Page 63 of False Start

“You want to check it out?”

She shook her head. “I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“Well, no worries. I heard you loud and clear: shift with abandon,” I said, snatching the keys from her grasp.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head up. “I’m trusting you, Texas.”

“Second time in as many days. Must be a record.”

Kit wiggled into the passenger seat hole, as she liked to call it. She bolstered her against the door with my pillow and pulled my hoodie over her chest like a blanket before pulling out herphone. “And the best part is it’s my turn to pick what we listen to.”

“I don’t think we established that as a set rule.”

“This is for your education. Future women who have the dubious honor of meeting you will thank me for it,” Kit insisted, disconnecting my phone from the Bluetooth and adding her own.

I shifted in my seat, chafing at the way she said “future women.”

“It’s a book calledInvisible Women. You’ll love it. It’s about data bias in a world designed for men.”

“Sounds riveting.” I mentally prepared myself for a college lecture series mid-car rally. “I introduced you to beef and dairy, and this is how you repay me?”

“And you get to drive. What a treat.”

“You know, navigation isn’t actually that easy,” I teased. “You’ll want to switch back by lunch.”

She plugged her phone into the charger and rifled through the bag of snacks, handing me a water and opening the bag of Doritos which she then dropped in the cup holder closest to me. “Probably not.”

I ground the car into third, pulling onto a road as the audiobook played. By the third stop of the day, not only had my driving improved, but my righteous indignation of a world of misogyny had grown to a full boil.

“You know, I have half a mind to talk to Coach Simmons about our lack of female coaches. We’ve only got one. That’s insane, right? And sports trainers? Less than ten.”

Kit didn’t respond, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you know the cheerleaders don’t even get a full-time salary? I thought that was screwed up before, but now I’m mad about it.”

“Fuck.” The plaintive whisper caught my attention. Rather than listen to my diatribe, Kit had her phone in her hands, face pale.

“Fuck what?” I straightened, chest growing tight. “Everything okay? It’s not Derek, is it?”

She closed her eyes, a glint of tears misting her eyelashes. “No. He’s fine. It’s dumb. I should have double-checked before I left.”

“Double checked what?” I split my attention between the road and her, a sense of foreboding growing in the car.

Her mouth worked as her eyes darted out the front windshield. “I didn’t submit my last case study.”

“Case study?”

“For graduation. I presented it, but between that and final exams and the rally, I forgot to actually turn in the paper.” Her voice wavered.

“Okay,” I said, mind racing. I’d rubbed up against enough deadlines in college to have some idea of how to navigate her predicament. “Not a big deal. Do you have the paper backed up somewhere?”

Kit grimaced.

“You don’t have it backed up to a cloud? Maybe one we could access from your phone?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be freaking out.”

I frowned. “So, where is the paper?”

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