Sister City

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

It was a freezing cold Friday afternoon just before Thanksgiving nearly two years later. I was waiting for James to pick me up from practice; huddling outside the entrance to the gym under the overhang, trying to keep dry. James pulled up in his new car; an eighteen year old Honda Civic hatchback. The door opened and an arm beckoned me to get in.

“You couldn’t have driven the Durango?” I bellowed as I dashed to the car.

“I came from practice,” James hollered back.

I made it to the car, just short of sopping wet, and squeezed into the backseat ending up with Luka’s knee in my ribs.

“I see. You couldn’t have taken the Durango to school today?”

“I wanted to drive my car,” James retorted stubbornly.

“Of course. It makes perfect sense to try and cram all of us in here instead. It’s not illegal or anything.”

“Just sit on Luka’s lap and be quiet,” James demanded.

“There’s only half a lap available, but fine, whatever.” I looked to my left and saw several people I knew. “Hey, Trisha.” I waved at her, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap. “Hey, Oli.” He nodded; his hands were busy being Trisha’s seat belt. “Hi Sophie. Megan,” I acknowledged Marcus and Luka’s girlfriends. Sophie was sitting on Marcus’ left leg; Megan was straddling Marcus’ right leg and Luka’s left leg. That left me in an embarrassingly uncomfortable position on Luka’s right leg. Being the girlfriend of the driver had its perks. Monica was sitting in the front seat enjoying not being folded into a small square.

“One last stop and then we’re heading home,” James announced.

“Are they riding in the trunk?” Luka demanded. “There’s no room back here!”

“Shut up,” James said furiously. “You can walk, you know.”

“Shutting up now.”

We pulled up at a strange house a few blocks from Fircrest Market. James laid on the horn and within minutes Phaedra trotted out of the house, trying not to lose any pieces off her replica of the Mission San Juan Capistrano.

“There’s nowhere for that thing,” Luka bellowed. “Are you a complete idiot, James? We had to pass the house to get here. You could have dropped us all off and gone to get her with an empty freaking car.”

“We’re here now,” Megan said sensibly. “Let’s just figure it out before the rain ruins her project.”

“Oh. I know,” Trisha said. “Megs trade places with Rin.”

“What will that accomplish?” I asked.

“That puts you on Marcus’ other leg and Megs and Phaedra on Luka’s legs. Monica can hold Mission San Juan Bautista. Problem solved.” Trisha nodded her head in satisfaction.

“It’s Mission San Juan Capistrano, not San Juan Bautista,” Phaedra shrieked.

“San Juan whatever,” I said nastily as I climbed over Megan and settled myself on Marcus’ knee. “Who cares about your stupid Mission? Just get in the car.”

“What’s up your butt?” Sophie asked.

“Nothing.”

I thought, she of all people, would be weirded out by sharing her boyfriend’s lap with another girl. Apparently not. A rush of sadness hit me like a two hundred and thirty pound linebacker. Of course she was okay with me sitting on Marcus’ lap. I wasn’t a threat. Who would want to date me? I’ll answer that for you. Nobody. Nobody wants to date a short, scrawny, brainiac with large, muscular thighs and no breasts to speak of.