My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

I hit him playfully on his upper arm, laughing as well. "Not funny."

" Hey, don't harass the driver, these roads take serious navigation."

" I'm sure they do. I don't know how I'll be able to drive here. I am used to big open highways."

" Yeah, but consider this, would you really and honestly, deep from the bottom of your heart, ever want to trade this scenic drive for a four-lane highway?"

" I suppose not." Amused, I ask him, "You like David Gray?"

He glances at me, outwardly unsure of himself. "I do. Does that seem weird?"

Smiling, I say, "No." Yet truthfully, it does seem funny. I do not know many people my age who like David Gray - more often than not we are into the popular music of the day.

This is the most words he has spoken to me the entire evening.

While we drive, I mostly look out of the window to my side, at the trees flashing by and listening to the music. It feels pleasantly comfortable.

We turn off into the drive to my manor, and I tell Jared, "An artwork in progress, according to my dad." When speaking to people who did not know me I always refer to Sean as my dad, it makes for less explaining.

He stops the car in front of the embarrassing building and turns in his seat, looking at me concerned. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you to the door?"

" No thanks," I insist.

" Okay, go before your dad comes out here with a shotgun. You know they are illegal in this part of the world, right?" He jokes.

I open the door and start to get out, but then, hesitating, I turn toward him awkwardly and start to take off his jacket.

" No, you can give it to me at school. I wouldn't want you catching a cold and not be at school tomorrow. I'll miss you terribly."

Yes!

As I get out of the car, he leans across the seat I just vacated. "It was really nice to eventually meet you, Elizabeth."

I smile and say, "Bye," while closing the door, wondering if he is just being overly polite and what he possibly means with 'eventually meeting me'.

Walking past the front of his car, I wave again. He waves back, smiling absent-mindedly.

When I walk through my red front door, I turn back to wave once more, but he is already driving away, so I close the door behind me.

Nerves start to bundle into a knot in my stomach.

My mom and Sean are in the lounge and I can hear their soft murmurs from the hall. Every now and again, my mom's voice gets a higher pitch of anxiety.