The Miles Between - Page 5

ith white on the sides. The two I can see are in pristine condition, like they have never seen the road. I bend down and look at myself in the convex, shiny hubcap, the world behind me distorted, my own image strangely accurate.

I stand. Someone is quite irresponsible to leave it running unattended like this. I turn and walk away, and a thought stops me. It must belong to the rude teacher. He is just the type who would be so irresponsible as to leave a car with the engine running—and on the lawn, of all things! I fume, wondering how someone in his position could be so foolish. I stomp up the steps toward the center quad. It would serve him right if someone just took off with it. It would serve—

I whirl around and look at the car still purring beneath the trees, its four precious tires begging to hit the road. It would serve me right. But a technicality as wide as the ocean lies between me and those tires. I am a newly minted seventeen, and I have never had a single driving lesson. My parents haven’t provided for that little detail. I don’t know how to drive. Not like many of the other students—

Seth! I turn again and run up the steps. I heard Mira say he has his own car back home. He must be able to drive. And right now he is wandering around Hedgebrook picking up trash, probably disgruntled at the injustice of it all. It’s time for his break. I am granting it. I stop at the edge of the quad and scan the garden for movement. The only human form is the grotesque statue of Argus Hedgebrook at its center, an art commission gone terribly wrong, and the butt of every school prank. His bronze arm extends out in an arthritic gesture like he is about to fall from his perch, instead of the sweeping welcoming pose that was intended. I sigh. Timing is everything, and Seth is not here, and the gargoyle Argus is of no use to me.

I look to the perimeters of the three other dorms and then over to the headmaster’s office. No sign of Seth, trash, or any excuse for a driver. Of course. Why should it be any other way? Today is turning out just as I suspected it would. I shake my head and begin to walk away, but then the tiniest movement catches my eye. Peeking out from the base of Argus’s statue is a foot. I look closer. A jiggling foot. The slug! I run across the quad to the other side of the base, drop to my knees, and grab Seth by the shirt.

“I have a car waiting for us. It’s break time. Can you drive?”

His eyes are wide and startled, like he has been caught slacking, which he has. “What—”

“I need a driver! Can you drive me? Please!”

He stares at me like I am nuts. “I have trash duty—”

“But you deserved extra credit. And you know it. A short ride—that’s all I’m asking for.”

His stunned expression fades, and he stands, brushing my hands loose from his shirt, swiping at the wrinkles I have created. Face-to-face, I am surprised at how tall he is. He looks at me and I know he is going to say no but I don’t turn away and I don’t stop looking because ever since Mira said I noticed him I have made a point not to notice him and for the first time I am noticing that his eyes have a dark ring of brown around a golden iris and I find that infinitely interesting because my eyes are the same color and I think he notices this too at the exact same moment and a chill shivers over me, and like a miracle, he says, “Let’s go.”

“I’ll say this, Des—you sure know how to choose them.”

“It chose me.”

Seth runs his hand over the hood and along the fender until he is standing at the open driver’s-side door. “Just a short ride. Right?”

“Right,” I repeat, but I know it is already more than that. It is written in the day and in our eyes. Seth can’t control this matter of circumstance any more than I can.

We take a last sweep of the grounds before we slide in. The white leather seats are as buttery as the fenders and Seth makes a gesture of ecstasy with his fist. “Who would guess that trash duty could be this sweet?” He gently closes the door, and I feel the world closing behind us.

My heart pounds in my ears. “Go!” I whisper. “Go!”

Seth steps on the gas and we rev forward, bouncing off the lawn and onto the narrow road that twists through the campus. He stops before we reach Gaspar Hall, where the classroom windows face the road. He looks at me. We both slink down in the seats, and he eases forward slowly like we are pulling up the skirts of the car and tiptoeing.

Students seated near windows turn as we pass, their eyes widening to saucers but their lips remaining sealed in solidarity. Civics. English lit. Jillian and Curtis turning in unison, their jaws dropping. Geometry. Seth lifts a hand and waves to Justin Thomas like we are only strolling across the common. Economics. Physics. Mira. Her eyes grow so wide that her irises look like a tiny dot of ink on a sea of white. She disappears from the window. “Maybe you should go faster,” I say.

“We’re doing fine. Relax.”

I realize I don’t really know much about Seth. Like the others, I know his habits at breakfast. I know that he is always late. He works hard to make Mrs. Wicket smile, like it is a clever game for him. He taps his fork on his plate between bites, which drives Aidan to distraction. But I don’t know anything about what is inside of him. I don’t know what he likes or hates or fears, and I realize that, for all my observing—of which I am very proud—I don’t really know any of my classmates beyond their easily observable habits. A breath catches in my throat.

“Can I come?” Mira has barreled around the corner, and Seth stops the car.

“Shh!” he says.

“Did Miss Boggs see you leave?” I whisper.

“Of course not,” Mira says proudly. “She was one copy short for our test today and stepped out in a tizzy to get another. But I’ll never be able to slip back in now.”

Ancient Miss Boggs prides herself on her organization and is never short anything. Why does she have to break her perfect record today?

“Get in,” I sigh. She has already opened the rear door and is sliding into the seat. “But don’t say a word,” I warn her, holding my fist up. She happily nods and raises two fingers in an oath as she sinks down in the seat to prove she is trustworthy. Another time I might be struck at how she takes life’s unexpected turns with such cheer, but right now I am seriously keeping my fist ready.

Seth eases forward. We only have to pass the infirmary and the library before we are at the gate to Hedgebrook and the open road.

“Can we get Aidan?” Mira asks.

Seth and I both whip around, but Seth speaks before I can lash Mira for breaking her oath in less than a minute. “Of course, Mira,” he says sweetly. “Why don’t you skip into his class and ask his teacher for a pass to ditch all his classes for the day?”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson
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