“Well Sunny doesn’t live in my house and you do, and I’m telling you that I want you home by ten thirty.” She frowned back at me, her eyes flicking down toward my right hand. “Stop picking at your nails, Taylor. It’s tacky.”
I tucked my hands behind my back and ignored the familiar jab. “But it’s not fair! Sunny’s driving me. If you make me come home early, then you make her come home early, and this is like her favorite band of all time,” I lied easily. “Please, Mom. It’s just a concert, and I don’t want to make Sunny miss the end of the show. We’re only going to listen to the band and then come straight home. I promise. I’ll come home as soon as it’s over, scout’s honor. And I’ll spend the whole day tomorrow studying.” When I saw my mom waning, I moved in for the kill, raising my hand in mock-salute while I gave her a “look how cute and angelic I am” smile.
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight. “I want your word that you will leave the concert venue by eleven thirty or as soon as the band is finished, whichever comes first. And I want you to call me as soon as you’re in the car and on your way home, do you understand?”
“Yes, I promise. I’ll call.”
“And none of this ‘my cell phone died’ BS,” she added, referencing my standard excuse for missing curfew or not calling when she asked me to.
“I promise, scout's honor. We’ll just watch the band. No funny business. No loitering. Say no to drugs, crack is whack, no sex before marriage, etcetera.”
“Not funny, Taylor,” she said with a contradicting chortle. I gave her one more angelic smile for emphasis—it never hurt to lay it on thick when negotiating with my mother. “And I mean it about studying. I want books open first thing in the morning, no excuses.” I nodded, resisting the urge to shout “Yes, drill sergeant!” back at her.
*
Sunny’s VW Beetle pulled up in front of my house a few hours later. It was appropriately named “The Bee” given the bright yellow paint job and black leather car bra that stretched across the front. For added affect her vanity license plates read “Buzzzd.” Sunny told her father the plates were all part of the bumblebee look, but really she wanted to commemorate her favorite driving state of mind directly on her car. She used the guise of an innocent insect to get her way and give her father a silent eff-you for the lack of attention he paid her.
“How do I look?” I asked, sliding into The Bee and smoothing down my shirt so she could get a better look. She angled one of the vanity lights at my face to better inspect my makeup job, then popped open the glove box and rummaged around until she found a black eye pencil.
“Hold still and look up,” she ordered before raking the pencil across my upper and lower lids. Then she sat back to admire her handiwork. “There, now you look super hot. Don’t get too comfortable in that tank top, because Justin is going to want to rip it off as soon as he sees you.”
“Shut up.” I turned my face toward the passenger side window to hide my grin so she wouldn’t know how much I needed the compliment. My stomach was fully infested with butterflies at the evening’s prospects.
Sunny rolled down the window and passed me the spiked Gatorade she had been drinking.
“Nothing like a little liquid courage,” she said as she watched me take a swig. I made a face as the liquid burned its way down my throat.
“Yuck, it tastes like lighter fluid. Couldn’t you swipe something better from the liquor cabinet?”
“If you’re going to complain then give it back.” She snatched the bottle from my hand and took another drink, using her knee to navigate the steering wheel so her other hand could hold on to her Camel. “So what’s the plan?”
I turned to look out the window, watching the passing street signs as we turned onto the highway. The concert venue was located in one of the converted old warehouses downtown, about a half-hour drive from my house. I hadn’t bothered to share the exact location with my mother. It was better to be vague about the specifics of my evening activities when dealing with She-Who-Likes-to-Say-No. My mom was under the impression that any place outside of our suburb was filled with crackheads and rapists lurking in the shadows, waiting to snatch unsuspecting high school students and sell our kidneys on the black market. That, and she loved putting the kibosh on pretty much anything that made me happy. No, Taylor, I don’t want you going out on a school night. No, Taylor, no daughter of mine is leaving the house dressed like that. No, Taylor, you’re not an experienced enough driver to drive downtown when it’s dark out. No, Taylor. No, no, no.
“I figure we’ll do a quick perimeter scout for Justin and his friends,” I said in answer to Sunny’s question. “Once we find him, I’ll accidentally bump into him and act super shocked to see him there.” I placed my hands over my mouth and widened my eyes to demonstrate my faux “OMG, what are you doing here?” face.
Sunny laughed and passed me her cigarette, this time free from lip gloss slime. “You should ask him to give you a light. Any time a guy lights your cigarette it’s an easy excuse to touch his hand and give him the sex glare.” She touched my hand and gave me her own version of a smoldering stare, lowering her chin so she could look up at me through her lashes. I doubted I could achieve the same combination of sexy and wicked, but it was a decent trick to keep in my back pocket.
“Yeah, that’s good.” I agreed, flipping down the vanity mirror so I could check my makeup for the fiftieth time.
Sunny passed me the drink again, but I shook my head, too nervous to put anything in my stomach. Instead I leaned my head against the window and watched as the city swam into focus, the approaching lights a welcome distraction from the two competing voices heatedly arguing inside my head.
Justin likes you! He has to, otherwise why does he keep looking at you that way?