The Last Song(24)

“I’m really sorry it didn’t work out.”

Scott was dubious. “Yeah, I can tell.”

By that point, the oil had drained. Will grabbed the cans and headed up the steps while Scott stayed below to replace the plug and dump the used oil into the recycling barrel. As Will opened the can and set the funnel, he glanced at Scott below.

“Hey, by the way, did you see the girl who stopped the fight?” he asked. “The one who helped the little boy find his mom?”

It took a moment for the words to register. “You mean the vampire chick in the cartoon shirt?”

“She’s not a vampire.”

“Yeah, I saw her. On the short side, ugly purple streak in her hair, black fingernail polish? You poured your soda over her, remember? She thought you smelled.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, reaching for the pan. “You didn’t notice her expression after you slammed into her, but I did. She couldn’t get away from you fast enough. Hence, you probably smelled.”

“She had to buy a new shirt.”

“So?”

Will added the second can. “I don’t know. She just surprised me. And I haven’t seen her around here before.”

“I repeat: So?”

The thing was, Will wasn’t exactly sure why he was thinking about the girl. Particularly considering how little he knew about her. Yeah, she was pretty—he’d noticed that right off, despite the purple hair and dark mascara—but the beach was full of pretty girls. Nor was it the way she’d stopped the fight in its tracks. Instead, he kept coming back to the way she’d treated the little boy who’d fallen. He’d glimpsed a surprising tenderness beneath her rebellious exterior, and it had piqued his curiosity.

She wasn’t like Ashley at all. And it wasn’t that Ashley was a bad person, because she wasn’t. But there was something superficial about Ashley, even if Scott didn’t want to believe it. In Ashley’s world, everyone and everything was put into neat little boxes: popular or not, expensive or cheap, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly. And he’d eventually grown tired of her shallow value judgments and her inability to accept or appreciate anything in between.

But the girl with the purple streak in her hair…

He knew instinctively that she wasn’t that way. He couldn’t be absolutely sure, of course, but he’d bet on it. She didn’t put others into neat little boxes because she didn’t put herself in one, and that struck him as refreshing and different, especially when compared with the girls he’d known at Laney. Especially Ashley.

Though things were busy at the garage, his thoughts kept drifting back to her more often than he expected.

Not all the time. But enough to make him realize that for whatever reason, he definitely wanted to get to know her a little better, and he found himself wondering whether he would see her again.





8




Ronnie



Blaze led the way to the diner Ronnie had seen on her walk through the business district, and Ronnie had to admit that it did have some charm, particularly if you were fond of the 1950s. There was an old-fashioned counter flanked with stools, the floor was black and white tiles, and cracked red vinyl booths lined the walls. Behind the counter, the menu was written on a chalkboard, and as far as Ronnie could tell, the only change to it in the last thirty years had been the prices.

Blaze ordered a cheeseburger, a chocolate shake, and French fries; Ronnie couldn’t decide and ended up ordering only a Diet Coke. She was hungry, but she wasn’t exactly sure what kind of oil they used in their deep fryer, and neither, it seemed, was anyone else at the diner. Being a vegetarian wasn’t always easy, and there were times when she wanted to give up the whole thing.

Like when her stomach was growling. Like right now.

But she wouldn’t eat here. She couldn’t eat here, not because she was a vegetarian-on-principle kind of person, but because she was vegetarian-because-she-didn’t-want-to-feel-sick kind of person. She didn’t care what other people ate; it was just that whenever she thought about where meat actually came from, she’d imagine a cow standing in a meadow or Babe the pig, and she’d feel herself getting nauseated.

Blaze seemed happy, though. After she placed her order, she leaned back in the booth. “What do you think about the place?” she asked.

“It’s neat. It’s kind of different.”

“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. My dad used to bring me every Sunday after church for a chocolate shake. They’re the best. They get their ice cream from some tiny place in Georgia, but it’s amazing. You should get one.”