The air was chilly but not overly so. The frigid claws of winter didn’t normally let up until well into April, but this year, Spring hadn’t crept into Elsbury as much as knocked its door down with a wrecking ball. If today held like the week previous, he’d discard his light flannel by third period.

Unfortunately, his beat-up Tercel was still in the driveway. Despite leaving it unlocked, no one had deigned to steal it. Ash said its “urban camouflage” kept it safe; the Frankencar’s body was cobbled together by no fewer than four other Tercels. Of course, none of them were the same forest green as the original, so the old Toyota looked like it had been dressed by a manic toddler.

Sam headed for the passenger door while Ash slipped into the driver’s seat. Despite Mr. Williams’ hesitation about his daughter’s ability to drive, she usually drove them to school. Of course, that didn’t mean she was any good at it.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the back seat.

“Oh right. It’s from Mom. She thought you’d like it.”

Ash surveyed the garment over her shoulder and nodded. She cranked the starter, and the Tercel roared to life on the first try, squealing in protest when she left the ignition turned a little too long. Sam winced but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Before she could throw the car into reverse, Sam slammed the seatbelt in place. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Ash craved a McMuffin every morning like a drowning man who longed for land.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Mrs. Murray came into view, lounging on the wicker bench on her porch, her head tilted back and her chest thrusting out.

Ash made a noise in the back of her throat. “She try getting in your pants again?”

Sam ripped his gaze away and back toward the road ahead. “That’s a big 10-4. I um…I’ll be cleaning their pool this weekend.”

She snorted and aimed the car toward downtown. “You gonna wear those shorts she likes so much?”

“Ugh, please don’t remind me.”

“You know, you don’t have to go over.”

Sam’s head slammed into the headrest as the car accelerated like they were starting the Indy 500 instead of driving through the suburbs. “We could use the money.”

Ash snorted again. “And this way you don’t have to say no.” She laughed when she saw Sam’s expression. “You know you don’t have to wear the shorts, right?”

“Last time I didn’t she ‘accidentally’ spilled a pitcher of sweet tea on me. She gave me a pair of Mike’s shorts to wear.”

“He’s like half your size.”

“I think that was the point,” he deadpanned, trying not to take her cackling laughter personally.

Working for Mrs. Murray was a pain and a little uncomfortable—well, really uncomfortable—but while she made her interest obvious, she was harmless. And what he told Ash was true. He and his mom could really use the money, so he’d endure an afternoon of being leered at, and yes, he would wear the tight swim trunks. He’d at least get a good tip out of it.

It's no different than waitresses dressing up and flirting with customers to get better tips, right?

Sam’s face burned, and he wanted to change the subject away from the neighbor’s odd behavior.

“Are you ready for the Econ test today?”

They were already out of the suburbs. The modern houses and manicured lawns gave way to…houses that looked more lived in. Not rundown, but these weren’t places that hired professional landscapers. Sam and his mom lived on the far side of this neighborhood. If there was an “other side of the tracks” in Elsbury, this was it. Though there weren’t any tracks in Elsbury. The town was so far off the beaten path that the local joke was the only way people found the place was by taking the wrong fork on the way to the larger and much better-known Dunwich. Not that Dunwich was that much larger than Elsbury, but it had the advantage of being just off the highway.

Ash cursed and took the right onto Main Street too tight, even for her. Luckily, the stop sign on the corner was far enough back that the car missed it. The original sign hadn’t been so lucky, having been taken out by an inattentive driver one morning last August, and the city wisely put the replacement in a safer location. As the tires rubbed against the curb, Sam was grateful for the new placement. Duct tape, baling wire, and hopes held his Tercel together. It couldn’t take many more encounters with traffic signs.

The car dipped as it rolled off the curb again. “Shit! I completely forgot about the test. I was out late with Randy.”

“It’s open notes.”

“That would be great if I had notes.” She cast a sly look at him. “I don’t suppose you…”

Sam pulled a thin stack of papers from his backpack and tossed it on her lap. She looked down briefly—garnering a honk of protest from another driver when the front of the Tercel breached the double yellow—and grinned.

“Who wrote these?” It was obvious the pink, loopy handwriting wasn’t Sam’s.

“I gave Janiece five bucks to copy mine.”

“It’s a little weird you get your 11-year-old neighbor to help you cheat.” But she was smiling when she said it.

“First, she’s twelve—”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“That’s not any better.”

“Second, she’s not helping me cheat. She’s helping you cheat.”

“Thank the gods for amoral preteens.”

“Third, you’re welcome.”

“You’re the best. Have I told you that lately?”

“Not recently, and never often enough.”

Ash pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot and gunned it—as much as a ‘93 Tercel could be gunned—to beat another car to the drive thru. The driver honked, and Ash gave him a one-fingered salute in reply. Sam slunk down in his seat to avoid the angry glare reflecting from the side mirror. With a crackle of static, the speaker on the menu came alive. Ash placed the order for both of them, eliciting a groan from Sam.

“Oh, suck it up, buttercup. One McMuffin won’t ruin your shapely figure.”

“You say that every day.”

“And I’m right every day.”

“Only because I work twice as hard to compensate for the calories.”

“Delicious calories,” she whispered, pulling forward to within inches of the car in front of them.

“If you say so.” As much as he complained about Ash’s bad influence on his strict diet, he couldn’t deny his love for the sausage and biscuit breakfast sandwich.

“Consider it repayment for the notes.”

“You don’t have to repay me.”

“Oh, but I insist.”

“I don’t think it counts as repayment if you were going to order it for me anyways.”

“McMuffin isn’t good enough for you? I could get you something else.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, I know!” she said, talking over him and practically bouncing in her seat. “I could put in a good word for you with Veronica. What, are you back to pretending like you haven’t had a hard-on for her since the eighth grade?”

“It has not been since eighth grade.”

Ash barked a laugh and pulled forward to the second window. The small window rattled open, and before the employee could open her mouth to greet them, Ash nearly poked her in the face with an outstretched credit card, her attention and eyes still on Sam.

“You’re a damned liar, Samael Dyer. You’ve had a boner for Veronica Chambers since the eighth-grade pool party when her top came off and you saw her boobs.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, and she cut him off with a raised finger. He decided it wasn’t worth the argument. “Fine. Just lower your voice.” He hunkered down farther in his seat.

“Trust me, I would know. I had to listen to you talk about her boobs all summer long. And I get it, she’s stacked. But I couldn’t even mention going swimming without you scampering off to the bathroom to take care of business.”

“Oh, god, please kill me now.”

“Here’s your card…” The girl at the window held it out, casting a side-eye glance at Sam.

“Thanks so much!” Ash took it and the bag that followed. Passing the bag off to Sam, Ash slid the car away from the window. He riffled through it with practiced efficiency and groaned.

“What’d they mess up this time?” Ash guessed.

“Mine. But it’s fine. I’ll just—” The seatbelt slamming into his chest cut the words off, and he had to scramble to keep the bag of greasy food from rocketing out of his lap.

“What’s the point in ordering”—the transmission groaned in protest as she threw the car into reverse—“if they’re just gonna give you whatever the hell they want.”

“Seriously, Ash, it’s fine. I’ll just eat it.”

The tip of her tongue stuck out as she reversed through the drive-thru. Sam fumbled for the ‘Oh Shit’ handle. Reversing was Ash’s nemesis. It was in her top five most difficult driving maneuvers along with gentle left turns, traffic lights, on-ramps, and stop signs.

“The line has already moved forward,” he protested, his voice rising as the Tercel whipped around the turn. The driver behind them slammed on his brakes when he noticed the Tercel’s patchwork backend careening toward him. His horn blared.

“Blow it out your ass, grandpa!” Thankfully, Ash didn’t plow into the car, instead inching farther and farther back with clear intent. She widened her eyes at the other driver to let him know she meant business. It took thirty seconds of honking and angry cursing before the driver realized it’d just be faster to do what Ash wanted—a lesson six-year-old Sam learned a long time ago.

The employee was leaning through the window in confusion when Ash pulled up for the second time, this time in reverse. Ash waved the McMuffin at her. “This isn’t what he ordered.”

The girl threw a dirty glance at Sam. “Most people just come inside if their order is wrong.”

“That would defeat the purpose of using the drive thru.” Ash spoke like she was explaining something to a particularly dim child.

Sam slouched in his seat again.

The girl grabbed the abomination from Ash and disappeared into the restaurant. Ash unbuckled and leaned out of the window to peer into the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Making sure they don’t spit in your McMuffin.”

Sam shook his head. He should have known better than to let on that his order was wrong.

“Yeah, I’m watching you. Shouldn’t you have a hair net on?”

Ten minutes later, they bumped into a parking spot at the high school.

Sam fought to keep his orange juice from sloshing out of its cup. “Congratulations. I give it a six.”

“Out of ten?”

“Out of a hundred.” Sam laughed when the bright smile on Ash’s face melted.

“Asshole.” She unbuckled and pulled the visor down to glance in the mirror. “We’re still in one piece.”

“Small miracles…” Sam muttered.

The roof rang out as Ash snapped the visor closed. “I heard that.” She twisted and grabbed the shirt his mom sent for her. Throwing it over the steering wheel, she pulled off her own shirt, a pink bra the only thing separating her from a charge of indecent exposure.

This wasn’t the first time Sam had seen Ash in her undies—they’d been best friends since they were five and had been inseparable ever since—but for some reason, Sam’s face burned at the sight, and he turned away.

Damn it, Mr. Williams. Why’d you have to stir things up?

“Jesus, Ash. What if a teacher sees you?”

“They’d be so lucky.”

A group of their classmates chose that moment to walk by. One guy spotted Ash and elbowed another. Their mouths and eyes opened to ridiculous sizes, and one of them gave Sam a double thumbs-up. Sam gave them a pained smile, and the guys moved off before Ash pulled her head through the new shirt.

“Oh. My. Gawd. Ashley Williams, are you so desperate that you’re letting losers get to second base in the parking lot?” Gwen Sanduski peered through the driver’s side window. “No offense,” she sent to Sam, giving him a sweeter-than-sugar smile.

“I wouldn’t dream about edging in on your turf. Is it still five bucks for a BJ or did you have to lower your prices again? I hear Amber Dobson is doing buy-one-get-one free. It’s a tough market out there.”

Behind Gwen, Amber popped her gum. “Fuck you, Ash.”

“Love you, too, bitch.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Speaking of blowjobs, I heard you finally took Randy into the old locker room.”

“Even if I wanted to, I hear you have the place booked through sixth period these days.”

“That’s not what Randy’s saying.” Gwen sneered, then she jumped out of the way when Ash whipped the car door open. Gwen stumbled into Amber, and the two clutched at each other to regain their balance.

“Trust me,” Ash said, treating herself to one last peek in the rearview mirror, “if I took Randy into the old locker room, you’d know it. He wouldn’t be able to walk once I was done with him. I don’t half-ass anything. I heard Justin Gutierrez said you going down on him was like slathering peanut butter on his balls and letting the dogs go to town. Not sure if I should be more concerned about Justin’s proclivities or your technique.”

Gwen’s eyes tighten into a scowl. “Fuck you, Ash.” She jerked her head to Amber, and they stalked off.

Sam watched them disappear around a corner. “Jesus, Ash.”

“What?”

“I thought you were friends with Gwen and Amber.”

“We are. We’re going to the mall together in Arkham next week.” She climbed out of the car and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Sam flopped his head onto the headrest and blew out his cheeks. “I don’t understand girls.”

“You’re not supposed to. Oh, are you still coming with me after school?”

“You mean, am I letting you drive my car around town going thrift shopping?”

“That’s literally what I just said.” Ash beamed at him. “Meet me at the usual.”