Page 7 of The Road Sometimes Taken

What in the actual fuck? He can’t be for real. It was just a game.“What are you talking about?” I ask, pretending I don’t remember the dare he agreed to months ago. If it wasn’t for the perfect flowers in my arms, my body language would be very different from what it is now.

“Allie’s dare? I’m supposed to drive you back to Baker Oaks,” he quips and I’m sure my face looks as astonished as I feel right now.I’m going to kill her.

I turn around to grab my bag and the last box of supplies I need to pack. I wish I could carry everything, but the damn flowers—no, I didn’t mean to say “damn,” beautiful flowers, I’m sorry—just won’t fit. I’m on the verge of throwing a tantrum like one of my students when Manny steps in and takes the box and my bag from me.

“You can just hold the flowers, Cara,” he insists with a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s go.”

“‘Let’s’is one too many people, Manny.I’mgoing. You cango back to corporate America where you usually live.” I try to take the box and bag from him, but I can’t. He holds both above him. I look up at him and his giant self, and I know he is too tall for me to try anything. Add the extra height of his arms, and it’s worse.

I stomp my foot and roll my eyes at him. “Agh, ‘kay. Let’s go.”

He follows behind me as I walk past some rooms and wave to the teachers who are finishing up their day. I go past Beth, our school’s mom. She’s really our school’s secretary but I don’t know how any of us would survive without her.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to do my end-of-the-year checklist and return my keys, okay?” I ask and she walks around her desk, wrapping me in a hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie. I’m soaking up all the hugs I can get today,” she replies, her voice warm and affectionate. “Are you going to the end-of-the-year dinner tonight too?” She looks at me with those earnest eyes that make it impossible to refuse her.

I hadn’t planned on going because I’m running on empty and would prefer to indulge in s'mores pie while binge-watching One Tree Hill. But now, with this mastodon standing here looking insufferably smug, my plans might change.

“I’ll be there, Ms. Beth,” I reply, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel.

“Well, hello there,” she coos, turning her attention to Manny. Her gaze softens as she takes in his smile.

Manny places the box gently on the floor and extends his hand toward her with a confident smile. “Manny Zabana, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Bethany, but you can call me Beth.” She shakes his hand, but her eyes are on me, smiling mischievously.

Great.Just great.

Now everyone will be asking me about this guy.

“Ms. Beth, this is Manny, my best friend’s brother. He was just leaving,” I explain, pulling Manny by his arm and trying to walk out of this place.

“I’ll see you tonight!” I shout before stepping through the double doors and out into the hot day.

3

ABOUT TO EXPLODE

SCARED TO START, MICHAEL MARCARGI

Manny

Cara is walkingwith purpose toward what I assume is her car, her movements sharp and determined. As she walks, she mutters to herself in a low, indecipherable tone, her golden locks swaying with each step. She throws her hands up in frustration, then turns to me, her face flushed a deep red like a cherry tomato.

“Woah, woah, why do you look like you’re about to explode?” I ask, taken aback by her intense expression.

“Maybe because I am! What the hell are you doing here, Manny?” she snaps, her irritation palpable.

“I already told you, little firecracker. I’m here to drive you back to Florida,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“I thought you were joking. I didn’t even know you drove anymore, Mr. Fancy Pants with a driver,” she sasses.

“I do drive, and I never back down on a dare. Allie dared me, I took it, and now I’m here to fulfill it. Tomorrow is the firstday of June, so I’m here to take you back,” I say with a grin, flashing my best charm. It doesn’t seem to sway her, as she scoffs and heads toward a vehicle that looks straight out of a Barbie movie.

She opens the door of the pink van-microbus-looking thing, probably from the sixties. It has flowers decorating the side doors and the inside looks like it came out of a vintage movie. The seats are beige and very well taken care of. There are pink and flower details everywhere and a disco ball hanging from the rearview mirror.

She places the bouquet inside and looks at the box and bag I’m holding, opening her arms in a silent request.

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