Speed of Life (18 page)

It says: 1934
STUDEBAKER PARTS WANTED
.

Underneath that, there's a phone number and email address.

“Hey,” I say to David, instantly recognizing the guy. “Don't laugh at him.”

“Sorry. It just seems funny. A walking want ad.”

“Do you know who that guy is?”

“Should I?”

“He's only the most awesome metal guy in Portland. Probably on the West Coast.” For all I know, maybe in the whole country. “He can build anything from nothing. Jimmy told me he's making one Studebaker out of two or three bodies he cut into pieces, kinda like his own version of a kit car.”

“Cool.”

“I know, right?” I say. “Legend has it he needed a trunk lid and there're only, like, three in the whole country for a 'thirty-four. So he talked a guy into shipping him his and then he cast a mold from it and made himself one, and then sent the original back. You can't even tell the difference between the two, though. He's a car god.”

We're walking by him at that moment and David makes a show out of bowing down to him. The guy breaks into a big grin, holds his hands together, bows back, and says, “Bless you.” We all laugh and he keeps going. He doesn't know what the joke is, but obviously he doesn't care. I'm too shy to actually talk to him today, but Jimmy said he'd introduce us sometime.

“To him, restoration's a real art. That's why I want to go to McPherson,” I say. “But even if I don't get to study there, I'm gonna be just like him.”

“Except without the beard.”

I laugh. “Hopefully.”

I make it back to daycare in time to pick up Natalie, and when we get home, Amber's in the kitchen doing a puzzle and eating pizza. She ignores me when I say hello, but as I walk by, she holds out a thick envelope.

“What's that?”

“Your friend Ms. Spellerman asked me to give you that,” Amber says. “She couldn't find you. I guess you were skipping?”

I look at the return address. My chest instantly tightens and my breathing gets shallow. It's my financial aid. Natalie's wiggling around in her carrier, whining to get out, so I lay the envelope on the table, almost like it's too hot to touch. In a way, it is, and I'm scared. I put Nat in the playpen, and I can feel Amber's interest so intensely that it's almost like she's staring at me, but when I look over, her eyes are on the puzzle book.

I want to tear open the envelope, but I can't bring myself to do it yet. If it's good news, I might be able to convince Amber to go to Kansas, but if it's just middle of the road—​a lot of loans or not a big enough package—​then I'm sunk.

“Well? Aren't you going to open it?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” I pick up the envelope and slide my finger under the flap, promptly cutting myself. A little line of blood appears, bright red, and I lick it off. My heart's racing like the Mustang's engine. Okay. This is it. I unfold all the papers and have a look.

This can't be right.

Can it?

It has to be some sort of mistake.

But maybe it's not . . .

“So?” Amber asks.

“I'm . . . I'm not sure . . . but I think I got a full-ride scholarship . . .”

The hostility Amber's been carrying around for so long vanishes right in front of my face. For a second she looks proud of me, and hope flares in my heart. “Really?”

“I think so.” I scan the next couple of pages. “And work-study, whatever that is. And it looks like some grants.”

I'm so close to asking Amber to look at the packet, to make sure I'm reading it right, when the familiar wall around her goes back up. “Well, that's great,” she says. “I hope you'll be very happy there. Send me a postcard.”

“Amber, I can't go without you.”

“Well, you're gonna have to. Because I'm not going anywhere.”

“Don't you get it?” I ask. “This is like
real
money
. It's a gift. We don't have to pay it back!”

“So what? We never planned to borrow money in the first place. We planned to get an apartment and save money for a house of our own. Remember?”

“But this will make going to college so easy. It's not only my tuition and books. There's money to live on. We can keep our savings.”

Amber sets down her pen and takes a deep breath, letting it out super slow. “I'm not trying to be a bitch, Crys. But we had a plan, and it's a good one. I get that you could maybe earn more if you go to college, but someday Jimmy's gonna retire, and he's probably gonna leave you the garage. Or at least by then you'll be able to get a loan and buy it. I know you don't think going to Kansas is any big deal, but I don't want to be away from my family.”

“You'd have me and Nat.”

“I know that's enough for you, but it's not enough for me.”

“It's only for four years.”

Amber throws her puzzle book across the room in frustration. “Yeah, well, that's what you told me about high school, and it feels like about four
hundred
years.”

“This would be totally different. Please, Amber? Say you'll think about it?”

My heart's beating faster than normal and my hands are so damp they've left marks on the papers. I can almost see her wavering. But then Amber crosses her arms and my hope disappears.

“I'm sorry, Crystal. It's too much to ask. I don't want to leave Portland. I would be so lonely there. I know I would. And it doesn't matter to you because you'd have your classes to go to and cars to work on, but I can't do it.” She looks at me for the first time in weeks, meeting my eyes. “We'll be fine here. Really. Our plan's a good one. Please stop asking me to go to Kansas.”

The next couple of weeks are weird. In a way, things get better between me and Amber, but only on the surface. I don't mention college, and she starts talking to me a little bit. Nothing important, but she's not stonewalling me anymore.

David has a look at my financial aid stuff, and it's even better news than I thought. Work-study means I can get a job on campus, up to twenty hours a week, and it pays way better than a regular job. Also, the grants give me money toward my living expenses.

“Essentially,” he explains, “they're paying you to go there.”

“If I get to go,” I say.

“You better or I'll never forgive you.”

He thinks I should go without Amber, but I still don't see it as an option. It would screw up all three of our lives instead of making them better. I've decided that she's right and I will probably own Jimmy's shop someday, so if she doesn't change her mind, then I'm going to suck it up and forget I ever heard of McPherson. I send in my acceptance paperwork, though. Just in case.

The other weird thing about these past couple of weeks is that Han has disappeared at lunch. Ever since Shenice quit school, it's been the two of us on the days I'm not with Natalie, but now I'm stuck eating on my own because I can never find him. The days are warmer, so sometimes I take a nap in the Mustang. I'm even more exhausted than usual. David's so busy with all his fancy high school awards banquets and his tennis team that he doesn't want to work much, and I've picked up his shifts at the garage. I'm now working almost every night except the Thursdays when I have to go to Forward Momentum.

Between work and school, I almost never see Han or Amber anymore, and although Natalie's growing and getting her own little personality, I'm kind of bored with only her for company. That's why one Saturday night, I invite Han over to play video games. Not my favorite activity in the world, but he likes it.

“Will there be pizza?” he asks.

“Seriously?”

“I love Big Apple pizza.”

“You're such a loser,” I say, and he laughs. “Yeah, okay. I'll get some.”

Han comes by about nine o'clock. Amber's at the Glass Slipper and Gil and Mom are playing cards at Aunt Pearl's, so it's the three of us. Nat's happily swatting at a mobile and rolling around in her playpen while we play games on Han's computer.

“So where've you been?” I ask after a while.

“When?”

“At lunch.”

“Oh . . . around.”

He's totally hiding something. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blushes.

“You do! Who is it?”

“I don't have a girlfriend.”

“A boyfriend?” I never pegged Han for the type.

He turns even redder. “No boyfriend.”

“So what's up? You haven't joined the chess team or computer club or something geeky like that, have you?”

“No.”

“Oh, God. Don't tell me you tried out for the spring musical.”

He laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“So? What, then? What's the big secret?”

He takes a deep breath. “Don't be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I was trying to help.”

My insides tighten at his defensiveness. “What the hell's going on?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Han?”

“Okay . . . I've been hanging out with Natalie.”

“Natalie who?”

He looks at me like I'm stupid and points at the playpen. “That Natalie.”

“You mean with Amber? When she goes to daycare at lunch?”

Is he dating my sister and they didn't want to tell me?

“Not exactly.”

And then something snaps into place. On Thursday, I'd had the weirdest conversation with Mei-Zhen. She told me that we couldn't keep sending Han in to hang out with Natalie at lunchtime because she's our responsibility. At the time, I thought she meant that day I skipped to go to the swap meet, but now I get it.

“You mean you've been going instead of Amber?” I ask. “Why?” Han's staring at me with those huge blue eyes, and he looks scared. “What's going on? Why hasn't Amber been going to daycare at lunch?”

“Uh . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“Maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell you this.”

Panic surges through me. I already know where this is going, but I have to hear it. “Say it!”

“Amber dropped out.” He scoots away like I might hit him. Or maybe he's afraid of the streams of fire shooting out of my eyes.

“That stupid bitch,” I say. “I'm gonna kill her.” I start packing up Natalie's stuff so I can take her with me to the Glass Slipper. There's no way I'm waiting for Amber to finish work before I yell at her.

But Han stops me. “I'll watch Nat,” he offers.

“I don't know when I'll be back.”

He shrugs. “Doesn't matter.”

He's looking at me kind of funny and I say, “What?”

“Nothing . . . Just drive safe, okay?”

It occurs to me as I head out to the car that he's offered to watch the baby in case I drive too fast. Like I would ever do that with her in the car. Still, I am pretty fucking mad, and once I get my hands on Amber, she's gonna be toast. Since I don't have Nat with me, I do end up speeding, daring my stupid friendly neighborhood cop to pull me over.

It's darts night at the Glass Slipper, and the parking lot's packed. I squeeze the Mustang in between two big-ass trucks. Hopefully I'll leave before the drunks come out and bash in my doors with theirs. The last thing I have time for is more body work on my car.

The kitchen door is open to let in the late-April air, and I take the crumbling steps two at a time, the screen door banging behind me.

“Hey, Crystal,” Brad says from his place over the deep fryer. “Put your hair up if you're gonna be in my kitchen.”

The guy serves the greasiest, most questionable food in Portland, but he's a freak about hair. I grab a net from the box on the counter and pull it over my ponytail. “Better?”

He nods and I go into the hot, damp room where Amber's loading the industrial dishwasher with her back to me. “You dropped out of school?” I yell over the hiss of the sprayer she's using to clean off bits of stuck-on food.

She jumps about a mile and then slides the plastic crate of dishes into the washer without even looking at me, slamming down the lid like it's a guillotine and she wishes my head was under it. There's a second of silence before the machine kicks in with a
whoosh
of water.

“So?” I ask.

“Last time I checked,” she says, keeping her back to me, “you weren't my mom.”

“We had a deal.”

“I didn't think deals mattered to you anymore.”

This is crazy. For the last two weeks she's been talking to me like normal and I thought maybe we were getting somewhere. “You promised!”

“Huh,” she says, all sarcastic like. “I guess I lied. Now you know how it feels.”

One of the cocktail waitresses shoves a bin full of glasses through the little window and sticks her head in. “Ruby needs these ASAP.”

“Yeah, okay.” Amber loads them upside down on a blue plastic rack. The dishwasher finishes its cycle with a
thunk,
and she pops the doors open, engulfing us both in a cloud of hot steam that smells a lot like Bonehead's farts. Once she's got the glasses in, she turns and faces me, her expression blank.

“I'm busy here,” she says. “You can go.”

“Amber? Come on—”

“Forget it. It's too late.”

It can't be. I know for a fact she was still going to school a few weeks ago. “What happened? Did you do this to get back at me for applying to McPherson?” Her face hardens for a second and I think she's going to yell, but instead she bursts into tears. Instantly my heart melts.

“Hey, Am—”

“Where's the damn glasses?” Aunt Ruby yells through the window. She sticks her head inside and sees us both. “Come on, Amber, less talking and more washing!” Amber's got her back to Ruby so our aunt doesn't see she's crying. I step around my sister and pull the hot glasses out of the dishwasher, then slide the whole tray to Ruby.