Standing in the rain, being hit by 50 mile an hour winds, and wearing nothing but jeans and tee shirt sucks. All that after some annoying little freshman who wears too much make up and to little deodorant stood you up on a date she nagged you into going, sucks even more. And to top that all off with the fricking cherry, I do not have a ride home, which means I get to take a [guestimate] 20 mile walk home at about, 8:00 pm. Lucy Derver is going to wish she had never been born, or at least wish she had the COMMON DECENCY to call me and say she would not be able to make it.
“Stupid Lucy and your orange eye shadow!” I mumble as I step off the sidewalk, beginning my ridiculously long and uncomfortable walk home.
“Yeah, what about her?” A voice coming from nowhere asks.
“What?” I look around, confused, wondering where the source of the voice is.
“Look down.” By my feet, there sits a girl, with wet brown hair and smeared mascara.
“Oh, hello.”
“Hi, what did Lucy do to you?”
“Stood me up, she was my ride home too.”
“What about her orange eye shadow?”
“Its stupid, she’s stupid, and it doesn’t look good on her.”
“I see,” she is silent but stares up at me, then, “Do you need a ride home?”
“If its not to much of a problem.”
“Not at all, I’ve got a full tank, and great gas mileage,” she smiles and suddenly my night doesn’t seem as crappy as it was a three minutes ago. She stands up; her eyes come up to my chin and she’s still standing on the sidewalk, way short. She leads me to an old, but well taken care of Toyota Camry, with black paint and worn upholstery. I slide in and my head bumps the ceiling, I grab the top of my head and she asks me if I’m okay.
“Fine, I do it all the time in my car.”
“Yeah, you’re not exactly petite like me.” She’s right, I’m not. I’m 6’2 easily, but also skinny, I’m a beanpole. Yet I’m not weak, I’m actually pretty strong; I could probably bench three of her.
“True.” She pulls out of the crowded parking lot to the Ponderosa and into the nearly empty street of Hamburger Hill, Clare. We spend the next five minutes in silence, until I realize that I don’t know her name.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, I’m Quinn.” I say, interrupting the silence that lay between us.
“I know,” she smiles, keeping her eyes on the road.
“Oh.”
“I’m Kelly, Lucy’s my step-sister.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“Its okay, I think she’s stupid too so don’t feel bad.”
“Um, really?
“Yeah, that’s why I was here, to make sure you got home.”
“Oh, did she tell you she was blowing me off?”
“No.”
“You just knew?”
“Well, yeah, I’ve been living with her for four years, I can pretty much tell when she’s going to do something stupid, mean and rude. Also, it’s a Friday, and Friday is when she watches her recording of American Idol. God, I hate that show so much.”
“Me too,” I say automatically, “I despise the show with every fiber of my being. It would be alright if the retards wrote their own songs and sang them, you can’t just let someone who can’t write songs with true meaning out in the world of radio, Internet and TV.”
“Exactly!” She exclaims, “You have just voiced every thought I have had on that show since it started!”
“Talk about telepathy.”
“Indeed.”
“Um, you need to take a left up here.”
“I know, I stole the directions off Lucy’s desk.” She says, matter of factly, she puts on her blinker at the last second and makes the turn sharply. I try not to grab onto the “Oh Shit” handle, but instinct overcomes my politeness.
“Sorry, I’m kind of agitated at her,” she laughs.
“Sorry I accidentally put down your driving skills.”
We drive for a couple more minutes in silence, then:
“Have you ever noticed me before?” Kelly asks, and I can feel her sorrow.
“No.” I answer truthfully.
“I have band, art, English and Biology with you.”
“I haven’t, I’m sorry.”
“You notice Lucy.”
“Lucy notices me, plus she’s loud.”
“Yet I have four out of five classes with you, but you never seem to notice anyone, do you?”
“I don’t pay attention to people.”
“Just to whatever goes on in your mind.”
I wait for a second, unsure of what to say, she’s figured me out so easily, how could it be? “Pretty much.”
“That’s sad, to not notice the world around you, to spend all of your time shut up inside your own head.”
“Opinions are like-“
“Butt holes, everyone has one, blah, blah, blah,” she interrupts me.
“Yeah? I was going to say ‘Opinions are like warm refrigerators, utterly useless.”
“That’s weird,” she looks thoughtful, “but true, I guess, because in the end, it doesn’t really matter if someone thinks your new painting sucks, it only matters what you think, and if you’re satisfied with your creation.”
“Spot on.” We drive the rest of the way in silence, pausing at intersections and occasionally glancing each others way, but every time we do, we both look away quickly. I look at her while she is focusing on the road, her profile is quite pretty, her lips are full, parted just slightly and her eyes narrowed against the opposing traffic’s headlights. Her eyelashes are long and her nose is straight, with just the tiniest bump. Her hair is long, brown, and still slightly damp, the dark of the night doesn’t allow me to see much else, but what I do see makes me wonder how I have never noticed her before. She is right, I am shut up inside my own head at most times of the day, but she would surely be someone who could break into my thoughts, who could stop them. Perhaps she just never really crossed paths with me, although she has 4 out of 5 classes with me. I sit in back, always, or wherever there is a window, so I can look out it.
She pulls into my driveway, and puts the car in park, I open up my door and the light comes on. She looks at me and says bye, I thank her for the ride, and with the light on, I can really see her. Her skin is pale and her eyes are chocolate, with flecks of gold in them, there are still flecks of mascara underneath her eyes. I reach me hand towards her face to wipe them off, she doesn’t flinch, just looks down at her hands in her lap. I don’t even hesitate, I just use my thumb, and 1-2-3, 1-2-3, the flecks are gone, her skin is so smooth, I want to touch her again.
Instead I get out of the car, and look back at her as she pulls out of the driveway. She looks towards my house and her eyes catch mine for a second, then she looks away, and pulls out onto the busy street. Driving away from my house, my busy mind, and me.

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