This is the second of my short story unload, and probably the worst and cheeriest. Here it is anyways!
- Peace<3
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“Pleeeease?” I begged clasping my hands together, and widening my eyes.
“Dude, never make that face again.” Ian said, looking up from his things as he rummaged through his locker.
“Well sorry, it was the last thing I had up my sleeve.” I replied, throwing myself against the locker beside his, wincing when the lock jabbed into my back.
“Asher, what do you need my wheels for anyways?” he asked, annoyed.
“I told you, I’m going to the beach party! What’s a better way to go to one of those than in a sweet convertible and a pair of shades?!” I answered, as if it was the most obvious thing.
“Fine, whatever.” he said, giving into the pleading I’ve been going at since first period. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys, tossing them to me just as the Friday dismissal bell rang.
“Not a scratch Asher! You hear me?” he shouted after me as I ran down the hall, getting a thumbs up in reply.
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“OH MY GOD HE’S GOING TO KILL ME!” I exclaimed, pacing the sidewalk, the sun beating down on me.
“He better, or else I will!”, the fuming brunette screamed, stomping back to her group of friends, a baseball bat and rock in hand, leaving a cloud of cheap perfume behind her.
My hands were still in my hair, tugging at the long strands as I stared at what would seal my fate. Multiple long, thin scratches wrapping from the left tail light all the way to the hood, graced the driver’s side of the car. The white scratches contrasted the Camaro’s black sleek body, making them easily visible. But that was only part of the damage. The drivers side window was completely shattered, along with both headlights. The sideview mirror was bashed too, mocking me as it showed me my spiderwebbed reflection.
How did this happen, you might ask? Only six words will explain it all.
I broke up with my girlfriend.
~~
“YOU WHAT?” Ian roared through the phone, causing me to rip the it away from my ear. I could swear I heard a whimper, not sure if it was mine or his.
“I got your car totaled?” I squeaked, my response seeming to be more of a question than an answer.
All I got was a string of colorful profanities, which I clearly heard as I still held the phone at a distance. He continued to rant for at least two minutes, his volume level doing the opposite of decreasing. All of a sudden the line went quiet, and all I heard was a cool, calm order.
“You’re fixing this.”
~~
I let out a deep sigh of relief as I fell back from my squatted position beside the car, and onto my back in the grass beside the driveway. I stared at my handiwork, looking at it from different angles to see if any scratch remnants were visible. Thankfully, they weren’t. I’d been working at the scratches in the afternoon summer heat for a couple hours in an effort to save a little money from all the repairs, knowing this would all cost me quite a few extra shifts at work. I relaxed for a while longer, picking up the garden hose and drenching myself in cool water, feeling it trickle down my back.
The next day, I was walking to the local auto shop, already nervous for the outcome. Pulling the door open, I heard a the little bell above the door ring and saw Roger, the mechanic walk in.
“Ah, Asher!” he said, wiping his hands on a rag and sticking out a greasy hand. I took it anyways, too busy anticipating to care.
“Come on, she’s out back.” Roger welcomed, leading me outside. I shielded my eyes as I stepped out, amazed that the car before me was the same one that I pulled up into the day before. Walking up to it I looked in, seeing that the inside was completely vacuumed from the glass, opposed to the seat where I was constantly getting painful pricks. The window, mirror and headlights were completely replaced, crystal clear and glistening.
“Thank you, it looks great!” I said with a smile. He shrugged and pointed at the convertible.
“No problem, just doing my job. I loved working on the beauty anyways. Besides, I get payed!”
That brought reality rushing back. I felt myself go pale as he handed me the bill. This was gonna put a dent in my pocket for sure.
~~
Later that evening, I was driving up to Ian’s house in the convertible, bracing myself for his wrath. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I took a deep breath and climbed up the steps, mentally singing Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” for self-encouragement.
Reaching out I rang the doorbell, and a few moments later Ian was at the door. To my surprise he seemed rather cheery, but I didn’t miss the evil glint in his eye.
“Thanks man, I’ll see you Monday, I gotta run right now,” he said as he oddly brushed past me, jumping into the car. I followed him warily, unsure about his overall reaction, gauging his every move.
“Hey man I’m sor-” he cut me off, shrugging his shoulders and waving his hand.
“Who cares, you fixed it right?” he said as he reversed. I nodded slowly, just going with his lead.
As he slowly pulled away he slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and shouted back to me, with a sly, knowing grin.
“Oh by the way, Asher! The car was insured!”
