Page 20 of The Ex Puck Bunny
Me too, though we haven’t been fighting the same battle.
This time, I yawn and she follows suit.
Strangely, I don’t want her to go just yet. I have the urge to show her that I’m not a jerk or a loser or whatever monster she’s made me out to be.
Though, I am a liar and a secret keeper.
My voice is barely above a whisper when I say, “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t tell your parents the time we snuck your father’s Dodge out of the barn and went on a joyride.”
“How’d you know that I knew?”
“Because I saw your bedroom door open when we were tiptoeing down the hall filled with the kind of thrill that only comes from thinking we were getting away with something.”
“If you saw me, why didn’t you warn my brother?”
“I did, but he didn’t care.” I half-heartedly did. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about Derek’s driving skills at the age of fourteen. Nor did I want to be the second person in my family to be pulled over and arrested. However, we made the drive to and from the All Ears Diner & Fuel Station out by the highway without incident. It was open twenty-four hours, and we had the bright idea to go get pie. Never thought we’d go through with it.
Heidi says, “I wish you’d all gotten grounded.”
I snort. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t a punishment in my household.” My mother didn’t care much about what I did and that was part of the problem.
“Was the pie worth the risk?”
“Every bite, especially when Derek covered Trey’s face with whipped cream after he suggested we dine and dash.”
“Serves him right.”
“Is this about him?” I ask, taking a risk.
Heidi shifts uncomfortably. “What? No. I hate him.”
“So by association, you also hate me,” I say, piecing things together.
Her silence is as good as an answer. It cuts at an old wound—growing up, my identity was tied to my mother’s. She was the town sop, so this hurts and feels unfair just as it did when I’d come to school smelling like spilled liquor, cigarettes, and dirty laundry. It wasn’t my fault, yet I bore the brunt.
“I’ll bring you home,” I say after a beat.
Unlike the silence that wedged itself between us earlier, now, quiet settles like we’re both deep in thought.
Before I come to a stop in the Rice’s driveway, I anticipate Heidi jumping out of the still-moving vehicle. I can practically hear her slam the door. Instead, she remains in the passenger seat. Maybe because the rain turned heavy again.
Clearing my throat, I say, “If I’m wrong and this doesn’t have anything to do with Trey, just so you know, back in the day, I never hooked up with any of your friends.” I was always respectful—mostly because I didn’t pay much attention to Derek’s bratty little sister.
“I never had a crush on you,” she counters.
“Good.”
“Why is that a good thing? Don’t you want the love and adoration of all the puck bunnies?” Her tone is cold.
And the brat is back.
I answer, “That’s not love, and no, that’s not what I want.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You can think what you want. Again, if this isn’t about Trey, just so you know, I didn’t gossip or tell anyone that you always left your dirty clothes outside the laundry basket.”
She huffs. “Derek did too.”
