving. You know Freeport scares me.”

  I grimaced. “That sucks. It’s a long walk home. Hop in, Sloan.”

  Andy knew I was bluffing, but that didn’t stop her from panicking. Walking was much worse than driving. She picked up the keys. “Fine. But if we die in a fiery crash, it’s your fault.”

  “What if it’s not a fiery crash? What if a light rail crossing malfunctions and you stop on the tracks and we’re crushed to death?” Sloan said.

  “Sloan,” Andy whined.

  Sloan laughed. “Or the freeway collapses and your reflexes are too slow because you’re too inexperienced and we are pulverized?”

  Andy stomped around to the driver’s side.

  “Or what if you drive so cautiously you get pulled over for driving too slow?” I said.

  “It happened one time,” Andy shouted.

  Lane and Sloan and I laughed at Andy’s frustration. She pouted, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t actually mad. I climbed in the passenger side and Lane and Sloan piled in back. Andy handed me her backpack, and I tucked it at my feet. She carefully adjusted her seat.

  Lane leaned forward. “When I was learning to drive, my brother had just graduated from the police academy. His buddies pulled me over forty-seven times the first month I had my license.”

  Andy turned. “Forty-seven?”

  “Forty-seven.” Lane nodded. “They had some sort of bet going.”

  “What an asshole,” Andy said.

  “What did you do?” Sloan asked.

  “You mean to get back at him?” Lane asked. Sloan and Andy nodded. “I stopped pulling over. They had to either chase me when they had no cause or turn off their lights and back off. After two days of looking incompetent, they left me alone.”

  “Did they get in trouble?” Andy asked.

  “Of course not. But Lance had to buy a lot of guys a lot of beers. He said it turned out to be the most expensive prank he ever played on me.”

  “Lance doesn’t really have much forethought, does he?” I said.

  Lane shook her head and scooted back to buckle her seat belt. “He does not. But he’s fun and handsome. So, you know?”

  “Boys will be boys,” Andy said.

  We laughed. The patriarchy was funny.

  “Are you planning on starting the car any time soon, tiger?” I asked.

  Andy huffed and turned the key. She gave it just enough gas for us to creep to the exit of the circle. Cars flew by on Freeport. Andy took a couple of cleansing breaths. She nodded at herself, paced the oncoming traffic, then pulled smoothly across the lane and merged perfectly. Laurel was right. This was too easy. We should have started her on a stick.

  “Well done,” I said.

  Andy gave a short nod but didn’t take her eyes off the road. In her defense, the lanes on that stretch of Freeport were barely wide enough to accommodate an SUV. We were almost kissing the line on both sides.

  Sloan and Lane kept a reverent silence as we drove north. When Freeport split and turned into 21st, the lanes widened. Andy relaxed a little.

  “We’re coming up on the turn for Sloan’s,” I said.

  Andy nodded. “Yep. I see it.”

  She signaled sooner than necessary but turned without issue. In anticipation of the next turn on the grid, she changed lanes. She took the final turn real slow and coasted to a stop in front of Sloan’s house. We sat for a moment. Andy mouthed her checklist as she shifted into park, set the brake, and removed the keys.

  “Great job.”

  “Thanks.” Andy spun in her seat to look at Sloan. “Text me about the history project?”

  “Yeah, when I hear from Bella.” Sloan grabbed their bag. “Way to not kill us.”

  “Hey, Sloan?” I said. They stopped scooting out. “Do your parents know about the name? I don’t want to out you.”

  They dropped their eyes briefly. “Mom does. Dad doesn’t yet.”

  “Noted.”

  “Thanks.” They hurried to get out. Nerves made their movements jumpy.

  “Am I still driving?” Andy asked. I just stared at her. “Right. Got it. Whatever.” She put the key back in the ignition.

  The drive home was uneventful. Which was good. I handed Andy her bag as we walked up to the porch. She slung it over her shoulder.

  “What time does your mom get home?” I asked.

  “Three?” Andy asked. I obviously didn’t know so making it a question was not helpful. “What are you guys up to? Where’s Laurel?”

  I glanced at Lane. She shrugged. “We’ve been bingeing Shark Week,” I said.

  “Shark Week?” Andy stopped and glared. “You’re watching Shark Week while I’m studying for SATs? That’s some bullshit right there.”

  Lane laughed. “So join us.”

  “Can I?” Andy asked. “Wait, why are you watching Shark Week in the middle of the day?”

  I glanced at Lane, but she didn’t look too capable of answering. “We were at Laurel’s last night, but this morning the whole Kallen clan descended and we decided to run away.”

  “Run away?”

  “Like adults.” I unlocked the door to my side of the duplex. If Andy wanted to go to her side of the house, she could use the back porch.

  “Yeah. Running away seems pretty adult.” Andy led the way inside.

  Lane followed. She was taking deep, measured breaths, but didn’t seem nearly as panicked as she had that morning.

  “I’d offer food, but I don’t have any. We were thi
nking about ordering pizza later,” I said.

  Andy looked back outside. “It’s not pizza weather.” Whatever remnants of sun had been there were gone. It looked dreary. And the temperature was dropping. She wasn’t wrong. “It’s soup weather.” Her eyes went wide at her own suggestion. “Can we make soup? Lane, do you like soup?”

  “Doesn’t everyone like soup?” Lane asked.

  “Some people don’t like all kinds of soup.” Andy smirked pointedly at me.

  I stared right back. “Tomato soup is just warm ketchup.”

  Andy dropped her bag in the middle of the floor and flopped dramatically on the couch. “It is not.”

  Lane laughed. “It kind of is.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Okay. No tomato.” Andy sat back up. “But we could make soup. We could make two kinds. Or three. We could have a soup party.”

  “What is a soup party?” I asked. It was clearly a very silly question.

  “A party. With soup.” Andy rolled her eyes so hard she had to flop back again.

  “I’m kind of not hating the soup party idea,” Lane said.

  “See.” Andy gestured at Lane. “She understands me.”

  “Fine. Sure. Let’s have a soup party.”

  “Yes.” Andy threw her fist in the air. “I’m making chicken tortilla. Or minestrone. Oh, man. This is a conundrum.”

  “I like minestrone.” Lane sat next to Andy.

  “Deal. Minestrone it is. Cash will make that potato thing with the cheese.”

  Good to know I had an assignment. “Right, sure. Whatever you say.”

  “What kind of soup does Laurel like? Is she coming to the soup party?”

  Lane shrugged and looked at me. “We should probably call her and see if she’s escaped.”

  “Plus, you know, invite her to the soup party,” I said.

  “Are you mocking the soup party?” Andy asked.

  “Never.”

  * * *

  Laurel kicked the door instead of knocking or letting herself in. I got off the couch to answer it. When I opened the door, I realized why. Her hands were full of groceries. I took the bags from one of her hands.

  “Thanks.” She slid past me to drop her bags on the kitchen table.

  Andy hopped up from the couch and bounded into the kitchen. “Are those soup ingredients?”

  “You’re a strange child,” Laurel said.

  “Wait until you taste my minestrone. Then we will see who is strange.”

  “You’re kind of adding credence to my whole ‘you’re a strange child’ theory.”

  Andy sighed and started unpacking groceries. She separated the ingredients into different piles for different soups. When she came across a leek, she held it up and examined it from different angles.

  “It’s a leek. For mine,” I said.

  Andy looked at me skeptically and put it next to the bag of potatoes. Next she found a bag of salt and vinegar chips. “Okay, these are definitely not for soup.”

  “In my defense, I didn’t know there was a rule that all groceries had to be soup ingredients.” Laurel took the bag from Andy. “Lane, I got snacks,” she called.

  Lane shuffled into the kitchen. She looked taken aback by the chaos of Andy’s sorting system, but then she saw the chips Laurel was holding. “You’re the best.” She grabbed the bag, then started poking around in the still packed grocery bags.

  “Here.” Laurel dug into a specific bag and pulled out a huge bag of M&Ms. It was at least two pounds. “But, for the record, you’re sick.”

  Lane took the candy. “Maybe my palate is more developed than yours.”

  “It’s unlikely.”

  “You’re not going to mix those are you?” Andy asked with barely disguised disgust.

  “Don’t take her side.” Lane nodded at Laurel.

  “It’s not a side. One person does not constitute a side. You’re the only person who thinks that’s okay,” Laurel said.

  I could hear the echoes of childhood battle in the cadence of their speech. “Leave her alone. If she wants to pollute her taste buds, that’s her business.”

  Lane made a face at Laurel. Laurel made it back.

  “What’s this?” Andy held up a pepper.

  “Poblano. Mine.” Laurel pointed at her pile.

  Lane settled into a chair and opened the bag of chips. After a handful, she opened the M&Ms.

  “Heathen. Barbarian,” Laurel said.

  “Bite me, La La.”

  Andy and I turned and stared at Lane.

  “La La?” I asked.

  Laurel’s face slowly dropped in horror. “Dammit.”

  “What?” Lane started to smile. “They don’t know?”

  “Now they do,” Laurel said.

  “You call her La La?” I struggled to keep the glee from my tone.

  “When I was a baby, I couldn’t say Laurel very well. It became La La.”

  “This makes me unspeakably happy. I hope you realize this.”

  “Oh, I do.” Lane poured a handful of candy into her mouth and smirked at Laurel.

  Laurel just shook her head and continued unpacking groceries.

  Andy wouldn’t let anyone start cooking until she had unpacked all of the grocery bags and sorted them. The pile of not-soup ingredients on the counter grew until it was larger than the soup piles. I realized Laurel had just gone grocery shopping for me. It was almost as if she was judging my empty fridge.

  Lane went back to Shark Week. Somehow, I got stuck cutting all the veggies for Andy’s minestrone while Andy migrated to the couch with Lane.

  “So how bad was it that we left?” I asked quietly.

  “It was goddamn brilliant, honestly,” Laurel said.

  “Were they all angry though?”

  Laurel started in on her own pile of produce. “Livid. If I hadn’t been the one to catch their collective ire, I’d think it was hilarious.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll think it’s funny in a couple of days. My brothers are shockingly unimaginative in their responses. Lance wants to fight someone. Logan wants to go see his therapist to process why Lane doesn’t trust him. And then he wants us all to go to group therapy to process why Lane doesn’t trust him.”

  “I don’t know why you didn’t introduce us sooner. That Logan is a hoot.”

  Laurel scraped the diced peppers off her cutting board into a bowl while holding scary eye contact with me. “You’re so funny.”

  “What? I liked how he layered beige over beige. Bold move, but he really nailed it.”

  Laurel tried not to smile. “It’s his signature color.”

  “To match his soul.”

  “Yep. He’s just a dude who stands by and can’t intervene because he sees the value in both sides. He is what’s wrong with moderation.” She started going a little harsh on her onion.

  “What exactly did I miss?”

  She sighed and set down the knife. After a minute, she pulled out a chair at the table and sank into it. “My mother’s first question was about which frat Laney was at.”

  “Okay.” I sat next to her.

  “I didn’t know because why the fuck would I know that? So I told her it wasn’t really important who was hosting the party.” Laurel looked at me for confirmation. I nodded emphatically. “She was going on about Sig Eps and the type of girls who go to their parties or some shit.”

  “The type of girls?” I hoped I was misunderstanding. “So Sig Eps are rapey and girls who go there deserve it?”

  Laurel just nodded. “Logan thought I was being too harsh on Mom. She was just stating facts.” She rolled her eyes hard on facts.

  “That’s really more of an interpretation of facts. Like the fact that they are rapey doesn’t—” I stopped talking when I realized Laurel was glaring. “Yeah, okay. You already knew that.”

  “Anyway. I said it probably was the Sig Ep house and she was probably wearing a tight skirt and was probably drunk. And
then I volunteered to be the one to tell her that she deserved it. So they all got even more mad at me. That’s when I kicked them out of my apartment and I think I might have disowned them. It’s all a blur. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t one of my better moments.”

  “It sounds like a damn good moment to me,” Lane said.

  Laurel jerked. I looked up. Lane was standing in the doorway.

  “Shit. You weren’t supposed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Laurel stood and got halfway to Lane before she stopped.

  Lane closed the distance and hugged Laurel. She said something, but it was muffled by Laurel so I couldn’t hear.

  I left them in the kitchen. Andy was still entranced by sharks. I leaned over the back of the couch and poked her.

  “Did you know they can like train sharks to do tricks?” Andy asked without turning around.

  “That’s way cooler than dolphins.”

  “Dolphins are overrated,” Andy said.

  “Hey, I have to run back to the store. I need you to drive me.”

  “Cash.” She drew it out. I sighed. She turned and caught sight of Laurel and Lane hugging in the kitchen. “Oh. Right. Okay, I’ll drive you to the store.”

  “Thanks.”

  She turned off the TV and grabbed her shoes off the floor. “I need a sweatshirt.”

  “You want to run next door, then meet me out front?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Two minutes.” She went out the back door. After a second, the door on her side slammed.

  I collected my wallet and keys. “Hey, guys?” I said quietly. Laurel and Lane separated enough to look at me. “Andy forgot to add some ingredients to the grocery list so we’re going back for them.”

  Lane nodded. Laurel half-smiled at my weak attempt to give them space.

  “See you in a bit,” Laurel said.

  Andy was leaning against the car when I got outside. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “It will be.”

  Andy took my answer at face value. I hoped she held on to that sweetness a little longer.

  Chapter Five

  “I really am sorry.” Laurel barely glanced at me as she tied her oxfords.

  “It’s fine. Lane and I get along just fine. We will probably watch sharks and eat soup. It’s basically a perfect day.” I stretched and tried to grab Laurel, but she stood and shrugged into a blazer. Foiled by my lack of desire to get out of bed.