Chapter 5
We drove for a while, past campus, past the nice area of downtown (small as it was), through the sketchy area of downtown (bigger), and to the downright scary area of the small city.
“God, this town is a total shithole,” Jane remarked. She said the exact same words my father had told me when he’d dropped me off: “Stay on campus, Lily. This town is a shithole.”
There was the same amount of judgment in both their voices.
“Well, not all of us were born with silver spoons,” Stick said to Jane.
“Only half of a silver spoon. And it doesn’t make the town any less of a shithole…asshole. What kind of car is this, anyway? I feel like I’m in a bad ’70s cop show.”
“This is a 1970 Dodge Charger,” Stick said with obvious pride. “Restored to its original glory. An American classic.”
“Yeah, a classic, all right…classic case of bad taste in cars.”
And they were off. The verbal volleys flying fast and furiously between them. I’d heard Jane reduce guys to stammering idiots with her quick acid tongue, but Stick gave it right back to Jane.
Lucas smiled listening to them. “Fun with Stick and Jane,” he said quietly to me. I returned his smile, stunned by the brilliance of his, the absolute transforming power of his smile, from broody tough guy to—dare I say—sweet.
“You have the most gorgeous smile,” he whispered.
Jane and Stick were still talking up front, but their banter became white noise, and I felt the cocooning power of being alone with Lucas in Stick’s back seat.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. I grimaced at my stupidity.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t ever regret telling me the truth.” His voice was serious, the smile faded.
“I won’t,” I said, meaning it. Somehow I knew I could tell Lucas anything and he wouldn’t think I was a clueless freshman.
“How old are you?” I asked. I knew he was older than me, but I didn’t know by how much.
“Twenty-one. You?”
“Eighteen.” He sighed what sounded like relief.
“Almost nineteen,” I added. “I was old for my class.” I didn’t add that my father wanted me to be in the same graduating year as Jane, so, even though I technically could have started school a year earlier, he’d waited.
Never mind that we weren’t even in the same school district that Jane’s mom lived in.
My father—the puppet master even all those years ago. Did he really see this happening—Jane and I being roommates—so far in advance? My bet was yes.
“So, you can buy for us,” Jane said from the front seat, and I realized that though I had tuned them out, she had not done the same to Lucas and me.
“We can,” Stick said. “You ladies want to get wasted?”
“No,” I said at the same time Jane said, “Yes.”
Seconds later, Stick pulled up in front of a liquor store—a very shady-looking liquor store—and hopped out, leaving the car running.
Jane turned and looked at me, then at Lucas. Really looking him over, but not in a come-on kind of way. Jane and I had our issues, but she had a streak of loyalty in her that ran deep.
We’d only been roommates a week, and Jane had locked horns with Syd almost that entire time, when Jane and I overheard a couple of girls talking trash about Syd behind her back.
Jane called them out, intimidated the crap out of them.
When I asked Jane about it later, she just shrugged and said, “I can tell Syd she dresses like a poser, but those two bitches better steer clear.” I just shook my head at her logic.
“Lily,” she said, “she’s ours. Syd, that is.
And we take care of our own.” To her, it was as simple as that.
“You’re right,” she said now as she turned from Lucas back to me. “Totally smoking hot.” She turned back in her seat, facing the front, smirking at the position she’d put me in. “Too bad his friend is such a troll.”
Lucas turned to me with a grin, and quirked a brow.
“I didn’t say that,” I said. Jane did a fake choke/cough/“bullshit” from the front. Lucas just smiled wider.
And moved closer to the middle of the seat. He patted the space between us and I moved closer to him. I was so drawn to him, I wanted to crawl right onto his lap, but I stopped myself. But the hungry look in his eye told me he wouldn’t mind if I did.
So caught up in being close to Lucas, I started when Stick opened the car, handed a brown paper bag to Jane, and got in.
He roared off while Jane dug into the bag.
She pulled two beers out and handed them over the seat to us. Lucas took them both, twisted the lids, and handed one to me.
“Rolling Rock?” Jane said. “Seriously? They didn’t have Sam Adams, or an IPA or something?”
“Big beer connoisseur at eighteen, are ya?” Stick said.
“I’ve had a few,” Jane said, using the haughty voice she’d first used with me. For about a day.
“Nothing wrong with good old Rolling Rock,” Stick said, taking the bottle Jane handed him and taking a large gulp. “Besides, it’s about half the price of that fancy piss.”
“I would have paid,” Jane said.
The car slowed at a red light and Stick looked at Jane. “Let’s get this straight right now. I don’t take money from Bribury Basics. Got it?”
I waited for Jane’s come back, but she just stared at Stick for a second. “Whatever,” she finally said, and took a drink from her own beer.
Stick took another gulp and let out a large burp as the light turned to green and we rolled farther away from campus to the other side of town.
“Oh, that’s attractive,” Jane said to Stick’s belch.
“Like I give a shit what you think.”
“You owe me, Lily,” Jane said.
We rode in silence until Jane asked, “Just why do townies call us Bribury Basics, anyway?”
“You really want to know?” Stick said, taking a glance at Jane.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
I stiffened, waiting. I had a feeling we wouldn’t want to hear this.
“You’re all the same. You’re all lemmings.
Basic North Face jacket. Basic Uggs. Basic leggings or designer jeans.
Basic long, straight hair. Nothing original, nothing unique, nothing…
” He let the rest of his description fade away as he looked Jane over once again.
Not one thing on Stick’s list held true for Jane.
She was wearing this cool vintage Nehru jacket that I’d coveted the moment I saw her hang it in her closet.
Though I’d probably never wear it even if I’d owned it.
She also had on an older type of pants called painter’s pants.
I have no idea where she found them, but they were boxy and baggy and hung off her curves in a very flattering way.
A filmy print peasant blouse under the jacket, and old-style white Chuck Taylors (not the cute new colored ones) on her feet.
Shortish, chin-length hair was tucked behind her ears, trying to tame the wild curls.
She raised a brow at Stick, daring him to eat his words.
“Same basic Bimmer or Audi in the parking lot.” Jane opened her mouth to argue, but Stick quickly finished with, “When you’re allowed to have cars in the parking lot, second semester.”
“Oh, so, so wrong, on all counts.” Jane said what was obvious to all of us in the car, even those who had only met Jane tonight.
“Same basic Daddy’s Little Princess,” Stick said, trying to make a last throw onto the dartboard of Jane.
A bark of laughter came from Jane, sounding harsh, even for her. “Strike three, asshole. And you are ouuuuut.”
Yes, the Bribury Basic label would never apply to Jane. And in a weird way, it was too bad, because Jane, on some level, did not want to stick out. Did not want to draw attention to herself. She would have loved to blend in, be a Basic in a sea of Bribury Basics.
But it just wasn’t in her to do so. And I think that killed her. It reminded her that maybe she was in fact her mother’s daughter. And that probably killed her even more.
But me? I looked down at myself. North Face jacket. Leggings. Uggs. Long, straight hair (though up right now because it was still wet).
I definitely fit the mold on the outside.
But what was more, I knew I adhered to what Stick was really saying—there was no substance.
I had followed the trends in high school.
I was following them here at Bribury. I didn’t want to stand out, not in a “what the hell is she wearing?” way, and knew enough to know how not to.
And the car? Well, a sleek blue Audi RS4 had been promised to me, as long as Jane stayed out of trouble our entire freshman year. Or at least didn’t get caught or end up on YouTube or something.
It was naturally assumed that I would not do any of those things.
As for the Daddy’s Little Princess? It galled me, but yeah, I was.
At least in comparison to my older sister Alexis, who was what passed in our family for a wild child, though in reality, she wasn’t much of one.
And my younger brother Gray, who was beginning to bristle at my father’s grooming of his future.
Although I hated that it mattered, it was important to me to be in my father’s good graces, to have him…notice me, I guess.
Even if it was as a pawn in whatever game he was playing with Jane’s father.
Lucas was looking over at me. Of course he’d known I was the embodiment of the “lemming” Stick had described.
“Stick’s full of shit,” Lucas said softly.
“No I’m not. They’re so—”
“Stick’s full of shit,” Lucas said again, loudly, firmly.
Stick finally got it. Perhaps because he had Jane sitting next to him, visually negating everything he was saying. “Ah, sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean…” He couldn’t finish. It was a lie. He had meant it. And what’s more, he was absolutely right.
We all drank our beer and Stick drove us to a deserted-looking area. He turned the car so we were parallel to a long cement wall that was covered in graffiti. He put the car in park and cut the engine.
“Jane, would you please open your door and let me out?” Lucas asked.
Jane looked around at the desolate area, but did as Lucas asked, leaning forward in her seat so the back could go up. Lucas got out then held his hand out to me. “Come on,” he said.