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Chapter Thirty-Five
Point of View: Nick

When I came out of the house two days later for the next drive with Zoe, she wasn't alone in the Prius. She was already in the passenger seat, turned back to talk to some guy sitting in the back. I walked tentatively toward the car, wondering what in the world I was getting myself into.

I pulled open the door and got in, having to hump the steering column again in order to push the seat back. "Would it kill you to push this thing back before you got out?" I asked her, struggling with it.

"Damn dude, you're tall," came the voice from the backseat.

Zoe glared back there, "Watch your mouth, George. And as for you," she turned back to Nick, "You need to be in the habit of adjusting everything. Did you do your outside check?"

I glanced at the kid she'd just called George. "I was distracted."

"Oh, sorry," Zoe waved at the backseat, "That's George. George, this is Nick. George is one of my students at the school," Zoe explained. "I noticed on his driving sheet that he's somehow managed to worm his way out of having done any observations so far in the class, and he therefore needs to catch up. He's going to be sitting in the backseat of the Prius for the next five hours."

I snickered, "Sucks to be you, dude." I would not want to be stuck in the car for five hours straight with Zoe. She was bad enough in small increments.

"At least I didn't have to screw the steering wheel," George replied.

"George, language, please," said Zoe as I felt my face turn red.

I couldn't seem to get the lever to pull up. I yanked it with all my might and finally goti it. The chair slid back super fast, though, and, as a result, konked George in the knees. "What the hell man!" cried George. He wriggled out from under the seat and moved to be behind Zoe.

"George!" Zoe's voice was firm.

"Careful, man, she'll make you get out," I warned, laughing.

"Nah, Ms. Sinclaire likes me too much to chuck me out," George answered. "Besides, where would I go? Into your sweet house here? What are you like a freaking millionaire?"

"You'd go into the trunk," answered Zoe, "And don't be rude," she added.

I laughed. He hadn't really seen me from a good angle to know who I was just yet. I opened the door and got out to do the outside check before Zoe felt the need to remind me to do it a second time. She seemed to be nicer when I remembered to do things without her reminding me. When I got around to the right wheel tire, George was staring out the window at me. His eyes lit up and he leaned forward and started talking to Zoe.

"You're a Backstreet Boy," he said when I got into the car, "You're that dude Ms. Sinclaire told us about in class -- that dude that wrapped his fucking Escalade around a tree."

"George," warned Zoe. It was weird hearing him refer to her as Ms. Sinclair. Somehow, it didn't really fit her.

I busied myself adjusting the mirrors instead of answering George.

"You're like my hero man," George said, his voice sarcastic.

Zoe turned in her seat, "Do you seriously want me to make you my trunk monkey?" she demanded. "Because that can be arranged." At that, George laughed, folded his arms and sat back, "That's better. Now shush back there." She turned to me. "He has a smart mouth," she said. She eyed me. "Sort of like someone else I know."

"My mouth isn't smart," I answered, "I say stupid things all the time." George snorted in appreciation in the backseat.

Zoe raised her eyebrow, "Ok, so note to self, George and Nick together equals hell for me, got it."

"How come you can swear?" called George from the backseat.

"I asked the same thing once," I answered.

Zoe growled. "Nick, just turn on the car, please."

I smirked and George laughed from the back. I hit the power button and the little Prius wheezed to life. Zoe took a deep breath as I shifted out of park and we started - slowly - rolling down the driveway.

"You're doing better already," Zoe remarked.

George, of course, had to pick up on that. "Driving down the driveway?" he asked, "Seriously? How did you mess that up before?" He was staring at me with amusement in his eyes. "Seriously. How?"

"He got the Prius up to 40 miles an hour before we got around the fountain," Zoe answered George. "I had to use the brake."

"And the first aid kit," he said, glaring at the driveway ahead of them. "I cracked my nose on the wheel."

"Awesome," mumbled George. "I didn't know the Prius could go 40 miles an hour," he joked.

We reached the end of the driveway and Zoe had us driving through the Los Angeles suburbs in no time. George was snickering in the back every time Zoe had to correct me on something. The worst was the part when she had to correct my left/right directional again. "Dude," George laughed, "You don't know left and right?"

"I hit it wrong, okay?!" I snapped, pointing at him, temper flaring.

"Okay boys, stop pissing all over each other, this isn't territory to claim," Zoe snapped. "You're left and I'm always right, Nick," she reminded me, "And you, in the backseat, who's the instructor? You or me?"

George aggravated me so much, I think, because ... well, he reminded me of myself when I was sixteen.

He shut up after Zoe had snapped at him, and didn't so much as snicker when Zoe said she was going to tie my hands to the wheel because I wasn't leaving them there. "I know how to steer the damn car!" I yelled, "And I've steered it for like fifteen years a particular way and haven't have problems yet!"

"Sorry, I thought that was you in the Escalade they pulled out of a tree," she growled.

The drive was just not going that good, and by the time we got back to my house, I was just glad to get the fuck out of the driver's seat. "Ta ta, Nicky," called George from the back seat, waving with the tips of his fingers. I slammed the door and started into the house.

"Nick," Zoe called. I stopped walking. I could hear her walking around the Prius to get into the driver's side. "I'm sorry, I won't have an observer again."

I turned around, "Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

"Okay," I answered as she got into the car. I sighed and watched as they pulled away.