Page 64 of Furious

“What are you talking about?” I pick up the discarded can, because El Blum, good girl and cofounder of the Dell’s Hollow Volunteer Club, is littering. Picking up the can feels like the least I can do to restore the balance of the universe. “I’m nothing like her!”

Confusion flits across El’s face for a moment at my words and then she scowls. “You’re gonna leave like her. Like Letty.” She gestures wildly.

I drop the smashed empty beer can in a trash bin next to the front door. My mind and my heart are racing, but even still it takes me a minute to place who El’s talking about and what she means. In the reflection from the front door glass, I catch sight of the Fast & Furious T-shirt I’m wearing and something in my brain clicks. “Letty? Ortiz? As in Fast & Furious Letty? What does she have to do with any of this?”

El makes a frustrated noise. “She’s the template, Jo! For you, for my sister, for any girl who’s going too fast and who doesn’t give a shit about who she hurts along the way.”

I draw in a ragged breath, brushing drops of spilled beer off my fingers and onto the side of the apartment building. I turn around. “Firstly, that’s blaspheming Letty. And—most important—I’m not a fucking fictional character or your sister! You can’t compare me to them!”

My words might as well be flung into the trash because El’s still stuck on Letty Ortiz. She stands up, turns around, and crosses her arms. “Remember the movies when Letty was hunting Dom?”

“She had amnesia! She wasn’t herself! Why are we still arguing about Letty Ortiz?”

“Because it’s important!”

We’re yelling at each other now, and this is so clearly not really about me and El but rather about her and Max, but fuck it. If El doesn’t want me in her life or if she somehow thinks I’m like Max because we both race, and because we have better places to be than with her, that’s fine. I don’t need her, either.

I swipe at my own face—when had I started crying?—and say, “We have to go. We can’t just hang around here, hoping Max is going to change her mind. That’s pathetic even for you.”

Ouch. Those words were not what I’d meant to say at all, and they hit El like a blow. She rocks back on her feet for a minute.

Then, she steps closer to me, her eyes dangerous. “If you think I’m so pathetic, then why did you come here with me?”

I step backward, and now my back’s against the door of the apartment building. “Because I thought you were different from this irrational person who’s yelling at me outside her sister’s shitty apartment! I thought you were fun and kind and that you liked me. I see now that you’ve just been using me to find your sister, and that you were completely delusional about that, too. She doesn’t want you here, clearly, so let it the fuck go already.”

El steps away from me. “Fine.” She pulls out her phone. “You’re right. Thanks so much for all your help.” She starts stabbing at her phone angrily.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Calling my parents back. I gave Max the key, remember? I don’t have a way home. And it turns out there’s not an Amtrak or bus back to Dell’s Hollow; I checked while I was sitting in the diner. The one time I don’t do my research …”

Even as she dials, I know I could still fix this. I could apologize for the cruel words I’ve said or try to bridge the space between us, but this isn’t my fault. I shouldn’t have to apologize when El’s the one being an asshole.

“What does that mean for me if you call your parents? How am I supposed to get home?”

El shrugs and starts to walk away. “I guess we’re stuck together for a couple more hours.”

Well, fuck. What else am I supposed to do? Call my dad, who’s barely capable of driving around Dell’s Hollow, much less all the way to Richmond? I’m too young to rent a car, and I have money in my checking account, yes, but I can’t take an Uber all the way back to Dell’s Hollow. That would be a fortune.

Fuck’s sake.

Hating myself just a little bit, I run after El.

El’s parents arrive a few hours later. It turns out that Zaynah texted them after the fight she had with El and they were already on the road to Richmond by the time El called them. El and I spent the entire three hours we were waiting for them to arrive not saying anything to each other. We don’t talk on the way home, either, during what has to be the world’s most awkward drive. And El’s parents don’t talk to her because I’m in the car, which leaves us all drowning in silence. Which is fine. It’s all fine. I don’t need El. Maybe I don’t even really like her—I’m not sure. All I know is that we’re broken and I have no idea how to fix us and it’s time to focus on myself, my goals, and get away from everything to do with El Blum as fast as possible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

El

Dawn on Monday breaks obnoxiously bright, another hot, sunny summer day in Dell’s Hollow. I wake early enough to watch the light seep through my bedroom curtains, even though I have no place to be. Yesterday’s excruciating ride home was probably the last time I’ll leave the house as a minor.

When my parents got to Richmond, they met Jo and me on the curb outside Mama Maple’s Bacon and Eggs, the only friendly place I could think of to wait in Richmond (in separate booths, of course). My parents barely said a word to us, just “Are you girls okay?” and “Do we need to pay your bill at this restaurant?” We then got in the back seat of the Oatmobile and stared out our separate windows for the three-hour drive. With no radio, I might add—my parents’ first of many punishments to come. The scenery whipping by the Oatmobile’s windows was nearly identical to our ride up, but it felt impossibly different. Everything was different. I was no longer riding toward the person who mattered most to me, but leaving her behind. Just like she’d left me.

Jo didn’t say a word to me when Dad pulled into the farmhouse driveway. She only thanked my parents and muttered a quick “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Blum” as she climbed out of the minivan. Then I watched her walk away, too, toward the distant figure of her own father waiting on the porch. She never looked back at me. And the worst part about our long ride home?

I’d had enough time to figure out that that was my fault, too.

How did I set off for Richmond convinced that I’d lost everything, only to come home with less? I roll over without bothering to check my phone, tucking in under the blankets; since I don’t have a job, a volunteer club, a best friend, a girlfriend, or the R1 to take care of, maybe I can just stay here for the last month of summer vacation, cozy in my self-loathing.