Along for the Ride

by Sarah Dessen

  So maybe that was why we always seemed to be talking about time as we wandered the aisles of stores under fluorescent lights, or drank coffee in a dark room while his clothes fluffed, or just drove through the mostly empty streets, en route to somewhere. Time ahead, like college, and behind, like childhood. But mostly, we discussed making up for lost time, if such a thing was possible. Eli seemed to think it was, at least in my case.

  ‘You know what they say,’ he’d said to me a few nights earlier, as we helped ourselves to Slurpees at the Gas/Gro around three A.M. ‘It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.’

  I picked up a straw, poking down the pink slush in my cup. ‘I wouldn’t say my childhood was unhappy, though. It just wasn’t…’

  Eli waited, fitting a lid onto his cup with a click.

  ‘… very childlike,’ I finished. I took a sip of my Slurpee, then added a bit of blue flavor for variety, a trick he’d taught me a few nights before. ‘My brother had kind of worn my parents out on the whole kid thing. They didn’t have the patience to do it again.’

  ‘But you were a kid,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I was,’ I agreed. ‘But in their minds, that was something I could overcome, if I just tried hard enough.’

  He gave me one of the looks I’d come to recognize, his expression a mix of befuddlement and respect. You kind of had to see it to understand. Then he said, ‘In our house, it was the total opposite. Kid central, all the time.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Yup. You know how there’s one house in the neighborhood where everyone goes to ride bikes, or watch cartoons, or sleep over, or build a tree house?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. Then I added, ‘I mean, I’ve heard of such things.’

  ‘That was our place. Because there were four of us, we were always halfway to any game of kickball or dodgeball. Plus my mom was always around, so we had the best snacks. Her pizza wraps were legendary.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said, following him up to the register. The cashier, the older woman I’d come to recognize, looked up from her magazine, smiling at him as she rung us up. ‘Your mom sounds great.’

  ‘She is.’ He said this so simply, matter-of-factly, as he pushed a couple of bills across to the cashier. ‘She’s so good it’s hard for her to convince anyone to move out. It took her forever to get rid of my sister and older brother. And Jake’s the baby, and totally spoiled, so she’s probably stuck with him until some girl is stupid enough to marry him.’

  Hearing this, I felt my face flush, remembering our fast, fumbled moment in the dunes. I swallowed, focusing on Wanda as I paid for my Slurpee.

  It wasn’t until we were headed outside that he said suddenly, ‘Look, no offense. I mean, about what I said. About Jake. I know you two –’

  ‘I’m not offended,’ I said, cutting him off before he could begin to try and define this. ‘Just humiliated.’

  ‘We don’t have to talk about it.’

  ‘Good.’ I took a long draw off my straw. We walked in silence to the car, but then I said, ‘In my defense, though, I don’t have a lot of experience with, um, guys. So that was…’

  ‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said, opening his door. ‘Really. My brother is a piece of work. Let’s just leave it at that.’

  I smiled gratefully, as I slid into the front seat. ‘I have one of those, too. A piece-of-work brother. Except he’s in Europe, where he’s been mooching off my parents for a couple of years now.’

  ‘You can mooch from overseas?’

  ‘Hollis can,’ I told him. ‘He’s got it down to an art form, practically.’

  Eli considered this as we stepped out into the hot, windy night. ‘Seems kind of selfish,’ he observed. ‘Considering he got the only childhood.’

  I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. ‘Well, like you said. Maybe it’s not too late. For my happy childhood, and all.’

  ‘It’s not,’ Eli said.

  ‘You sound awfully sure of that,’ I told him. ‘So sure I have to wonder if you’ve done this kind of making-up thing before.’

  He shook his head, taking a sip off his straw. ‘Nope. I have the opposite problem, actually.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Too much of a childhood.’ We walked over to the truck, and he pulled his door open. ‘All I’ve ever done was goof around. I even managed to make playing a living.’

  ‘With the bike thing.’

  He nodded. ‘And then you wake up one day, and you’ve got nothing of value to show for all those years. Just a bunch of stupid stories, which seem even stupider the more time passes.’

  I looked at him over the top of the car. ‘If you really feel that way,’ I said, ‘then why do you keep encouraging me to do all this stuff?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, ‘you can always break curfew or have a slumber party. It’s never too late. So you should, because…’

  He trailed off. By now, I knew not to fill in the gap.

  ‘… that’s not the case with everything,’ he said. ‘Or so I’m learning.’

  Now, ahead of me, the lights were blinking over the pins, on and off. The lane stretched out ahead, the wood polished and worn, and I tried to imagine how, as a kid, it would look even longer, almost endless.

  ‘You’re overthinking,’ Eli called from behind me. ‘Just throw it down there.’

  I stepped back, trying to remember his form, and swung the ball out in front of me. It took flight – which I was pretty sure was not supposed to happen – then landed with a loud thud. In the next lane. Before rolling, oh-so-slowly, into the gutter.

  ‘Hey!’ a voice bellowed from the smoking section. ‘Careful there!’

  I felt my face flush, totally embarrassed, as the ball rolled to the end of the lane, disappearing behind the pins. A moment later, there was a thunk, and Eli appeared back beside me, holding it out to me.

  ‘I think I’d better not,’ I said. ‘Clearly, this is not my strong suit.’

  ‘It was your first shot,’ he replied. ‘What, you thought you’d get a strike or something?’

  I swallowed. In fact, this was exactly what I’d thought. Or at least hoped for. ‘I just…’ I said. ‘I’m not good at this kind of thing.’

  ‘Because you’ve never done it.’ He reached over, taking my hands, and put the ball in it. ‘Try again. And this time, let go earlier.’

  He went back to the bench, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. It’s just a game, I told myself. Not so important. Then, with this still in mind, I stepped forward and released the ball. It wasn’t pretty – wobbling crookedly, and very slowly – but I took out two pins on the right. Which was…

  ‘Not bad,’ Eli called out as the machine reset itself. ‘Not bad at all.’

  We’d played two full games, during which he bowled constant strikes and spares, and I focused on staying out of the gutter. Still, I managed a couple of good frames, which I surprised myself by actually being kind of happy about. So much so that as we left, I plucked the score sheet from the trash can where he’d tossed it, folding it down to little square. When I looked up, I realized Eli was watching me.

  ‘Documentation,’ I explained. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, keeping his eyes on me as I slipped it into my pocket. ‘Of course.’

  Outside, we walked across the rain-slicked parking lot to my car, leaving the blinking BOWL neon sign behind us. ‘So now you’ve done bowling, breaking curfew, almost getting your ass kicked at a party,’ he said. ‘What else is on the list?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What else did you do for your first eighteen years?’

  ‘Like I said,’ he said as I unlocked the car, ‘I’m not so sure that you should go by my example.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I have regrets,’ he said. ‘Also, I’m a guy. And guys do different stuff.’

  ‘Like ride bikes?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Like have food fights. And break stuff. And set off firecracke
rs on people’s front porches. And…’

  ‘Girls can’t set off firecrackers on people’s front porches?’

  ‘They can,’ he said as I cranked the engine. ‘But they’re smart enough not to. That’s the difference.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think food fights and breaking stuff are equal-opportunity activities.’

  ‘Fine. But if you’re going to do the firecracker thing, you’re on your own. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘What,’ I said, ‘you afraid or something?’

  ‘Nope.’ He sat back. ‘Just been there, done that. Done the getting hauled down to the police station thing because of it, too. I appreciate your quest and everything, but I have to draw the line somewhere.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said, holding up my hand. ‘My quest?’

  He turned to look at me. We were at a red light, no other cars anywhere in sight. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You know, like in Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars. You’re searching for something you lost or need. It’s a quest.’

  I just looked at him.

  ‘Maybe it’s a guy thing,’ he said. ‘Fine, don’t call it a quest. Call it chicken salad, I don’t care. My point is, I’m in, but within reason. That’s all I’m saying.’

  Here I’d thought we were just hanging out. Killing time. But gender specific or not, I kind of liked the idea of searching for something you’d lost or needed. Or both.

  The light finally changed, dropping down to green, but I didn’t hit the gas. Instead I said, ‘Chicken salad?’

  ‘What? You never said that as a kid?’

  ‘“Call it chicken salad”?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘Um, no?’

  ‘Wow.’ He shook his head. ‘What have you been doing all your life?’

  As soon as he said this, a million answers popped into my head, each of them true and legitimate. There were endless ways to spend your days, I knew that, none of them right or wrong. But given the chance for a real do-over, another way around, who would say no? Not me. Not then. Call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or even without it, I was in, too.

  ‘Well,’ Maggie said, ‘that’s an interesting outfit.’

  We all looked down at Thisbe, who was strapped in her stroller, still in the trance she’d fallen into as soon as I wheeled her down the driveway, eyes wide open, fully silent. ‘Interesting,’ I repeated. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘Did Heidi put this on her?’ Leah said, crouching down so she was at Thisbe’s eye level.

  ‘No. I did.’ Leah looked at Maggie, who raised her eyebrows. ‘What? I think she looks cute.’

  ‘She’s wearing black,’ Maggie said.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So how often do you see infants in black?’

  I looked down at the baby again. When my dad went to go get ready for dinner, I’d realized she, too, probably needed a change, so I went to her bureau to find a fresh Onesie. Since everything was pink, or had pink incorporated somewhere, I’d decided to be contrary, digging in the very bottom drawer until I found a plain black Onesie and some bright green pants. I thought she looked kind of rock and roll, personally, but judging by the looks I was getting now – not to mention the odd expression Heidi had given me as we said good-bye – maybe I was wrong.

  ‘You know,’ I said, ‘just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you have to wear pink.’

  ‘No,’ Leah agreed, ‘but you don’t have to dress like a truck driver, either.’

  ‘She doesn’t look like a truck driver,’ I said. ‘God.’

  Leah cocked her head to the side. ‘You’re right. She looks like a farmer. Or maybe a construction worker.’

  ‘Because she’s not in pink?’

  ‘She’s a baby,’ Maggie told me. ‘Babies wear pastels.’

  ‘Says who?’ I asked. Esther opened her mouth to answer, but before she could I said, ‘Society. The same society, I might add, that dictates that little girls should always be sugar and spice and everything nice, which encourages them to not be assertive. And that, in turn, then leads to low self-esteem, which can lead to eating disorders and increased tolerance and acceptance of domestic, sexual, and substance abuse.’

  They all looked at me. ‘You get all that,’ Leah said after a moment, ‘from a pink Onesie?’

  Just then, Thisbe began to whimper, turning her head from side to side. ‘Uh-oh,’ I said, pushing the stroller forward, then back. ‘This does not bode well.’

  ‘Is she hungry or something?’ Esther asked.

  ‘Maybe it’s her low self-esteem,’ Leah said.

  I ignored this as I bent down to unbuckle the baby, scooping her up into my arms. Her skin was warm, her cries just starting to get loud as I turned her around, locking my hands around her waist, and bent my knees. Up, down. Up, down. By the third round, she was quiet.

  ‘Wow,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ve got the touch, huh?’

  ‘It’s called the elevator,’ I told her. ‘Works every time.’

  They all watched me for a moment. Then Esther said, ‘You know, I think Auden’s right. The black isn’t so weird. It’s kind of radical, actually.’

  ‘Of course you’d say that,’ Leah said. ‘Look what you’re wearing.’

  Esther glanced down at her dark T-shirt. ‘This isn’t black. It’s navy.’

  The other two girls snorted. Then Leah turned to me, saying, ‘That’s what she said all during her goth period, when she wouldn’t wear anything but black. Black clothes, black shoes…’

  ‘Black eyeliner, black lipstick,’ Maggie added.

  ‘Are you guys ever going to let that go?’ Esther asked. She sighed. ‘It was a phase, all right? Like you two never did anything you regretted in high school.’

  ‘Two words,’ Maggie replied. ‘Jake Stock.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Leah agreed.

  ‘And you,’ Esther said, pointing at her, ‘dyed your hair blonde for Joe Parker. Which –’

  ‘No real redhead should ever do,’ Leah finished. ‘I’m still ashamed.’

  Through all of this, I was still doing the elevator with Thisbe in my arms. She’d gone back into her trance, quiet, and for a moment we all just watched her moving up and down. Finally Maggie said, ‘Isn’t it weird to think we were all that little, once?’

  ‘Totally.’ Leah reached out, taking Thisbe’s hand and squeezing it. ‘She’s like a clean slate. No mistakes yet.’

  ‘Lucky girl,’ Esther said. Then, leaning closer, she added, ‘A word of advice: don’t do the goth thing. Nobody ever lets you forget it.’

  ‘And don’t change for a guy, ever,’ Leah added. ‘If they’re worthy, they’ll like you just the way you are.’

  ‘Always wear your helmet on the dirt jumps,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Don’t eat beef jerky before you get on a roller coaster,’ Leah said.

  ‘A nose piercing,’ Esther chimed in, ‘does not look good on everyone. Trust me.’

  Thisbe took all this in with her same, solemn expression. I shifted her in my arms, leaning down to breathe in her smell, a mix of milk and baby shampoo. ‘Come on, Auden,’ Leah said. ‘You must have some wisdom to share.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Don’t flirt with a girl’s boyfriend in her own kitchen,’ I said. ‘Or answer the question “What kind of a name is that?”’

  ‘And you know someone will ask her that,’ Leah said. ‘With a name like Thisbe, it’s guaranteed.’

  ‘What about this,’ Maggie said. ‘Stay clear of cute boys on bikes. They’ll only break your heart.’ I glanced over at her, and she smiled. ‘Of course, that’s easier said than done. Right?’

  I just looked at her, wondering what she meant. I hadn’t told anyone about me and Eli, mostly because I knew they would just assume we were hooking up. What else would you be doing all night, every night, with someone else? The very fact that there were so many answers to that question made me want to leave this one, that Maggie was asking and yet not asking, unanswered.

  ‘God, Maggie,’ Lea
h said, ‘I thought you’d let that Jake thing go, already.’

  ‘I have,’ Maggie told her.

  ‘Then why are you bugging Auden about it now?’ Leah shook her head.

  ‘That’s not what I was –’

  This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm.

  ‘Pull open,’ Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, ‘He never remembers. It’s so weird.’

  ‘Can’t say I don’t make an entrance,’ Adam said, hardly bothered by what some would consider a public humiliation of sorts as he walked toward us, carrying a plastic grocery bag in one hand. ‘So, ladies. An announcement.’

  Leah shot a wary look at the bag. ‘Are you selling candy bars to raise money for math club again?’

  Adam just looked at her. ‘That was eighth grade,’ he said. ‘And school’s over, remember?’

  ‘Ignore her,’ Maggie told him as Leah shrugged, going back behind the counter. ‘What’s the announcement?’

  He grinned, reaching into the bag. ‘Hot-dog party,’ he said, pulling out a value pack of wieners. ‘The first of the summer. After work, at me and Wallace’s. Bring your own condiments.’

  ‘Count me out,’ Esther said, hopping up on the counter. ‘I’m a vegetarian.’

  Adam reached back into the bag, pulling out another pack of dogs. ‘Bam!’ he said, shaking it at her. ‘Tofu Pups! Just for you!’

  ‘Is the bathroom going to be clean?’ Leah asked.

  ‘Isn’t it always?’

  ‘No,’ Leah, Maggie, and Esther said in unison.

  ‘Well, it will be tonight. I’ll bust out my Clorox Clean-Up and everything.’