I didn’t hug Dad, but I said one word. Without any prompting or threat of physical pain from my brother.
“Bye.”
Jolene
I texted Adam a picture of my license along with a message for him to suck it, and he texted back a picture of his middle finger. I wonder what he would have sent if I’d taken a picture of my Lexus? Not that I had the option anymore. I got to drive it only that one day. It was gone by the time I woke up Wednesday morning and learned that Mom’s lawyers had made Dad take it back.
If Dad wondered why I’d never sent a thank-you note, it never got back to me.
Adam texted back with a picture of a bike and the word Jealous?
A smile I didn’t know I had in me crept onto my face. I hadn’t heard from Adam in a few days—long, empty days. I’d tried texting him after he was due back from his grandparents, but his mom had responded and explained that Adam was grounded until Thursday. Perfect Adam got in trouble? I was so curious about what he’d done that I almost asked her. But I liked thinking that his mom liked me, or liked a photographic version of me. I didn’t want to wreck that by coming off as nosy and rude, even though I was nosy and rude.
But he was finally texting me back.
Adam:
I can’t believe I had to wait this long to see your license.
Jolene:
And I’m dying to know what you did to get grounded for three days. Chew with your mouth open? Forget to say thank you? Get less than 105 percent on an extra credit assignment?
Jolene:
Hey, was it a self-inflicted
grounding? I’m betting it was.
Adam:
I got into a fistfight with my brother while he was driving to my grandparents’ house and we crashed my mom’s car.
Jolene:
You tore the tag off a mattress, didn’t you?
Adam:
You think I’m kidding?
Jolene:
I know you’re kidding.
Adam sent a picture of a car with the back smashed in.
Jolene:
!!!!!!!!!!
Adam:
......
Jolene:
Who are you? You’re not hurt, right? Your mom and brother?
Adam:
We’re fine.
Adam:
We don’t have the money to fix her car right away so we’re all sharing Jeremy’s, but I’ll tell you everything when I see you tomorrow. It’s too much for text.
I ran into my bathroom and blasted my hairdryer in my face while letting my jaw go slack. You couldn’t see the hairdryer in the picture I snapped with my phone, it looked like I was so stunned my hair was literally blown back. I sent the picture.
Adam:
I missed you this week.
I missed him, too. Too much.
Jolene:
Get this: I got a car for my birthday.
Adam:
No way.
Jolene:
Yep, and my mom let me keep it for about twelve hours before her lawyers motioned to have a forensic accountant go through my dad’s finances to find the money he spent on it.
Adam:
I want you to be kidding.
Jolene:
But you know I’m not.
Adam:
At least tell me you got to drive it first.
My thumbs hovered over my phone. I wanted to break out in hives thinking about the hours I’d wasted sitting outside my dad’s apartment. I knew what Adam would say—or text—if I told him the truth. It’d be my name followed by a single period. Pity was the last thing I wanted, especially since the night had turned out okay hanging out with Guy, or more specific, hanging out with Guy’s movie collection. But it wasn’t like I could tell Adam one thing without the other.
Jolene:
I starred in a shot-for-shot remake
of Easy Rider, but in a Lexus instead of on a motorcycle.
Adam:
Is that a road trip movie?
Jolene:
Wow.
Adam:
So I should probably stop admitting that I haven’t heard of half the
movies you talk about?
Jolene:
Probably. Want to hang out?
Adam:
Don’t we always?
Jolene:
I mean today.
It was already Thursday, so there was only one more day until we’d be at the apartment together, but those stretches between seeing him were feeling longer and longer to me lately.
Adam:
Did the picture of my bike not come through? I could leave now and still not get there before the weekend.
Jolene:
I could take my mom’s car.
Adam:
Do you mean take or borrow?
Jolene:
Well, I plan to hot-wire it, so...
Adam:
I want to believe you know how to do that so you can teach me.
Jolene:
Haven’t you gotten in enough
trouble lately?
Adam:
But now I’ve developed a taste for it. Seriously, do you know how?
Jolene:
I lived a life of crime before I met you. I’ll never fully leave that part of me behind.
Adam:
So your dad’s a mob boss?
Jolene:
Yes, and I’m a mob princess. They
call me Jolene the spleen remover.
Adam:
That’s terrible.
Jolene:
The only other thing I could think of is Mean Jolene.
Adam:
Those are both terrible.
Jolene:
Now you see why I had to leave the life. So, am I hot-wiring my mom’s car?
Adam:
I can’t tonight. I’ve got this thing with my mom.
Jolene:
What kind of thing?
Adam:
Just a thing.
Jolene:
An embarrassing thing?
Jolene:
Are you still there?
Adam:
It’s a puzzle.