Girls Don't Know Jack

Late Night Drives

"Come on, mom," he grumbles standing from his chair. He grabs onto her elbow and helps her up before escorting her down the narrow hall.

Looking around, I decide to make myself useful so I gather up our macaroni bowls and carry them to the sink to begin rinsing them. Making contact with a small cream dishwasher, I swing it open.

I survey the area, grabbing miscellaneous dishes scattered throughout the room before adding them to the wash.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," a deep voice calls from behind me. I look over my shoulder at the boy shifting uncomfortably.

"It's no trouble," I assure him clanking dishes together as I work. "I did crash your dinner after all. It's the least I could do."

Jack appears next to me, reaching out to grab a few glasses from my pile before placing them in the dishwasher. Our fingers brush past each other and it causes a shock through my body.

Quickly, I pull my hand back as he throws in the last dish, shutting the door of the washer after.

"Come on," he says to me motioning with his head towards the door. "I'll give you a ride home."

"Oh, no need," I tell him quickly. He's just starting to warm back up to me—I don't need any more reasons to jeopardize that. "I have my bike!"

He throws open the rusty front door. "It's a long ride back to your house. And it's dark," he explains stepping onto the porch. "I don't mind."

Staring up at him, the moon reflects in his brown eyes. I wouldn't mind staring at them a little longer, so I nod. Following him, I step into the tall grass heading towards his car parked on the street.

Piling in the passenger seat, Jack walks over to retrieve my bike from the grass before loading it up and hopping in next to me.

"My mom really likes you," he says pulling onto the road. "It's been a while since she's laughed like that."

A smile warms my face. "I really like her too."

And it's true. Kate was so welcoming and open—we spent the whole night sharing embarrassing childhood stories, mostly at Jack's expense. But he seemed to be a good sport about it.

"You two seem really close," I offer adjusting my seatbelt over my school uniform.

He nods slowly looking ahead at the street. "Yeah, it was always just the two of us, growing up."

"It must be really hard for you, then," I say to him in a soft tone. "Her being sick and all."

Through the soft glow of the moon flooding the car, I can make out Jack biting down onto his cheek. Maybe I'm overstepping, but I've never been good at minding my own business, so I carry on.

"Jack? Can I ask why she didn't seem to know you're at Wilcrest?" I ask scrunching my brows. It hadn't made much sense to me at the dinner table, and it still doesn't now.

The boy sighs, running a hand through his hair before placing it back onto the wheel. "I had been having some problems at school," he starts to explain. "I don't know—I guess her being sick, I just dealt with it wrong. I was kicked from like six schools in a year and a half."

My heart swells as I look down at my pale hands in my lap. If either my mom or dad were sick, I don't even know what I would do with myself.

"I started exhausting all the public schools around here," he continues on. "So, at my last one, mom told me if I got bounced, she was done. She threatened to send me half-way across the country to live with my grandparents."

I bite down on my lip. "So, when you did get kicked out of there, your aunt—"

"Pulled some strings at Wilcrest, yeah," he interjects. "I just couldn't leave her. Not right now."

Staring back at the side of his face, I take in the way his expression has fallen. For the first time, Jack Moody looks less of a God and more of a human to me.

"You're a good son," I say with a soft smile.

He shrugs shaking his head slightly. "I've caused her a lot of stress," he states staring straight ahead, eyes seeming to be somewhere else entirely. "That's why I've been trying to stay out of trouble at Wilcrest. It's my last hope—I fuck up here and I'm gone."

Guilt eats at me. Suddenly, I'm aware how much was at stake for him—and I almost ruined everything just because I'm a total dumbass.

"Well, I'm sorry I almost got you kicked out," I mumble into my lap.

"Not your fault, really," he says. "I shouldn't have blamed you. I was the one with the weed."

Picking at my nails I look back to him, and for a moment he turns his head to glance at me too. His eyes are soft again, filling me with a little hope that maybe all is not lost for us.

Maybe I'll never have Jack Moody and the happily ever after like I dreamed, but perhaps we could become friends. And that feels pretty good too.

"Oh, and could you maybe not tell anyone about this?" he asks turning back to the road.

My optimism deflates. Nope, he's embarrassed for anyone to know we were even together.

"It's just it feels like every eye in Wilcrest is already on me," he explains. "I don't need the dying parent sympathy eyes as well."

"Oh—" I say, feeling foolish to think everything is about me. "Yeah, sure thing."

And with that, Jack turns on the radio, flooding our tired minds with thumping music.