Brake for It #4
“Anyway,” he says, “we’re about to go on tour.
Then to college.” Cameron lets out a sigh of relief like he’s been waiting to say all of this out loud.
“You said you wondered about us, and I did, too. You’re my best friend, Willa.
I don’t want to jeopardize this. But…” He takes a deep breath like he’s gearing up for battle.
“What if this was all meant to happen just so you and I could wind up here at Knot’s Creek after the best show of my life?
What if we’re meant to have one incredible night together? ”
I hold my breath, searching his face. There are so many things I could say, but none of them make their way to the tip of my tongue. All I can do is count to ten and hope the plan works.
“Do you think I’m terrible?” he asks.
I must smile, my lips moving of their own accord, because Cam’s face relaxes and he leans forward, his mouth so close to mine, tilting, expecting…
I grip the strap of my bag tightly, my camera heavy at my hip. The grooves of his car keys slice into my skin, and just when I think it’s not going to work, that the timing is off, I’m blinded by the headlights that suddenly shine through the back windshield.
That’s my cue.
I reach for the door handle and yank it open, throwing myself out of the car.
“Hey!” Cameron calls. “What are you doing?”
I slam the door closed and jam the key into the lock on my side of the car, turning it so every door locks from the inside, so Cameron can’t get out.
“Willa!” he calls, yanking on the door handle. “What the hell!”
I glance at the car behind me, still invisible behind the blinding headlights. But I know who’s there.
I take off, with Cameron still pounding at the glass inside his car, and dash to the Beast. The engine is running, and I hop up into the passenger side. Drew’s in the driver’s seat with her hands at ten and two, her eyes focused and her brow furrowed.
“Did you get it?” she asks, nodding at my bag. I open it up and show the inside to her so she can see the recorder I slipped in there earlier, its red light flashing.
“All of it,” I say. “Every single word.” Drew’s shoulders relax, and she tosses her hair around.
“Prick.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Drew throws the Beast in reverse, and as she navigates out of Knot’s Creek with precision, I say a silent prayer of thanks that I made her practice driving stick today while I was in the darkroom so we’d be able to make a quick getaway in this thing.
I’d heard the full story from her on Thursday when I cut class, just after Cameron sold me and everyone else the bullshit story about Drew cheating on him.
Joe was just some guy at the roller-skating rink who wanted her to work an extra shift.
That was it. And when Cam blew that text out of proportion, Drew realized he was looking for a way out.
“It was so obvious,” she said, her tears turning to fury. And once he started telling people she was a cheater—once her reputation was trashed—the plan came into focus. She’d skip school for another day so Cam could spread his story far and wide.
All the while, I’d play the what-if card. Before Drew and Cam started dating, I harbored a tiny crush on him, but once I saw how happy she was, I put those feelings in a box, and after a while, they disappeared. He became Drew’s boyfriend, my friend.
But I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t peek inside the box on Thursday, before Drew told me what really happened. For a moment, I really did wonder what if Cam and I got together after all this time? Thankfully, that didn’t last long. Not when I learned what Cam was really capable of.
Now there’s only one what-if left: What if I let him get away with it? What if I let him trash Drew, get off scot-free, and ride off into the distance with his guitar and his lies?
Impossible. I could never.
Sure, there will be no more group texts. No more movie nights in his basement. No more slumber parties in tents in my backyard. No more photographs of his band practices. No more us. But that’s not my fault. Not Drew’s, either. Cam threw that all away like none of it ever mattered.
Which is why I had to get him to admit that Drew didn’t cheat, that he lied to everyone, and that all he wanted was his freedom.
“He could have told the truth,” Drew says now, as we drive away. “I would have accepted a normal breakup.”
“Yeah, well. He was afraid.”
“I hope he never pulls this shit again.”
I dangle the keys from my fingers, then toss them out the open window, not caring where they land. “He never will.”
Drew lets out a whoop, her fist punching toward the air above us. She reaches over to the speaker and turns up the volume on the Cher cassette. “I love this bitch,” she says.
“I love this bitch,” I say, pointing at her.
Drew’s head tips back, and her long waves fly out into the night as we careen down the dark road.
I know I said everyone can see the Beast coming from a mile away (okay, four blocks at least).
But that’s only during the day. Not at night when I’m with my best friend in the whole world. When we fly through the darkness.
Drew lays her hand palm up on the bench between us, and I clasp her fingers in mine, squeezing.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Anytime.”