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KAYLA
I had a perma-smile on my face as I drove, grinning stupidly to the empty cornfields that whizzed past my windows. I wasn’t smiling because I was leaving Michigan. I was still riding the high from being with Jay.
We’d gotten to actually talk to each other for more than ten minutes. He didn’t show it, but I sensed the pressure on him. The game this weekend had huge implications for his career and I was glad I’d agreed to drive up. We had both needed to blow off some steam.
My body was sore in good places. My head buzzed from the orgasm he’d pulled out of me during our morning quickie. It’d been legit quick, too. He kissed me goodbye afterward and had to rush to get downstairs in time for breakfast with the team.
During the drive, I tried to run through the talking points in my presentation for my argumentation class, although Jay kept stealing my thoughts. I wasn’t really worried about the presentation anyway. I was confident I’d nail it. Most of my classes were enjoyable this semester, but it had a heavy emphasis on writing, so I was looking forward to presenting.
Check battery.
The orange light glowed abruptly on my dash, and the two words sent my heart plummeting to my toes. I hadn’t left my battery back on the U-M campus, I thought sarcastically. It was definitely still attached. I turned down the radio and stared at the light, begging it to go away. Maybe it was just a blip.
The warning light didn’t go off. What was I supposed to do? I was the stereotypical girl, who knew nothing about cars except where the gas and windshield washer fluid went. How serious was this? Was the light like a maintenance reminder? Or was my battery getting ready to explode?
It was six miles to the next exit off the freeway. I could find a gas station and ask someone, or else consult Google. I made it four miles before the lights on the dash went dim and the radio stopped working.
“Shit. Shit!” The speedometer needle fell. I stabbed my finger on the hazard button and eased my Rio onto the shoulder, where it shuddered over the rumble strip, one set of tires and then the other. The car continued to decelerate as I was completely on the gritty shoulder, and then . . . that was it.
My car was dead.
Almost as dead as the road I was on. I’d passed a few semi-trucks, but not many cars. My hazards didn’t even work now. I snatched up my phone and looked at the clock on the lock screen. Oh, no. I was so fucked.
I popped the hood, got out of the car, and lifted the metal with a heavy creak, hoping somehow, someway, it’d be obvious to me what was wrong. Like there’d be a cable that had come unplugged from the battery and a diagram explaining where it was supposed to go.
No such luck. Everything looked like it usually did. Not that I knew what usual was.
I scurried back into the car, getting out of the wind. It was sunny and cool, but not cold, thank God. I couldn’t call Jay. His day was too important. I ran a list of people in my brain. Chuck didn’t have a car. I wished Marcy and Dave didn’t live in Indianapolis. Cooper would be in class at high school. None of the cheerleaders knew about Jay, except Lisa, who also didn’t have a car. I had no options.
My father answered on the second ring when I called. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. My car broke down. Can you, uh, come help me?”
“Yeah, of course. Where are you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight. “Toledo.”
“What?” It was confusion and not accusatory. “What are you doing in—”
I stopped breathing at the exact moment he figured it out. The other end of the line was deathly quiet; maybe he wasn’t breathing either. I’d basically admitted I’d slept over at my boyfriend’s last night—the boyfriend whose dorm was in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
“Are you there?” I eked out.
“Yeah.” His voice sagged, and the pause was so long I began to wonder if he was going to tell me I was on my own, but then he spoke. “I’ll have to find a sub, and it’s going to take me a while to get to you. You don’t have class today?”
I wanted to curl up into the fetal position on the floorboard. “Uh, not until eleven.”
He made the same noise he did when a ref made a bullshit call. “You’ll never make it.”
“I know. I’ll email the professor as soon as we hang up.”
“Then you call a tow truck. Text me the address of the garage they take you to. See you in a few hours.”
My dad didn’t say a word to me when he got to the garage. He went straight to the counter and spoke to the guy about the status of my car. The slender man, whose uniform was filthy, told us they were slammed with work and hadn’t gotten to it yet. I put my bag on my shoulder and stood, my head hung in shame, as my dad left his number for them to call with the prognosis.
His gaze flicked to the back wall where a sign read ‘A Garage Divided.’ The Ohio State logo was on the left, the Michigan one on the right.
The car ride was worse for me than the night I’d learned Jay played for Michigan. Tension hung over us like delicate glass, splintering with a hairline crack with each minute of silence.
“Did you get ahold of your professor?” he asked, his eyes on the road.
“Yeah.”
My professor agreed to postpone my presentation until the next class, but the curt email made it seem like I’d be starting in a hole. In his eyes, the timing was suspect. Thanksgiving was next week, so I wouldn’t present until after the holiday break.
We lapsed into silence again, until it was unbearable.
“Did you tell Mom yet?” I asked with dread.
“That you drove to Michigan without telling us and missed class today because you spent the night with your boyfriend? No.”
I cringed, but also felt relief.
Until my dad added, “Since I’m here, I’ll stop by the coaches’ office and wish them luck. I’ll pick you up after your practice is over and you’ll tell her yourself.”
Oh, God. I looked longingly at the door handle to the car, and had a fantasy of jumping out and rolling away to freedom. “She’s going to disown me.”
“Stop that.”
“I was surprised you came. I thought you were going to tell me to figure it out.”
He glanced at me, and was that hurt in his eyes? “Kayla, you’re my daughter. I’m always going to be there for you.” He shifted in the driver’s seat, as if it was making him uncomfortable and not the feelings he was unfamiliar with expressing. “Your mother and I love you, no matter what. You know that. Right?”
“Even if I date a guy who plays for Michigan?”
The muscle along his jaw flexed and then softened. “I can’t promise your mom won’t try to talk you out of that, but, yeah. No matter what.” He seemed to relax slightly. “And, Jesus. Did you see that sign in the garage? I couldn’t leave you there. Those Toledo people are crazy.”
My squad was still stretching when I flew into the fieldhouse. I tossed down my bags beside everyone else’s stuff, sprinted to the group, and immediately began doing sit-ups before anyone could ask.
Lisa gaped at me. “You’re late again! Nice example you’re setting.”
“My car decided to tell me,” I said between reps, “it needs a new alternator . . . by dying on the side of the highway.” I hated it, but thankfully I was only a few minutes late.
Of course, she wouldn’t let it go. “Seriously, we’re all fed up with your attitude.” She came over and loomed above me as I continued my punishment for being late. Her expression was righteous. “You should make me co-captain.”
I paused at the top of my sit-up and blinked at her. “What?”
“You still want to be our only captain? Prove it and start acting like it.”
The day had gotten off to a great start, and then immediately crashed and burned. I was tired. Tired of letting everyone down, and tired of Lisa pushing me around. I needed to take some control back. I launched to my feet. “Okay, you want me to be a captain? Gimme twenty pushups, Lisa.”
“What?” she gasped. “Why?”
“For the mutiny you’re trying to stage.”
Her face pinched into an ugly expression. “That’s not fair.”
“She’s right,” Courtney said. “It should be at least fifty.”
Lisa’s cold gaze went from Courtney, her recent whipping post, to me. I could see Lisa considering her options. Some sort of decision was made, and her voice was low and threatening toward me. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Lisa nodded. She almost looked satisfied as she sank down into her first pushup.