Chapter 2

By the endof the first week of practice, I don’t think there’s a muscle in my body that isn’t sore. We finish practice on Friday morning by running a mile, the first time we’ve had to do so during the heat of the day. It doesn’t seem to matter that it’s only 10 am, the oppressive heat still sucks the air out of my lungs as I round the corner and slow to a jog back to the shade of the athletic building to wait for the rest of the guys to join me there. We each come to rest in the shade, some leaning against the building but all of us are careful not to touch each other and spread body heat as we try to slow our heaving breaths.

Coach Smith, never one to make us do something he wouldn’t complete himself, rounds out the last of the stragglers. He jogs in place for a moment, stretching his arms wide over his head to open his ribcage as Coach Baxter nods approvingly.

“You’ve impressed me this week, gentlemen,” he barks. “We’re calling it early today. Go home, rest… But don’t forget to stretch and hydrate, or you’ll be sorry on Monday.”

“I’m sorry today,” Chris Jenson whines weakly from the back.

A chorus of chuckles and groans goes around the team as Coach claps Samson on the shoulder and heads into the air-conditioned building. Coach Smith follows, leaving Samson to clap us out as we all lumber wearily into the athletic building and towards the showers in the locker room. I manage to be among the first players to make it to the back and step under the cooling spray with a sigh of relief. Rubbing circles into my sore shoulder muscles, I wash off the sticky coating of sweat left behind by today’s practice and step out of the stall to give someone else a turn. When I get to my bag I find Cam waiting for me. I pull my clothes on quickly, scrunching my hair in the towel one more time to try to finish drying it out.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Cam asks as he watches me.

“Uh, nothing so far,” I bring the towel down with a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he stands with a grin, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and starting off towards the parking lot. “I found this neat-looking flea market, a few hours away. It’s huge. They built it inside this, like, old pig barn thing… Anyways, some of the vendors were posting pictures and I saw a lot of vinyl. It’d kind of be an all-day thing, but I thought I might go check it out… Want to come with me?”

“Yeah!” I stretch my shoulders as we step into the sunlight, heading towards Glory. “Sure, that sounds like fun!”

“Cool,” he grins, tossing his keys into the air and wincing as he catches them.

“Sore?” I chuckled.

“Yeah, a little bit…”

We climb into the truck, bracing ourselves as Cam turns the key in the ignition and warm air blasts towards us. As cold air starts to slip into the mix I relax back against the seat with a sigh of relief. Glory’s A/C system hasn’t given out on us yet, but in the hot months I always worry that time could be running out. When we’ve had a minute to cool down, Cam pulls out of the lot and down towards the street.

“So, what time should we head out tomorrow?” I ask as I watch out the window.

“Think you’ll be up by eight?”

“I can be,” I wince dramatically. “If there’s breakfast involved…”

“Mooch.” Cam rolls his eyes playfully, smiling as he watches for oncoming traffic and turns onto the main road towards home.

When my phonerings Saturday morning, at exactly 8:01, I am sitting in bed stretching. I reach for my phone, a scratchy sleepy tone dragging into my chuckle as I press the green circle hovering over Cam’s cheek on the screen.

“Nelly? Really?”

“Seemed fitting at lunch,” I swear I can hear him shrug. “It’s been freaking hot.”

“True, I guess,” I rub the back of my free hand across my eyes. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” Cam laughs. “I thought I should make sure you’re really awake, I want to try and get there before it gets too hot.”

“Yeah, I’m up,” I swing my legs to the side of the bed, finishing one last stretch before standing and crossing to my dresser to get clothes. “Just give me ten, I’ll be ready to go.”

“10-4.”

I shake my head, smiling, as Cam hangs up the phone.

Such a dork…

I dress quickly and prioritize comfort on the long drive, pulling on gray gym shorts and a football shirt. I hurry down the hall to the bathroom, brush my teeth with one hand while the other tries to put my curls in some kind of order, then spit into the sink and rinse it all down with a satisfying splash of water. I shoot off a text to Mom reminding her I’m going out for the day, then stuff my phone and wallet into my pockets and sit on the front porch steps while I wait for Cam to pick me up.

It isn’t long before I hear Glory coming down the street, and I stand as they pull to a stop at the curb. He came from the wrong direction, pulling in with the passenger side facing the house, and I raise an eyebrow in question as I jog across the crunchy dry grass in the yard. When I open the door, Camden raises a familiar striped bag in reply.

“Oh,” I grin. “I love you so much. Did you get up early to get these?”

“I figured it’d give you a little more time to get ready,” he shrugs as I slide into the seat and shut the door, then shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb. “That way we can still head out on time.”

“You are a genius,” I say as I peek into the bag.

“I know,” he grins, holding out a hand as he navigates towards Main Street. “Now, taquito me.”

I pull an orange wrapper out of the bag and open it, handing the breakfast taquito to Cam before getting one for myself. We eat as we make our way through our neighborhood to Main, following it until we reach the interstate. Music and cold air blast through the cabin, and I can’t help but smile as we take off for our little road trip. By the time we turn off the interstate to a smaller rural highway, we’ve finished eating. Camden taps a beat on the steering wheel with both hands as we wait at a four-way crossing light. A green light flares overhead and we roll forward, pass a sign on the side of the road indicating a speed limit increase, and we are on our way.

The country highway passes by in a blur of green and brown as Cam speeds through. We laugh and sing along to our local country station on the radio, loudly and poorly, until the signal drops off and he reaches over to turn the dial until it settles on a station crooning classic country. I lean my head towards the window, smiling as the wind blows my hair from the crack at the top, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on my forearm where it rests on the door panel.

It takes me a minute to realize we’ve reached the flea market. I’m not sure what I expected when Cam told me it was inside an abandoned pig farm, but I guess it wasn’t two actual metal barns stretching farther across than a football field, with giant pink and black spotted hogs painted across the side. My eyes widen as I take it in, and Cam’s grin of wonder from the driver’s seat as he turns into the dirt driveway would have made any distance worth it.

We find a place to park in the crowded dirt lot. There are people everywhere, and we have to weave our way through crowds of families hauling wagons and people with dogs on leashes, as well as people with empty arms like us, as we make our way to the large open doors at the end of the building that’s closest to us. Everywhere I turn there is something to see. Food vendors fill the air with the smells of frying oil, powdered sugar, and grilling meat as they market their specialties to the surprising amount of customers wandering the grounds of the marketplace.

Inside the building, the heat is sweltering. Swamp coolers placed throughout the walkway do little to cut the heat and do their own part in increasing the humidity. Cam and I still stare around in wonder as we walk past stalls selling everything from clip-in hair extensions to comic books, to unopened cereal boxes and action figures that have already seen more than their fair share of playtime. Each section is separated with lattice to mark the stalls, and each time we step up to a new storefront we do a quick visual sweep to see if there is anything we’re interested in inside.

As we pass a store with racks of used clothing and shoes lining the walls, Cam grabs my hand and pulls me inside behind him. A surprised laugh bubbles out of me, and I follow along as he leads me through to a rack of ballcaps.

“Oh, no,” I chuckle. “No way, bad idea. This is how you get lice.”

“Lice?” Cam scoffs. “Absolutely not, don’t be a baby.”

“That isn’t being a baby,” I shake my head. “It’s being realistic!”

“I think this is the perfect memento of our time here,” he says, pulling a black hat with the word ‘Baby’ emblazoned in hot pink cursive and outlined in rhinestones.

“I think you’ve lost your mind,” I laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.”

A challenging glint sparkles in his eyes as Cam wheels off, finding the woman sitting at the door to the stall with a bank bag in her hand and handing her two dollars for the monstrosity he then proudly settles onto his head. He ignores the stares of passing shoppers as we re-enter the crowded walkway, and I can’t keep the grin off of my face as I take him in.

“Wow,” I shake my head. “That is… something.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” he winks, turning his back to me and crossing the aisle to enter a stall with milk crates of vinyl albums sitting on top of a folding table.

Both of us flip through the albums, and when I find something I like or think might pique Cam’s interest, I pull it for us to look through together as he makes short work of the other bins. When we come together to compare our pulls, he gasps as he picks up an old George Jones record.

“Yes!” He nods. “This is coming home with me. Oh, look what I found!” Cam excitedly holds up an album by Earth, Wind, and Fire. “Classic.”

“Nice,” I smile, and start restocking the ones he isn’t taking home today. We go pay the man who owns the stall fifty cents each for the four that made the cut.

Three more shops go like this. We look around, Cam either picks some records or looks and moves on, and we window shop on our way between. The fourth store, though, holds something special. While Cam searches the bins on the far right wall of the crowded booth, I make my way to the glass counter to the right where the owner has a selection of knives and collectibles under protected watch.

After a minute I glance up at the wall the man stands in front of, and roll my bottom lip over my teeth. There, resting on top of metal hooks stabbed into the particle board wall, is the soundtrack album to Cam’s favorite movie. Purple Rain. From what I can tell looking at the yellowed corners and the slip of poster peeking out from the side, it looks like it might even be a first release. I glance over my shoulder, but he hasn’t turned this way. A piece of blue painter’s tape in the corner shows the asking price, and after a quick bit of haggling I slip the man with the greasy goatee a crisp twenty dollar bill and he places the square cardboard sleeve into an opaque shopping bag and hands it over the counter to me.

“Find anything good?” I ask Cam as he approaches us.

“Oh yeah,” his eyes glow and he practically bounces on his heels. “You’ve got some real great stuff here, man. I’ll take these two, please!”

By the time we’ve made our way through the second barn, I am dead on my feet. My stomach is growling, my throat is dry, and I don’t think I could make it another fifty yards when we find ourselves in the middle of the food vendor area. I follow Cam to a food truck, and we both order burgers and fries, then I hand over cash for both of our orders before grabbing two soda cans and finding a seat at a picnic table nearby. Camden shifts to the side of the order window, the rhinestones on his new hat glinting in the sun as he waits for our food to be passed through to him out of the opening. I can’t help but grin at the sight, lifting my phone to take a photo for posterity. He turns, paper boats in hand, and winks as he catches me in the act.

“These smell great.” Cam sets the food in front of me, sitting on the bench across from me. The space is so small our knees interlock underneath the table. “I’m really glad you came with me today.”

“Me too,” I say with a smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”

We make short work of our burgers, then squirt ketchup into the corner of the boat of fries and split them between us. When we’ve drained the last of our drinks and wiped our hands on napkins, we throw them into the nearby trashcan and stretch at the table.

“Oh,” I blink, reaching for the bag that I have resting on the seat next to me. “I almost forgot… Here. I got this for you.”

“What?” Cam’s brow furrows, confusion drifting across his features for only a moment before he peeks into the shopping bag and gasps. “What!” He looks up at me, eyes wide. “Where did you find this? How did I miss this? This is my favorite movie!”

“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ve made me watch it ten times. I knew you didn’t have that one, so,” I shrug.

“This wasn’t a quarter,” he says with an accusatory tone, and I just shrug with a smile. “Thank you, El,” he rounds the table and pulls me into a tight hug. “Thank you so much…”

“You’re welcome,” I hug him back. “Baby.”

Cam stiffens in my arms. I pull back slightly, noting his flushed cheeks before I flick the bottom of his hat brim, and he grins in recognition.

“Come on,” he says, clearing his throat as he turns away from me and starts for the parking lot. “We better start heading home.”

I follow him to Glory, warmth running through me. This was such a good day… Every day is when Cam and I go off on an adventure. We crack the windows as Cam starts the truck, turning away from the vents until the air starts to blow cool. I’m glad we left early. Even though we were done in the barns before the worst of the day’s heat took over, it was still getting crazy hot now. Turning up the classic radio station we found on our way up here, Cam carefully pulls out of the busy parking lot and back onto the highway, heading in the opposite direction. The drive seems to pass more slowly on the way back, but maybe that’s just the warm food filling my belly and the dull ache of my tired feet protesting their long walk on concrete floors.

I croon along with Dolly Parton on the radio, leaning my head against the back of the seat with my eyes closed and a smile on my face, as we start back home on the sleepy highway. Cam hums along from my left, tapping along with the beat against the top of the shifter knob. We haven’t gone too far when the sudden slowing of the truck shifts me forwards against the seatbelt. I settle back against the seat with an ‘oomph’ of complaint, opening my left eye and raising an eyebrow as I see Cam grin and engage Glory’s emergency brake.

“Everything alright?” I ask, looking from his hand to the suspicious smile on his face.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “Everything’s great. We’re all alone on this long, flat, straight highway.”

“Yeeees?”

I draw out the word, opening both eyes and turning to face him, my brows furrowing with confusion and no small amount of concern. Cam reaches for his right hip, unlatching the seat belt with a metallic ‘click’, and my heart picks up in my chest for reasons I am having trouble explaining.

Calm down, spaz. Why am I feeling so nervous? It’s not like I think Camden would do something to hurt me.

“What are you doing?” I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight crack in my tone.

“You survived the week,” he says, as if that explains everything. “So come on, you’re learning to drive a stick.”

“What?!” My jaw drops. Of all the scenarios my mind had begun weaving, I have to admit that wasn’t one of them. “No. Uh uh. That’s a terrible idea!”

“It’s a great idea,” he reaches over, flipping the flat metal latch on my seatbelt buckle before I can react. “Besides, you promised.”

A dinging sounds from the dash as Cam rounds the front of the truck and opens my door, a huge grin on his face that I do not return as I cross my arms.

“This is dangerous,” I argue.

“For who?” Camden scoffs. “That soda bottle someone threw out down the way? Come on, there is no one on this road. We haven’t seen more than three other drivers all afternoon. When is there gonna be a more perfect time to learn?”

“I don’t know,” I scrunch my face. “After graduation next year?”

“Elliot,” he scoffs. “Don’t be a baby. I’ll be right here, I promise… Nothing bad will happen.”

I look into his eyes. A mistake, really. I know he’s won before I even release a defeated sigh, and so does he.

“Fine,” I begrudgingly agree. “But just for a little bit. And if we see anyone driving towards us I will stop this truck, and you take over.”

“Deal.”

Cam grins as I scoot across the bench seat, nervously settling both hands on either side of the steering wheel after I buckle myself in. I stare down between my legs at the pedals, the three of them seeming impossibly small.

“There were only two pedals when dad was teaching me before,” I frown, practicing the distance between each one with my foot.

“Yeah, ‘cause your mom’s car is an automatic. That one to the left is the clutch,” Cam explains, sitting more to the middle than the passenger seat as he leans over to help guide me. “You’ll use it all the time, any time you’re switching gears or slowing down. So think of it like a transition pedal, you know?”

No, I swallowed hard. I do not.

“That one on the far right is still the gas, and the bigger one in the middle is the brakes. Easy to remember, because you’ve gotta go easy on the gas. Got it?”

“Uh, sure.”

Tentatively, my feet reach to rest gently just above the clutch and brake pedals. My right foot shifts experimentally from the brake to the gas, feeling how much I’d need to lift to make the adjustment, and while my back is still pinched tight with nerves I feel myself breathe a little easier as I become more comfortable with that transition.

“No rush,” Cam offers when I’ve finished my practice. “But when you’re ready, you’re gonna release that parking brake, depress the clutch, let off the brakes, and I’ll help you shift it into first gear. Okay?”

“Okay,” I nod, letting out a slow breath before doing as he said. I jerk as we roll forwards, before the truck shudders to a stop. My head shoots to Cam, eyes wide, and I prepare to apologize for breaking Glory… But Camden starts laughing.

“That’s okay!” He grins and nods encouragingly. “You just stalled out, it does that. You’ll get it, just have to practice a little more. Put it back in neutral, we’ll start the truck back up and try it again!”

It takes a few tries, but eventually I get the truck started and move forward at a slow and steady pace. Cam whoops in celebration. A proud grin starts to spread across my face, but I keep my eyes trained hard on the controls and the road ahead of me. My arms are ramrod straight on the wheel, like if I let them relax even the slightest bit I might lose control and go off the road.

“I just practiced in a parking lot before.” I swallow hard. “How do I know if I’m where I should be in the lanes?” I ask without looking at him.

“Well it’s lined up now, so take a look near the windshield wipers. Is there a place where the lines on the road are lined up with the wiper?”

“I can’t take my eyes off the road!” I protest, a note of panic in my voice.

“Relax, Speedracer, you’re going like ten miles an hour. You’ll be just fine. Just find where the lines land on the wipers, and make that your waypoint.”

“Okay…” I glance down and to the left, noting that the dashes did in fact seem to fall just in the hook of the wiper arm.

Huh. Neat.

“I’ve got it.”

“Great! You’re doing a good job. So, now that you know where you’re at, give it a little more gas.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Come on, you’re going straight on a flat surface. Step on it a little.”

Swallowing hard, I let my right foot put more pressure on the gas pedal. My heart beats a little faster as the needle on the dash starts to swing right, but Cam’s relaxed position in the passenger seat helps.

“We’re gonna shift to second,” he says, reaching back to the gear shift. “Step on the clutch and I’ll do the knob, okay?”

“Uh,” I nod, ignoring the low-hanging fruit in my discomfort. “Okay. I’m stepping on the clutch.”

“Perfect, let off the gas, slowly,”

The truck jerks slightly as he shifts, then settles into a smooth rhythm beneath my hands. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I travel down the highway.

“I’m doing it!” I laugh breathlessly.

“You’re doing it!” Cam grins beside me. “I knew you could.”

I feel his eyes on me, and risk a glance to my right. His eyes are shining brightly beneath the brim of his new cap, pride and excitement filling his expression as we make our way down the highway. My eyes trail back to the road in front of me, then go wide when I spot the gray creature standing in the middle of the road.

“Cam!”

I gasp, the truck veers slightly as I jerk in my panic. My right foot slams onto the brake pedal, and the cab lurches horribly. An ominous squealing and chugging surround us as I bounce in the seat.

“Use the clutch! Elliot, the clutch!” Cam is shouting next to me, but I can’t seem to make out what he’s saying as I desperately try to engage the brakes of the heavy metal beast before I murder an innocent animal on this highway.

Finally Glory lurches to a stop, several feet in front of the large gray jackrabbit. Her engine stalls out, my foot is pressed all the way to the floor. My breathing is heavy, my heart beating in my ears all I can hear as I watch the rabbit look at me with some disdain, as though he too is disgusted with my performance, before casually hopping off the road. I turn to my best friend, my dry mouth trying to form words, only to realize that next to me, Camden is laughing uproariously. My eyes narrow.

“It’s not funny!”

“I told you to use the clutch,” Cam holds his side, laughing even harder when he takes in the murder in my expression.

“Oh!” I pull the shifter back out of gear, throw off my seat belt, and swing the door of the truck open.

“Elliot, the parking brake!”

I hear him shout from behind me as I slip out of Glory and she starts to roll backwards. Cam seems to laugh even harder as he reaches for the rod, stopping the movement of the vehicle as he slides back into the driver’s seat. After I’m back safely in the passenger seat, I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window. My face feels like it’s at least ten degrees hotter than before, and I know the flush of humiliation is blazoned brightly against the tops of my cheeks as we sit still in the middle of the quiet highway.

“You know, you really did a good job.” I make a noncommittal noise, and his voice is gentler the next time he speaks. “Hey…” A warm hand settles on my knee, and I tilt my chin in his direction even while keeping my eyes trained on the red leather between us. “Are you okay?”

I nod stiffly. I’m embarrassed, but I’m okay. Cam reaches up, and my hair shifts down as he tugs his hat onto my head and taps the brim.

“Cool. Let’s go home.” He restarts the truck and expertly shifts it into gear, starting us off on the road home. He smirks, and I have no doubt he’s thinking about my less successful attempts from before. “You owe me a new clutch…”

I huff out an irritated snort, reaching to turn up the radio as Cam starts laughing again. But I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my lips at the sound as I watch out my window.

Yeah… I did a really good job.