Getting Paid: Receiving a higher score for a dive than it may be worth.
I CAN’T get out of school fast enough. If running were an option, I’d hightail my ass to my truck and squeal out of the parking lot straight to Uncle Phil’s. But seeing as there’s an inch of snow on the ground and more than a few people still cleaning off their cars, I slow my roll. Pretending to be the Theo everyone expects. A springboard diver under full control.
And then I see Iris, leaning against my truck in a puffy white parka. She stops biting the lid on her disposable cup to smile at me when she sees us coming and some of the weight on my back lifts for real. Until I remember the way I ditched her at the county clerk’s office.
Chip elbows me. “Looks like your plans for a lobotomy just changed. Good luck with that next round of lead-ups.” He gives Iris an upward nod with a grin and treks to his car.
“What are you doing out here in the snow? You’re not stalking me or anything since the field trip, are you?”
I give her a crooked grin, trying to save face. I haven’t exactly let Iris in on anything that’s been going on with me, even after she saved my life on Monarch Night, because guy-that’s-losing-his-gourd isn’t really the message I want to send this early in the game.
“I’ve never stalked anyone before. I might be. Do you have somewhere you need to be right now? You two were coming in fast and furious for a minute there.”
“I was heading over to my Uncle Phil’s to interview him for the project, but it can wait.”
It’s not a total lie. If it weren’t for the family history project, I probably wouldn’t be remembering so much in the first place.
“I was hoping you and I could go somewhere private and talk.”
My guilt returns. “About the project or why I hauled ass out of the county clerk’s office?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“Yeah. I guess they are. You never miss a trick, do you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
I give the edge of her fur-trimmed hood a tug. “I take it you knew about today’s weather too. Was that in the cards?”
“They’ve been predicting this squall for a week,” Iris says. “Don’t tell me you don’t read the Monarch Monthly?”
“Uh.” The back of my neck starts to get warm. “I should. I mean, plan to. It’s sort of a juggling act just to keep up with homework when we’re in season.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not alone. We’re not alone, actually.” She throws an informative glance over her shoulder and I scan the parking lot.
More than a few gaping looks are being cast our way. This was bound to happen. When Iris and I showed up together at the bonfire on Monarch Night the expressions on everyone’s faces—priceless—like I plucked her straight out of the flooded town beneath the water. Nothing like shocking the shit out of your friends while they’re buzzing. Once the initial shock wore off the rest of the night went great. Iris fit right in. Making Chip right once again. The people gawking today, though, aren’t my friends. I barely know most of them, which makes their fascination more ridiculous.
“They’ve been staring at me the whole time, like I broke a force field to get near your truck.” She blocks her mouth with the side of her cup and leans closer. “I mean, what are those two even doing together? He’s like, a jock. And she’s like a library nerd or a hippie or something.” She grins and eases back against my truck with a shrug. “I like to imagine them struggling to find the right box for me.”
Classic.
Plus bonus points for inflection.
“Weren’t you the one who said people were afraid of disrupting the status quo?”
“Yes. Because it’s true.”
“So what bothers you most, their judgment or the idea of exclusion?”
“Neither. I’m not the captain of anything.”
“Well, I am. And I think you should consider writing an anonymous article about breaking the status quo. From the front lines to the front page.”
Her eyes widen agreeably. “An undercover infiltration piece. Nice I like it.”
I open the passenger door and hand Iris my keys. “You mind starting the engine while I clean off Bumblebee?”
“Who?”
“My truck,” I explain, shaking my head. “Chip named him.”
“After the Transformer?” She laughs. “I can see that.”
“You and the rest of the team. Nicknames and tags are a thing we do. Sully, The Flying Ace, Dumbass for Trey Dumas. Chip just applied the name game to my truck.”
“What do they call you?”
“Big Mack.” Her eyebrows shoot up and I clear my throat. “Because I’m tall for a diver.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirks so hard this time my head gets hot (pun acknowledged, not intended).
“What do you think my nickname would be if I were on the team?” She asks.
“You’re on my team now so I guess I better get to work on that.” I try to think up a few nicknames on the fly. Something that means lifesaver: buoy, lifeguard. Those sound dumb and don’t fit the awesome that is Iris Fiorello.
I dig around in my trunk for my knitted beanie and snow scraper, then clean off my truck as fast as possible, smiling at Iris through breaks in the slushy snow that whoomph onto the ground in big swaths as I sweep them away. I jump into the cabin and crank the heat, holding my hands in front of the blast of warm air.
“That dark hat brings out the moles on your cheek.” She uses her peace fingers to touch one mole at the outer corner of my eye, and the other at the top of my cheekbone.
I’m not sure my moles are quite the panty-dropper Sully has with his lip, but I’ll take it. I’ll take all the normal I can get for the moment.
I’m thinking about kissing her when Chip rolls up and sounds his mutant duck horn. I lower my window and lean out.
“I see you two are keeping the latest E.H.H.S. gossip afloat?”
Iris leans across my lap to get closer to my window. “That’s right, loud muffler. It’s a good thing you stopped or my nerdy, newspaper-loving rep may have been destroyed.”
I run through a bunch of dive combinations in my head, struggling to ignore how much of Iris is touching me. There’s definitely boob on my arm. Breathe in, breathe out.
Chip cuts me a look. “Good thing for you, maybe. I can’t say the same for Theo. But I like the way you roll, French Fry.”
“French Fry?” Iris scoffs.
“Who doesn’t love a Big Mack and fries?”
I look at Iris and shrug. “He beat me to it. It’s done.”
“Go easy on him, Iris,” Chip says. “My boy’s had a shit day. The last thing he needs piled on is a case of blue balls.”
Jeezus.
“Thanks for the tip,” Iris says. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Chip gets a shit-eating grin, like he wants to riff off her usage of tip, and I think he would if I wasn’t giving him a death glare.
“All right, you two.” Chip shifts his Dart into drive with a thunk. “I’ve got a tip of my own that needs minding. I’ll catch you later.” He rumbles away through the parking lot.
As usual, I thought-spoke on his perverted behalf too soon.
“Don’t mind him,” I tell Iris. “He doesn’t have a filter.”
“Filters are overrated. Not having one makes Chip easy to read than most.”
I lower the temperature in the truck to compensate for another round of guilty heat rising to my cheeks. I don’t have a filter so much as a shield.
“So where to, French Fry?”
“Can I drive? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“My truck?” I feel my eyes pop. “I’ve never let anyone drive Bumblebee. Not even Chip. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behind the wheel of a car before.”
“That’s because it got totaled.” Her hands shoot up in surrender when my eyes widen more. “I wasn’t the one driving it at the time. I swear.”
She crosses her arms, nearly hugging herself, and I know there’s more to her story. I take a deep breath in through my nose. Trusting the person that saved your life should probably be a given. Which is why I drop my guard and surrender control of the driver’s seat to Iris for a little while.