Mended

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A black Jetta with heavily tinted windows swerves around the corner and comes to a stop in front of me, blocking my path as I walk through her school parking lot. The window rolls down and the thumping of the stereo’s bass assaults me. I grin, recognizing the song immediately.

Logan Taylor pokes his head out to meet my stare. “Hey, dude, where you been?”

“Hey, man. Good to see you. I’ve been here and there. You?”

He hangs his arm out the open window. “Same. It’s been weird not jamming with you every day.”

“I know. Talk to your aunt.”

“Do I look suicidal?” he says, then blows the hair out of his eyes.

I just shake my head because there’s nothing else I can say. Not wanting to discuss Mrs. Taylor, I check out the curves he’s sitting in. “New car?” I ask as my eyes sweep the sleek, shiny body in front of me.

He shakes his head. “I wish. It’s my dad’s, and anyway you know I’d never pick a yuppie-mobile if I had my choice. I’d much rather have a car like yours any day, but no chance of that.”

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