Your Chariot Awaits

“It will get us there.” He reassures me. I raise my eyebrows and twist the corner of my mouth into an expression of doubt, but say nothing. Instead, I reach over to the dashboard and adjust a lever that indicates some relationship to heat.

“Yeaaaaahhh, that’s not going to help much.”

“Oh my god, is that broke, too?”

“Ah no, not exactly,” he says as he starts to propel the truck down the driveway, “It just takes a while to warm up. We’ll probably be at school before you notice a difference.”

“Oh that will come in real handy . . . in Maine . . . in the middle of January.” As I speak, I feel my phone vibrate.

James just shrugs, still clearly amused, “Obviously, you’ve never been to Chicago.”

“Obviously.” I state absently as I pull my phone out and check the incoming text:

Alex: Hey, where are you?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see James glancing at my phone as he drives.

“Alex,” I explain not wanting to be rude, “my best friend. Remember her?”

“Who could forget?” James says as I text a reply:

Me: running late, getting a ride, explain later

“She doesn’t like me much does she?”

“Don’t feel special,” I shrug, “she doesn’t like anyone.”

This confession makes him smile, and I can’t help but smile back.

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