Page 72 of Furious

“Correct.”

“Why do you have Dom Toretto’s car? Are you planning another heist?”

El nods, very seriously. “That’s exactly it. You’ve figured it out. I’ve managed to steal a shrink ray and I need your help pulling off a heist in this teeny-tiny car.”

“Where you ride, I ride, right?”

El laughs at that, and then places the tiny car on the dashboard. “I found it on Etsy pretty soon after we got back from Richmond. It’s for you and I’ve been meaning to bring it over to the garage or your house since it arrived at my place. But …”

But.

But we weren’t speaking. We weren’t going out. We weren’t even friends anymore.

I reach for the little car, turning it over in my hand. The details are perfect, and the wheels actually move. “Why are you giving it to me?”

El swallows hard. “Well, you see, it’s not just a regular 1969 Dodge Charger on a key chain. It’s an apology 1969 Dodge Charger on a key chain. I couldn’t think of any other way to say I’m sorry for what happened in Richmond, and for being so awful—about Max, and your mom, and Letty Ortiz, and all of it—and I was pretty sure you’d be grounded like me or wouldn’t have a car, so I saw it and it seemed like something you’d like.”

I wrap my hands around the small car as El’s words wash over me. “It is something I like. Thank you.”

El fiddles with the Hornet’s radio dials. “I mean, you don’t really need it now, though, do you? Since you have this car? How do you have this car? And your license. You do have your license, right? Tell me you have that. My parents will officially ground me for the rest of my life if I’m riding in a car with someone without a license. I’ll have to walk to UNC next fall.”

“If you’re riding with someone without a license again, right?” I can’t keep a smile from kicking up one side of my mouth as the memory of us winning the race against Riley and then kissing in the housing development afterward comes to me. Not like I haven’t thought about those moments a million times since El and I broke up, but it feels more real somehow. More possible now that El Blum is in my car.

“Again,” El confirms, returning my smile with a look of her own that shows me how much of that race night she remembers.

I pull my wallet out of my bag and flip it open. My new driver’s license picture, the one where I’m grinning like a kid who’s just gotten the present they’ve been waiting for all year, stares back at us.

“Aww, you look nerdy, happy, and street legal,” El says.

“That last one is the important part.”

“I still can’t believe your dad let you get your license. Did you get into any trouble at all?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Quickly, I fill her in about what happened after Richmond, telling her a bit about the talk with my dad, my own set of consequences, us sending my F1 Academy application in, me getting my license, Grandma Jolene getting back from Italy and gifting me the Hornet, and me generally driving very, very carefully.

“So, it all worked out for you?” El says, carefully.

“Mostly. Or it’s moving in the right direction, I guess. I don’t know if I’ll get into the academy, but at least I have the chance to try.”

“That’s important.”

Silence falls again, and then El says softly, “I am sorry though, JoJo. I mean, I know I gave you an apology 1969 Dodge Charger key chain, but I want to say it. I’m sorry I was such an asshole in Richmond. I’m sorry for breaking us.” She lets out a long, aching sigh, and then starts to run a hand through her hair, but stops when she remembers she has a bike helmet on. Hastily, she unbuckles it, scowling as she does so.

“I’m sorry, too,” I say, laughing as she flings the helmet into the back seat. “I’ve been meaning to text you, but I just didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me again.”

“I didn’t,” El admits. “At least not at first. I was hurting and it was awful and I felt so stupid for not seeing what was happening with Max. Or with thinking everything would be better just because I showed up on her doorstep.”

“Hope isn’t stupid,” I say.

El nods. “No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just that I talked to my mom, and I realize now that I didn’t really understand what was happening. Like Max isn’t who I thought she was, and my parents didn’t throw her out because they hate her, or because she made a few mistakes. It’s a long story, but the point is that it’s complicated. And I didn’t have the whole picture. Maybe I never will, but the point is, it’s not something I can fix or force, and I shouldn’t have tried to.”

“You were dealing with a lot,” I say gently, as I work the Dodge Charger onto my own key chain.

“I was,” El agrees. “But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“You were grieving your sister. Grief makes us do and say things we might not have done ordinarily.”

El rests a hand on my shoulder softly. “But, JoJo, you were grieving your mom. Not your irresponsible sister, who is still very much alive. Your loss is so much bigger than mine.”