Roadside Assistance

by Amy Clipston

  “It’s a really good friendship.” I bit my sandwich. “Okay, so maybe it’s more like a best friendship since we talk about nearly everything.”

  Chelsea grimaced with frustration. “Emily, are you blind? You guys are the perfect couple.”

  “No, we’re not. We’re very different.” I polished my pear with a napkin. “We just like some of the same things, like cars, movies, and music.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you see? He really likes you.”

  “Yes, he does.” I tapped the table for emphasis. “As a friend. If he liked me more than that, then he would’ve kissed me by now.” I wished she were right. Oh, how I’d love to be kissed by Zander …

  “He won’t kiss you if you’re giving him mixed signals. You probably haven’t shown him that you want to be kissed.” She bit into her club sandwich.

  My stomach flip-flopped at the thought. I did want to show Zander how I felt, but the idea of confessing that I had really strong feelings for him scared me, especially when I wasn’t exactly certain what I felt. I liked him as more than a friend, but it was much more complicated than that. There was no way I could even put that into words.

  I spotted Zander approaching with a tray full of food and two bottles of tea. He grinned and my heart fluttered. Perhaps Chelsea was right, and Zander wanted to date me. And that thought terrified me. Was I willing to risk our friendship?

  While I was scared about getting hurt again, I was more scared of losing Zander for good. It wasn’t ever possible to go back to being friends after dating a guy. Once it was over, it was over for good. I would’ve rather been his friend and secretly wished for more than risk losing his friendship all together.

  Another broken heart would be too much.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Zander said, handing me an iced tea and sitting in the chair to my right “How’s your day going?”

  “Thanks,” I said, shaking the bottle. “The day is going well. Chels?”

  “Just fine.” She smirked at me and I shot her a warning glance.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Zander asked me, unwrapping his sub sandwich. He opened a packet of mustard and squeezed it over the ham and cheese.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was planning to work on the Dodge or finish the AC in my dad’s truck.”

  “I think I know something even more fun that we can do,” he said, lifting the sandwich.

  “What’s that?” I looked at Chelsea, who was grinning again. I kicked her under the table and she grumbled and glared at me in response.

  “It’s Halloween,” he said.

  “Huh?” I said. “Halloween is Monday.”

  “Right, but we’re invited to a costume party on Saturday.” He turned to Chelsea. “You’re invited too.”

  “Thanks for the invitation, but I can’t make it.” She lifted a potato chip. “I promised my mom I’d babysit so she and my stepdad can go to a party. She never gets to go out alone with my stepdad.”

  “Where’s your party?” I asked Zander.

  “Kristin’s house.” He nodded toward Whitney’s table, where Whitney and her group were talking and laughing loudly. They’d stopped staring at us a few weeks ago; I assumed they’d realized Zander had taken up permanent lunchtime residence at my table, and they simply had to accept it.

  “Kristin’s, huh?” I frowned, contemplating the idea of spending Halloween with Whitney’s friends.

  “Is that a problem?” Zander lifted his eyebrows.

  “No,” I said quickly, lifting my bottle of tea.

  “It’ll be fun,” he said. “Kristin’s parties are never dull.”

  “You should go,” Chelsea said. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Whoops,” Zander said, standing. “I forgot mayo. You guys need anything?”

  Chelsea and I shook our heads.

  “I’ll be right back.” Zander sauntered back toward the kitchen area, and I silently admired his tight jeans.

  Snapping out of my trance, I looked at Chelsea. “I can’t go to that party without you,” I said. “There’s no way.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She waved off the comment. “You can do anything with Zander by your side. You’ll be the envy of the party.”

  I shook my head. “Too much pressure.”

  “Do you trust me?” Chelsea’s smile was wide.

  “I don’t know … Should I?”

  “Yes.” She placed her sandwich on the tray. “I have the perfect costume for you. We used it last year at the community theater. I can make you so beautiful that Zander Stewart will fall head over heels for you and kiss you Saturday night.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Trust me, Emily.” Chelsea’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I’ll come over early Saturday night and do your hair and makeup. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  I grimaced. “It’s just a Halloween party.”

  “Just trust me, Emily. You’ll thank me later.” She winked. “You’ll get your first kiss from Zander — guaranteed.”

  “I don’t see how a costume —”

  “Just trust me, Emily. Please.” She folded her hands, pleading. “Please let me dress you up. You won’t regret it.”

  “This better not be something really over the top. You know I hate makeup.” Something about the gleam in Chelsea’s eye had me worried.

  “Just let me dress you up this one time. Then I promise I won’t do it again until your wedding.”

  “Wedding?” I rolled my eyes. “Chelsea, please.”

  Zander approached the table. “What were you two talking about?” He sat down beside me and opened the mayonnaise packet.

  “The perfect costume for Emily,” Chelsea said, looking proud. “I’m going to make her up Saturday night.”

  “Cool.” He smiled. “So we’re going, right?”

  “I’m warning you, I don’t do Halloween parties.” I bit into the pear.

  “She’ll be there. I’ll make sure of that,” Chelsea said with a smile.

  I inwardly groaned. What was I getting into?

  Saturday night I sat on a chair in front of Chelsea and blinked my eyes. “Are you almost done?” I whined. “My eyes are so itchy. I don’t think I can stand it with all of this junk on my eyelids.”

  “Quit moving,” she hissed. “You’re going to make my hand slip, and you’ll wind up with eyeliner on your nose.”

  I groaned. “This is excruciating.”

  “You should try it from my point of view. You’re a terrible client.” She bit her bottom lip and continued painting my face with who-knows-what.

  “When I’m done with you, Zander is going to fall head over heels for you,” she said with a grin. “He won’t know what to do when he sees you.”

  “He might run in the other direction,” I grumbled. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but he’s used to an ordinary girl. He’s not expecting a girl who’s dressed up like a queen.”

  “Trust me,” she said for the hundredth time since she’d shown up to help me dress. “This will all be worth it.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “We have a few minutes. Just relax. He had to run an errand, so I think it’ll be a bit.” She placed the eyeliner onto the dresser next to me and then grabbed something else from her bottomless makeup bag.

  “How do you know he had to run an errand?”

  “As I said,” she sang, “trust me. You’ll be excited.”

  “Are you almost finished?” I asked.

  “Quit whining,” she said, fishing through a small bag filled with lipstick tubes. “It’s very unqueenlike.”

  I glanced across the room toward my mirror, and I didn’t recognize myself. The makeup was perfect — bringing out the deep green of my eyes. Chelsea had spent nearly an hour piling my curls on top of my head. I was wearing a slip and pantyhose, as my costume still hung in a zipper bag in the closet. I didn’t know exactly what the costume was, but Chelsea h
ad been calling me Queen Emily since she’d shown up.

  She stepped back, studied me, and then smiled. “Perfect.” She crossed the room and opened the closet door. “Wait until you see this.”

  Outside I heard a big block engine roar, and I wondered what kind of car was driving through our neighborhood. It sounded as if it parked nearby, perhaps even next door.

  Chelsea placed the garment bag on my bed and unzipped it, revealing a hunter green and gold dress.

  My eyes widened with surprise. “What is it?”

  “You’re going to be Queen Elizabeth the First.” She pulled a few accessories from a tote bag, including a sequined gold crown and a large white collar.

  I cupped my hand over my mouth. The costume was so unlike me, but it was so captivating that excitement surged through me. “I can’t wear this. It’s too beautiful.”

  She laughed. “You’re so silly. You don’t even realize that the dress is more you than you know.”

  “What do you mean?” I ran my fingers over the velvety soft gown.

  “You’re a gorgeous girl, Emily. This costume is actually perfect for you. Zander is going to flip.” She lifted the gown and unzipped the back. “Let’s get you dressed before he gets here.”

  I descended the stairs ten minutes later clad in the costume, complete with high heels and a crown, and nearly fell twice on my way down. In addition to my innate lack of coordination in anything but sneakers, the dress was awkward, probably weighing close to ten pounds with a huge crinoline underneath, giving the gown a distinctive bell shape. Chelsea followed close behind me, holding up the long skirt like my lady-in-waiting.

  We stepped into the den, where my dad and Darlene greeted me, wide-eyed.

  “Emily,” my dad gasped, standing. “You’re beautiful.”

  “No, Brad,” Darlene said, holding up her camera. “She’s stunning, breathtaking, and just plain gorgeous.” She pointed toward the fireplace. “Let me get a few photos.”

  “Maybe we should wait for Zander,” Chelsea said. “He should be here soon.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Darlene directed us to the fireplace and took several photos of Chelsea and me giving cheesy smiles. “The costume is beautiful.” Darlene ran her hand over the sleeve. “Where did you find it, Chelsea?”

  “We actually bought it last year for our community theater group.” Chelsea placed her makeup bag on the floor. “I normally make the costumes, but we decided to buy this one at a shop. I tailored it for the actress, and she was shaped similar to Emily.”

  “It’s just fabulous. Simply stunning.” Darlene shook her head in awe. “Whitney will love this.”

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “She went over to Kristin’s early to help her set up,” Darlene said, examining the gold trim on the costume. “She was going to dress there.”

  “Zander!” Logan yelled from the kitchen. “You look so cool!”

  My stomach somersaulted, and I grasped Chelsea’s arm. “What if he doesn’t like the costume?”

  She laughed. “Emily, if only you could truly see yourself. He’s going to be hypnotized by your beauty.”

  “She’s right.” My dad kissed my cheek. “You’re stunning, Baby Doll, absolutely stunning.”

  I glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and touched my face. I didn’t recognize myself. I was pretty — or maybe glamorous was a more appropriate word. Chelsea had completely transformed me into a sixteenth-century monarch. I just hoped that Zander would approve. I spotted him in the doorway and took a deep breath.

  Turning, I faced him and my eyes widened in surprise. He was clad in a black racing firesuit covered in various logos, including motor oil, tires, and fuel additives. The suit was snug with a zipper running up the length of it, bringing out his muscular frame. He looked positively gorgeous.

  “You look amazing,” I said.

  Zander studied me, his eyes wide. His mouth gaped, but no sound came out. And my heart soared. So Chelsea had been right all along: he did like me. Maybe I would get that first kiss tonight … My cheeks flushed even more at that thought.

  My dad chuckled, smacking Zander’s shoulder. “She looks good, huh?” he asked.

  Zander cleared his throat. “Yes, she does.” He smiled at me and bowed. “You look dazzling, Your Majesty.”

  “Thank you,” I replied with a little curtsey.

  Chelsea winked at me. “I need to run. My mom and stepdad are leaving soon for their party.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hugging her. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I whispered.

  “You better,” she said. She said good-bye to everyone and then exited through the kitchen.

  Darlene directed us to the fireplace. “Let me get a few photos before you leave.”

  We posed for what felt like a hundred photos before Zander took my hand and led me through the kitchen to the back door.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said, squeezing my hand slightly. “I guess you could say it goes with my costume.”

  “Oh?” As we walked the short path to the fence dividing our yards, my heart turned over in my chest yet again. He looked so handsome that I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, taking both of my hands in his and walking backward while leading me the rest of the way.

  I followed instructions, a smile growing on my lips. I couldn’t even imagine what he had in store for me.

  “Okay, open them!” he said.

  My eyes flew open, spotting a shiny, dark metallic blue ‘69 Camaro, and I blew out a surprised breath, cupping my hands to my mouth.

  “Where …? How …?” I stammered, the words floating through my head but not forming sentences.

  He laughed, tugging me toward the car. “When I told Jack my idea, he helped me find a Camaro SS.” He held up the keys and jingled them. “I was going to let you drive, but I guess in that dress it won’t be physically possible.” He pointed to the skirt, which nearly stood up on its own.

  “Wow.” I ran my finger over the fender, marveling at the beautiful paint job. Peeking in the window, my jaw dropped. The black vinyl interior was perfect — clean and shiny. “Who owns this?”

  “Some guy named Pete,” he said, opening the passenger door. “He’s good friends with Jack.”

  “How long did it take him to restore it?” I asked, lifting my skirt and climbing into the seat, trying to make the sea of material fit inside the car without revealing my slip and pantyhose beneath it.

  “He told me it took him three years to get it perfect.” Zander slammed the door and came around to the driver side.

  While he got buckled in, I turned around and examined the car, shaking my head in amazement. The car was exactly the way I’d imagined mine would look after I’d finished my restoration, except that my car would’ve been purple instead of blue.

  “It’s nice, huh?” He turned the key and the car roared to life.

  “Oh,” I moaned, closing my eyes, taking in the purr of the engine. “That is the sound of heaven.”

  He laughed. “You really are a Chevy girl.” He threw the car in gear and steered out of the driveway, the engine roaring with power. “He said I can keep it until Monday, so you can drive it tomorrow if you’d like.”

  When we came to a stop sign, I turned to him and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “No problemo,” he said, negotiating a turn. “I thought we’d have fun tonight.”

  “Where’d you get the racing suit?”

  “This belonged to Jack. He used to race in his younger days.” He nodded toward the backseat. “The helmet’s back there, but it’s not very comfortable.”

  “Don’t wear it. Then I wouldn’t be able to see your face.”

  He steered down Kristin’s street. “Isn’t the point of Halloween to be unrecognizable?”

  “I’m not wearing a mask,” I said.

  “I’m glad.” He grinned. “It would be a crime to cover up your beautiful face.”


  My pulse skittered. This night was getting more perfect by the second — first he was speechless when he saw me, then he borrowed my dream car to escort me to the party, and now he told me I was beautiful. I couldn’t imagine what would happen next. A kiss could make the night complete. My heart turned over at the thought.

  A line of cars snaked down Kristin’s street and music blasted from inside the house. He parked behind a red Toyota Prius, then came around the car and opened my door. I felt like Zander’s prom date as he took my hand and helped me from the Camaro. Hand in hand, we walked up the driveway toward the front door. We stepped into the foyer and found a group of kids talking and laughing in the den.

  Whitney, dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, spotted me and screeched before coming over and taking my hands in hers. “You look awesome, Emily! Holy cow!”

  She called her friends over, and they prattled on about how beautiful I looked, sounding like mother hens. The attention was actually kind of nice.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zander grinning, almost gloating over me. Wow.

  Zander handed me a cup of punch, and I stood with Whitney and her friends, answering what felt like a zillion questions about my costume and who had fixed my hair and makeup. The conversation turned to gossip about people I didn’t know, and I felt out of place. I silently wished Chelsea’s parents had found a babysitter.

  I glanced over at Zander standing with a group of guys near the entrance to the kitchen and he shot me a warm smile. I felt as if I were floating on a cloud.

  I suddenly felt the urge to use the restroom and dreaded the thought of dealing with the crinoline and skirts. I leaned over to Whitney. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “There’s one off the kitchen and then two more upstairs,” she said. “Want me to go with you?”

  “I’ll find my way. Thanks.” Finding the kitchen bathroom occupied, I ventured upstairs, passing a group of girls who looked familiar from the cafeteria. I gave them a slight smile and steered through a large bedroom to a master bathroom.

  On my way back through the bedroom, I stopped when I heard voices outside the door.