All Kinds of Bad

by Rachel Rust

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Infinite

  I stood in front of my full-length mirror and looked at my outfit: a tight green tank top that highlighted my red hair and short denim shorts that my mom hated. They made my butt look good, even though showing off my legs was not my current favorite fashion choice.

  But it was July, and hotter than hell outside. Shorts were a necessity.

  The long scar on my knee was less pink with each passing week. Three months had gone by since the surgery. When the weather had first begun to warm up, I had put off wearing shorts as long as I could until the humidity had gotten the best of me. My parents tried to not look at the scar, minimizing it, saying it wasn’t that bad. It was their attempt to make me feel better about it, but it usually made me hate it more. Nathan, however, loved it, saying it was a part of me.

  A little wear and tear was good for us all. Everyone had scars of some kind.

  I grabbed my car keys, and before leaving, took a moment to admire the newly framed award now hanging on the wall over my desk.

  The South Dakota High School Journalism Association

  Awards to

  Lydia Lanski

  1st Place for Investigative Journalism

  My article on Nathan’s false incrimination had not only been on the front page of the school newspaper, but it was even picked up by the Capitol Journal, in Pierre.

  Maybe working for the school newspaper didn’t offer fancy clinics run by NYC pros, but it had its perks. I got to be nosey and ask questions and make people aware of important things. Okay, so not everything I wrote was super important—my last article had been on Kindles vs. iPads—but there was always the potential for great things. And most of all, I liked it. And it hadn’t made my toes bleed like those damn ballet shoes.

  The sun was low in the western sky when I parked Frankie in Nathan’s driveway. Humidity coated the hot July air, making my shirt stick to my back. The gravel of the driveway crunched under my sandals with every step. Their backyard was unlike I had ever seen it before with tables all over and strings of white lights hanging on anything that would stand still. People milled all around—far more than I had imagined when Heather had casually mentioned a backyard barbeque.

  I spotted my friends at a table on the back patio. Nina and Daniel fed each other potato chips while Taya sat next to Lance—probably talking his ear off about some ideas for the newspaper. I raised my hand to wave at them, and a pair of arms swooped in around my waist. I spun around and came face to face with Nathan.

  “Happy birthday!” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Thanks.” He took my hand in his. “Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”

  He led me across the backyard to the garage. Both front garage doors were closed. “Wait here,” he said.

  He disappeared inside the small door on the side of the garage. Despite the warm air, I wrapped my arms around myself. Impatient. Eager.

  The garage door on the far side jolted, then a low rumble sounded as it creaked and heaved its way upward. Slowly, I walked toward it. But my steps were cut short by a sudden powerful rumble, much louder and more commanding than the garage door. Our friends and Nathan’s family gathered behind me.

  The rumble revved louder, and my eyes widened.

  Caroline.

  Her engine filled the air with a loud and intimidating thunder, rattling in my chest. I rushed forward, but before I reached the open door, lights beamed on, illuminating the gravel driveway. I stopped. The rumbling sound changed. It was mellow and throaty … and getting closer.

  Slowly, she made her appearance, round headlights first, then the sleekness of her low red form. Her new tires crunched the gravel underneath them, eager to cling to whatever road lay ahead. The darkened space of the garage behind Caroline lit up red as Nathan applied the brakes.

  He emerged from the car, extending his hand to me. “I believe I owe you a ride.”

  I placed my hand in his, ignoring the immature comments from our friends behind me, and let him walk me to the passenger side where he opened the door for me. “Thank you,” I said, getting a wink in return.

  Caroline was low to the ground—even for my five-foot-four frame. The black vinyl seat was deep and made me feel short as my knees could barely hook over the edge.

  Nathan slid into his driver’s seat, his long frame a better fit than mine. He put her first gear. “Ready?”

  “Hell yes.”

  He disengaged the clutch, and Caroline lurched into action as though she had been sitting in that garage doing nothing but building up energy to break free into the world. My fingers clutched the sides of the seat. Down the gravel we went, then with a good yank of the wheel he had us on the highway.

  The familiar scene of Thorn Creek sailed by my window. The one and only stoplight was green as we sped through the intersection, past The Pit Stop. I waited for lights from Rollins’s squad car, but they never came. We continued down the highway, speeding down a black ribbon of road cutting through the grassland. Caroline wasn’t prim and proper like new cars. She had a fierceness behind her, a growl that protruded not just from the noise she made, but from her very being. She was a kick-ass lady.

  I rested my head back on my seat, as rolling hills of grassland buzzed by. Nothing but knolls of amber grass swaying in the July breeze. The growl of Caroline was lost as my eyes absorbed the scenery.

  The black road before us stretched infinitely toward the horizon; the possibilities were endless.

  Nathan’s hand landed on my knee. “Wanna go skinny dipping?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Let’s do it.”

  The End

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