Page 1 of Rumor Has It

ONE

THEO

This car is a goddamn piece of shit. Not just a regular piece of shit. A damned-by-God-himself piece of shit. I should know. I’ve been working on the damn thing for like, a decade. This is what I get for being a mechanic and having a best friend with a junk car.

But Ellie is like that. I can’t seem to convince her that buying a new one is pretty much necessary now. It’s not that she can’t get a loan or has bad credit. She simply believes in riding it out until it’s beyond repair. Somehow, she thinks she owes it to the thing in question, like it both has the ability to hear her and a destiny to fulfill.

So she’ll get one the moment this thing takes its final trip and breaks all the way down, and not a moment sooner. I just hope it isn’t on a deserted back road at one in the morning, because it will be my ass having to save her.

“You about done with Ellie’s car?” my dad calls from the other car bay.

Of the two of us, he definitely drew the easier project today.

“Sort of. Gotta order a part,” I say. I take a moment to admire the pristine early model Ford Bronco my dad is working on. Shep, the owner, never fails to bring his baby in for routine maintenance. He’s the kind of vehicle owner that makes our jobs a hell of a lot easier. Everyone should be like Shep.

Which is why I sigh rather loudly when I turn back to Ellie’s hunk of shit. Her parents bought her this Corolla as a high school graduation gift. It was brand new at the time, but now it’s thirteen years later, and she traveled back and forth from her college campus every weekend, forgot more than one oil change, and waits until the last minute to change tires and belts, so here we are. Her problem is my problem.

That’s how it’s always been, though.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and guzzle half a bottle of water, remembering the first day I met Ellie in fourth grade. Her family had just moved into town, so she was the new kid, of course. And considering our small town only gets a new kid maybe once every two or three years, it’s always a big deal.

She got lost in the halls looking for her classroom, and when I stopped to help her, it turned out we were in the same class. And as it happened, the only free spot in the class was sitting right next to me. It was pretty much a wrap after that. That, and the one time I rescued her from death. Inseparable like peas and carrots. Like Jenny and Forrest—except for the romantic element, even if there was that one time during spin the bottle when things got weird.

I check the clock and realize it’s about time to go get her from work. That’s small-town living for you. None of that fancy rideshare stuff. This makes me her mechanic and chauffeur for the day, unfortunately. Of course, my dad knows if Ellie’s car is in the shop, I’m off work early those days. Which has been a lot of fucking days lately.

Luckily, the school isn’t far. Nothing is all that far in our little slice of paradise. In truth, Cardinal Falls, Kentucky, ain’t all that bad. We’re not living in the Stone Age. We have a Walmart and a grocery store, a movie theater, and we’re not far from a major metropolis, though we’re far enough away that all the girls here have to travel two hours there and back for a decent prom or wedding dress.

I park in the faculty and staff lot, knowing I’ll have to wait until all the buses leave before Ellie will come out. But I text her anyway.

I’m here.

ELLIE

Thank you, Theo Baby.

I don’t know why she calls me Theo. She’s the only person who does. My parents proudly call me by my full name, Theodore. No one else would dare. Growing up, everyone else called me TJ, Jameson being my last name and all. But one day, I was Theo to her. And it’s been like that all these years. I roll my eyes over her use of “baby,” because she only tacks that on at the end when she needs a favor, I’m already doing the favor, or the favor is finally complete. So her car’s in my shop, I’m picking her up, and that’s my official name—Theo Baby. I’ve had worse nicknames.

I flop my head back against my seat and kill time scrolling aimlessly through my phone and thinking about the rest of my day. It’s Friday, which is great. But that also means I can’t get the final part for Ellie’s car until Monday, so I’m stuck driving her around all weekend.

The bell rings in the distance as children begin to pour out of three different sets of doors. I’m beginning to wonder if anything changes, as I see the same hair and fashion trends on repeat all these years after I walked those halls as a student myself. The way they hoot and holler also makes me wonder why, of all the things my friend is capable of doing, she chose to return to our middle school and teach eighth-grade English and Creative Writing. I’ll never understand it. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you don’t always understand why something makes someone happy. You just have to respect it.

Five minutes later, I spot Ellie coming my way in a group with three other teachers. She throws her head back in laughter at something one of them says. I recognize two of them, as they’ve lived here a long time, and when your family’s auto shop is the only one in town, you get to know a lot of people. But the third is a stranger to me. He’s tall, with dark hair and glasses. I’ve never seen him before, that much I know.

She splits away from the group, waving as she walks toward my car. The stranger gives an enthusiastic wave and says something about seeing her later.

“Who is that?” I ask as she buckles her seat belt.

“He’s the new science teacher, Colin Briggs. He’s from New York and ended up here after his divorce. Wanted a fresh start.”

“Oh, okay. So you’re attracted to him, huh?” I prod her in the ribs with two fingers.

“Stop that,” she yells, slamming her elbow down to block my attack all too late. “You know I fucking hate it when you do that, jerk.”

All I can do is laugh because she’s cute when she’s mad. She also has goldfish emotions, so she’ll be over it in a second.

“And for your information, yes, I think he’s cute. And it’s been a long time since I thought anyone in this town was cute,” she snaps.

“Well, that’s just rude. Because I’m very cute.”

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