Rodney shuffled through the crowded hallway, finally able to breathe easy knowing the first semester was over. The long Family Day weekend was about to begin. He spotted Madison, stuffing a textbook in her bag, and Matt, looking tired, towering beside her.
"Hey, you guys have plans for the weekend?" Rodney asked, but he already knew the answer.
Madison's eyes softened as she glanced at Matt before turning back to Rodney. "I've got a family thing," she said, struggling to zip up her bag. "But I could definitely bail if you need me."
"Same here," Matt chimed in, clapping a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Just say the word."
Rodney forced a smile, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm actually pretty busy too, I was checking in." He lied, the truth was his Marcy was at university and his mom was flying out to a conference leaving him alone all weekend.
"Well be sure to text me, we can share notes for the English final," Madison swung her backpack over his shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug that smelled faintly of strawberries.
"Thanks," Rodney mumbled, wondering what he was supposed to do now.
As they parted ways, Rodney caught sight of Derek tying his shoe by the stairs. Rodney hoped that Derek might be around this weekend, after all, he had told his mom his friend would be around for him, and it was the only reason she had agreed to go to the conference.
"Hey, Derek," Rodney called out.
"Rodney!" Derek shot him a smile. "What's up?"
"Got any big plans for Family Day?" Rodney fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, bracing himself.
"Buffalo. Dad and I are hitting the road to work on the '69 Camaro," Derek replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, the annual tradition."
"Right, the old car," Rodney said, cursing the fact he hadn't actually checked with any of his friends beforehand.
"Yes Rodney, the old car," Derek grinned with amusement until he caught the look of worry in Rodney's eye. "Hey, if you're not doing anything this weekend, do want to come? Harry can't come because he's saving for the wedding so there is a spare bed. I know my uncle wouldn't mind."
The suggestion took Rodney by surprise. "I would love to, I just know if after everything my mom would be ok with me leaving the country," he thought, knowing his depression made his mom more worried than normal.
"Can't hurt to ask, right?" Derek nudged him gently. "We don't leave until the morning."
"Sure, I'll see what she says," Rodney replied, already trying to form answers to his mom's arguments in his head.
After parting ways with Derek, Rodney made a detour to Mr. Rogo's office. The guidance counsellor was packing up for the day.
"Mr. Rogo, got a minute?" Rodney peeked into the office.
"Of course, Rodney. Come on in," Mr. Rogo beckoned, setting his sachel down by his chair.
Rodney settled into his usual chair, taking a deep breath. "My mom has this conference thing this weekend, she didn't want to leave me alone but I convinced her to go,"
"Ok," Mr. Rogo nodded, giving him his full attention.
"Thing is, I told her my friends would be around to look out for me, but... they won't, and I don't want her not go because of me," Rodney confessed, twisting his hands in his lap.
"Rodney," Mr. Rogo leaned forward, smiling warmly. "It sounds to me like you feel you might be holding your mother back if she doesn't go. That can be a tough feeling, but she should know the truth so she can make the choice."
"I know, but Derek said I could go with him this weekend," Rodney explained, "But then I would leave the country for the weekend and I don't know how my mom would feel about that,"
"Well, the only thing you can do is ask her. Remember what we've been working on, you can't assume what someone else is feeling. You need to talk to them and find out," Mr. Rogo offered a small smile.
"Thanks, Mr. Rogo. I'll call my mom right now," Rodney said making his way to the door. "Oh, and have a great weekend!"
"You too!" Mr. Rogo called after him as Rodney hurried out of the office to talk to his mom.
---
The next morning, Rodney's duffel bag thudded into the trunk as Derek flashed him an easy grin. "All set?" Derek asked, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
"Yep," Rodney replied, slipping into the back seat and fastening his seatbelt tightly.
"Buffalo, here we come!" Derek's dad announced with a clap of his hands from the driver's seat, the engine humming to life beneath them.
As they merged onto the highway, the familiar landscape of Strathroy blurred past. Derek leaned back, one arm resting out the open window. "So, Uncle Scott," he began, "he's got this sense of humour, right? Like, he says whatever pops into his head no matter what it is... it can be a lot."
"Sounds... entertaining,"
"Entertaining is one word for it," Derek chuckled. "Just roll with it, Rodney. And don't take anything he says too seriously."
"Got it," Rodney nodded, watching the other cars speed past them.
"So Rodney. Do you have much experience with cars," Derek's dad interjected, catching Rodney's gaze in the rearview mirror. "We've been working on this one for the past six years. I think this could be the one where we finally get it purring again."
"Um, well... I've never actually worked on a car before," Rodney started.
"But," Derek interjected. "He's a fast learner, right?"
"Yeah, I am," Rodney nodded.
The conversation dwindled as the kilometres stretched on, and when the border came into view, Rodney watched the rushing water from the falls race under the bridge. He wondered what it would be like to sail down those rapids.
"Welcome to New York," Derek's dad proclaimed as they crossed the bridge, a hint of pride in his voice.
The moon was out by the time they pulled up to a modest two-story house, its porch light cutting through the darkness. Uncle Scott was already there, waiting for them, a lopsided smile plastered across his face.
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"I see tricked someone into coming with you this year," Scott boomed, enveloping his brother in a bear hug the moment he stepped out of the car. "How 'bout a nightcap to cap off this night,"
"Uh, what's a nightcap?" Rodney asked as he pulled his bag from the trunk.
"Never mind him," Derek's dad cut in swiftly. "No drinking for the boys, they're even more underaged here."
"Ah, you're no fun," Scott nudged his brother playfully, winking at Rodney. "Maybe I'll sneak you lads some beers when he's not looking."
Derek's dad shot Scott a look that could've curdled milk before ushering them inside. The house was warm and lived-in, with wallpaper that looked like it had been there since the seventies. Upstairs, Rodney found his room for the weekend—a small olive-green space with a window overlooking the snow-covered backyard.
The following morning brought the sizzle and aroma of bacon frying as Rodney wandered into the kitchen, still groggy from travel. Derek was already downstairs, helping himself to some hashbrowns.
"Morning, champ!" Scott greeted, slapping a plate piled with eggs and bacon in front of Rodney. "You're gonna need to fuel up, it's going to be all hands on deck. With you as our newest crew member, I want the car done by the end of the day!"
"Uh sure," Rodney said, still far too tired to formulate a response.
"Don't mind him, there is no pressure to get your hands dirty," Derek reminded Rodney, pouring himself a coffee. "You can chill if you'd rather do that, watch a movie or something."
"Actually, I think it could be cool to help out," Rodney admitted, surprising even himself. "I mean, I don't know much about cars, but I'm willing to learn."
"Ha! That's the spirit!" Scott clapped Rodney on the back. "We'll make a gearhead out of you yet!"
Rodney couldn't help but smile, the warmth of the kitchen and the prospect of trying something new was exciting, plus he had always wondered if his dad would have taught him about cars if he was still around.
The Johnsons got to work as Rodney hovered near the edge of the cluttered garage, looking over all the different tools hanging on the wall. Derek's dad and Uncle Scott were waist-deep in the guts of the '69 Camaro, their hands greased up to the elbow as they exchanged technical jargon that might as well have been a foreign language.
"Hey, Rod, toss me the half-inch socket wrench, will ya?" Derek called out without looking up from the engine bay.
Rodney, who had been examining a bolt, looked over at the toolbox. He thanked god that Scott had labelled everything in the box, as he handed Derek the tool he leaned over the car to watch Derek work.
"Watch your head there, kid," Scott warned as he passed Rodney with a car battery. "Wouldn't want our good luck charm getting a concussion."
A few hours passed with Rodney mainly handing out the tools until Scott beckoned him over. "Here, you're gonna help me install this fan. Come on, I don't bite—usually."
With cautious movements, Rodney followed Scott's instructions, securing the fan into place while trying to ignore the beads of sweat forming on his brow. The moment the fan clicked into position, a sense of accomplishment washed over him.
"Look at that! Perfect fit!" Scott exclaimed. "Derek, your friend's a natural!"
"Nice job, Rodney!" Derek grinned. "Since you added to it, you get a turn behind the wheel when we finish."
As evening approached, the group cleaned up and migrated inside. Scott manned the grill, serving up steak and potatoes that Rodney swore could still be mooing in a field somewhere based on how raw they were. Dinner was casual, and Rodney found himself laughing more freely than he had in a long time.
"Cheers to progress," Scott said, raising his beer. He slid cans of rootbeer towards the boys with a wink. "those beers I promised,"
"Thanks, Scott," Rodney said, taking a sip.
"Let's wrap up the night with a classic," Scott suggested, leading them to the living room where '300' was already queued up on the screen.
"I've never seen an R-rated move before," Rodney confessed, sinking into the old sofa.
"You're going to love it," Derek replied, taking his place next to him.
"Consider it a right of passage," Scott chuckled, hitting play. "And don't tell you're mother."
When the movie wrapped up everyone made their way to their rooms. Rodney laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling, he loved this weekend, it was like he was spending a weekend with his dad. His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
'Hey, how's your long weekend going?' Hunter's message read.
'Good. I helped build a car today. Learning a lot,' Rodney typed back quickly, smiling at the memory.
'Oh very cool. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to crash at my place sometime over March Break?'
Rodney's heart skipped a beat. 'That could be fun, do you have a spare room for me?'
'Plenty of space here,' Hunter replied, alongside a picture that made Rodney's breath hitch. Shirtless and smirking, Hunter looked like he belonged on a magazine cover rather than in Rodney's text messages as he laid on his bed.
'Wow, sounds really good to me,' Rodney managed to respond, he could feel his heart rate rising. He felt this strange kind of excitement he hadn't felt before wash over him.
'Great, we can talk details later. Sweet dreams, Rodney,' came the final message with a devil emoji.
'You too,' Rodney responded, before scrolling back to the photo, he felt tired and excited all at once. Falling asleep that night felt like an impossible task, he tossed and turned for hours before finally passing out.
---
Back in Strathroy, Madison clocked into her usual Monday shift when she was told she would be training. To her dismay, Ally was sitting in the break room waiting for her as she turned the corner.
"Ally, you need to enter the exact change here," Madison said, pointing at the glowing register screen with forced patience. She watched as Ally's perfectly manicured nails fumbled over the buttons, unable to insert a custom order.
"Oops, sorry!" Ally said accidentally adding a second burger to the fake order, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that clashed with her strawberry lip gloss. Madison suppressed a sigh; training Ally was proving to be more challenging than she had anticipated.
"Why don't we try learning how to make some drinks instead?" Madison suggested, leading her away from the growing line at the counter.
"Sure, I'm great with coffee... at least at home," Ally replied with confidence.
"Okay, well we're actually going to be making milkshakes," Madison demonstrated, pouring the ice cream mix and pressing the right button. The machine whirred to life, dispensing a smooth stream into the cup. "Now, you try."
Ally took the cup, her confidence wavering, and somehow managed to miss the stream entirely, splattering cold mix onto the counter. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, grabbing a handful of napkins.
"Here," Madison said, taking control of the situation. "Like this." She wiped the mess clean and showed Ally once more, slower this time.
"Madison, can I ask you something?" Ally's voice was suddenly serious.
"Sure, I guess," Madison replied while restocking the cups.
"Am I totally hopeless? I mean, I can't even make a milkshake right? I feel like I suck." Ally's gaze fell to her hands, which were twisting a cleaning cloth.
"No one does well on their first day, we had one guy who was scared of the grill and refused to use it. Now that guy sucked," Madison admitted, trying to make her feel a little better. "Now let me ask you a question, why did you even take this job? It's not like you need the money."
Ally paused, looking through the clear plastic barrier to the customers beyond. "I just... I feel like things always just happen to me, you know? Like I'm not really doing anything for myself."
"And you thought a minimum wage job at a fast food place would fix that feeling?" Madison did her best not to laugh, realizing Ally was being serious.
"Maybe," Ally whispered back, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks for helping me again."
"Not a problem," Madison said, not sure what to make of the situation.
By dinner rush, Madison noticed a marked improvement in Ally's performance. Together, they took orders, made drinks and got the food out the window—until Luke walked in.
"Hey Luke," Ally cooed, leaning forward on the counter to wave to him.
"Hey Ally, I didn't know you worked here. Can I get a Big Mac, no onions?" he asked, his smile just as dazzling as his eyes.
"Coming right up," Ally smiled not looking as she punched in the order. She handed him his tray with a wink. "Here you go, I didn't take you as a fast food guy Luke."
"I like coming in every once in a while," he replied, looking up to catch Madison's gaze. Madison blushed but Ally didn't seem to notice the exchange. With that, he took his tray and went to sit down.
"I think Luke might be into me," Ally said returning to work with Madison. "What do you think?"
"I think we should just be focusing on work right now," Madison said, knowing the reality of the situation.
"No I'm serious, I mean I know he eats almost anything but he doesn't like how limiting fast food places are. And I posted this morning I was starting today and boom he shows up," Ally reasoned, nodding towards Luke who had just taken a big bite of his burger, only to recoil immediately.
"Whoa, I said no onions" Luke complained, peeling back the bun to reveal a mound of onions.
"What did you enter for his order?" Madison raised an eyebrow at Ally.
"Extra onions," Ally read over the receipt, "Guess I got a bit... distracted,"
"Come on, let's fix this," Madison said, ushering Ally back to the cash to enter the right order. She couldn't help but shake her head; Ally was still Ally.