Page 90 of Instant Karma

“It’s like running from the zombie apocalypse,” muses Jude.

No one answers and, after a few seconds, Ezra leans forward, settling his chin on the bench between me and Ari. “I like your ride. ’62 Falcon?”

Ari glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Uh. Yeah. That’s right.”

“Ever thought of putting a V8 in it? Get some more horsepower?”

“Uh.” Ari’s brow furrows as she tries to concentrate on driving. “No. Never thought about it.” She shifts to a higher gear, but the movement is awkward, making the car jerk a couple times. I wince, feeling bad for the sea lion in the back.

“Let me know if you do.” Ezra rubs his fingers along the cream-colored upholstery between me and Ari. “I moonlight at Marcus’s Garage on weekends. Wouldn’t mind spending some time under this hood.”

I frown and glance at him over my shoulder, unable to tell if he’s talking in euphemisms or not. “So what’s your primary job?” I ask.

Ezra looks at me, surprised, as if he’d forgotten I was there, too. “What?”

“You said you moonlight at Marcus’s Garage, which implies it’s your second job. So what’s your first job?”

He stares at me a second longer, before a slow smile spreads across his face. “Living the easy life, Prudence. It’s a full-time gig.”

I roll my eyes, and he turns his attention back to Ari. “Didn’t I see you at the bonfire party? With the guitar?”

“Yeah, that was me,” says Ari.

“You’re pretty good. I didn’t recognize the songs you were playing.”

“Oh. I wrote most of them. I mean, some of them. Not all. I think I played some Janis Joplin that night and some Carole King, if I remember… Those definitely weren’t written by me. Obviously.” I glance over at Ari. She’s blushing. My gaze skips back to Ezra, who seems oblivious to how nervous he’s making her. I’ve never given much thought to Ezra Kent’s looks, I guess like I’d never given much thought to Quint’s, either… until recently. I guess Ezra could be called cute, in an unconventional way. He’s thin, pale, and freckled, with red hair that’s just a tinge too dark to be called ginger. He wears it long, to just beneath his ears. He has a troublemaker’s smile.

This, I notice now for the first time.

I wonder when Ari started to notice—because I’m suddenly sure that she has.

I clear my throat. “EZ, are you wearing your seat belt?”

Ari gasps and swerves over to the shoulder before slamming on the brakes. Quint curses and immediately turns around to make sure the kennel in the back is okay.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” says Ari, breathless and wild-eyed. “But you have to be wearing a seat belt!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Ezra sits back and pulls the seat belt around himself, clicking it in place. “There we are. Locked and loaded.”

A new silence falls around us as Ari pulls back onto the road. “So, Quint,” says Jude. “How long have you been volunteering at the center?”

I peer into the car’s side mirror. When Quint leans the right way, I can catch glimpses of his mouth as he speaks.

“I pretty much grew up there,” he says. “I wasn’t allowed to start officially volunteering until I was fourteen. But I’ve been helping out since I was little.”

“You work there during the school year, too?”

“Yep. Spring is our busy season, when we’re taking in animals almost everyday. We get shorthanded fast. For the most part the teachers have been pretty cool about it, though.”

“They say that life is the best teacher,” says Ari.

“And where do you go to school?” asks Ezra.

“St. Agnes,” she answers.

Ezra gives a low whistle. “I’ve always liked a girl in uniform.”

Ari’s cheeks go crimson again.

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