“Come on, Desey. Look at it again, these things are good to know.”

I glanced up at the older man, tall—larger than life to me at that age—with smile lines and a beer belly. He was wearing glasses with a flashlight in his mouth, focusing on the side of his jeep… or, no, the wheels. Something was wrong with them, and I was pretty sure he’d figured it out—now he was just testing me.

I frowned at the man, crossing my arms and squinting at where he had his flashlight pointed. I wasn’t totally helpless—I was eight years old and learning, thank you very much, I knew some stuff—but I also wasn’t exactly an expert. My pride refused to admit that to my father, though.

“I don’t know. Is it the tires?” I asked him, because the top of one of the tires was lit up by the flashlight, and I noticed something he’d told me to watch out for. I couldn’t remember what it was called, but it was the way the flat bumps on the tires were seemingly filed down from being driven.

“Okay, there you go,” my dad had pride in his eyes, tone of voice rising at the end as if to urge me to continue further. When I didn’t, frowning mostly at my lack of vocabulary to explain what was going on, he continued. “What about the tires?”

I wanted to impress him, but I also needed a minute to investigate. I walked up to the tire, which had a height that landed somewhere about halfway up my chest. I squinted at the black rubber, the… tread? I was pretty sure that’s what it was called.

“The tread?” I decided to chance it, despite the fact that I wasn't fully certain what the word meant. Judging by the way his smile widened, skin around his eyes crinkling in pride, I was correct once again. I resisted the urge to act as proud of myself as I was, though, in hopes of making it seem as though it was no big deal. Of course I knew that! Happens all the time.

“There you go, kid,” he addressed endearingly, ruffling the dirty blond hair on my head, which was getting too long. My mother reminded me of the fact we needed to get it trimmed at least once a week, but I liked the length. I guess it was almost summer, though…

“The wear on the tread is uneven. Do you remember what that might mean?”

I didn’t.

I was stumped, and I was mad about it. I knew he’d taught me something about this, but I couldn’t remember what. He was always teaching me things about all kinds of different topics and skills. Basic construction and how to use tools, cars, yard work, you name it. He wanted to make sure I knew it.

Right then, the door to the garage opened. A woman stepped in with hair just a shade lighter than mine, warm brown eyes scanning over the various vehicle parts and tools scattered about to locate me. She was unable to, since I was on the other side of the vehicle.

“Where’s Des?” She asked, frowning and glancing around. I was reluctant to make my appearance known, because I knew from her attire what this meant. I couldn’t help my dad anymore, I had somewhere to be.

I peeked out from the other side, and her eyes landed on my bright hazel immediately. My dad chuckled, finding something comical about the situation. The woman’s expression softened, cocking her hip, dress pants shifting. She looked at me in fake exasperation, knowing there was an argument coming.

“Come on, Desey, you have choir practice in thirty minutes.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy choir or something. I loved singing, I just loved hanging out with my dad more. The man worked a lot, and even if it was from home, I loved it when he gave me attention. When he took a break. I knew I wouldn’t get this opportunity again, not until he finished his work for the day, which he would likely start on right after we left. I didn’t like the uncertainty.

“But mom, he was just about to tell me—”

“The alignment is off,” she answered the question immediately, resulting in both me and my dad groaning since she ruined the fun and now I had to go with her. I pushed myself off the vehicle with a huff, rounding it and stomping over to her, crossing my arms and glaring at nothing. She just sighed, straightening out my clothes and fixing my hair.

Of course, my dad ruined it a moment later by picking me up and pretending to be a monster, attempting to eat my stomach and my neck. I started giggling immediately, making fake noises of protest and pain while my mom couldn’t help the smile settling on her face. She looked at the both of us with love, fondness in her eyes. Once the man decided to release me, I was slightly dizzy. He righted me, but I was grinning the whole time.

“Are you ready, now?” My mother asked me, slapping my dad on the bicep and giving me a look of expectation.

I knew better than to say no, looking up at her warm brown eyes, holding out her hand and waiting patiently for me to take it.

“Let’s go, Desey.”

I reached out to do so.

Then—

Desey.

Des.

“Des, come on! Des, wake up!”

Just like that, the garage disappeared. My father’s voice faded out, my mother disappeared.

Her eyes didn’t, though. That warmth and kindness and love, that purity was still intact. It was just on a new face, in the present.

Winter continues to shake me, despite the fact I am obviously now awake. I groan, covering my face with my hands and rolling over.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on, wake up! I talked to him—he said yes!”

Huh?

I don’t have time for this. The last fucking thing I want to do right now is go anywhere, which is what it sounds like she’s urging me to do. I’d prefer to just rot until my skin merges with the fabric of the bedsheets and I can’t be removed without risk of a fatal injury.

Hang on a second. Did she just say she talked to him? Him, as in…

My eyes shoot open, and I turn my head to look at her so quickly I almost strain it. Is she talking about Vaughn? Saying yes to me working in his shop? She has to be joking. He was supposed to say no! I don’t want to work on fucking cars right now, not ever, not after that. Not unless it’s the alignment.

Winter is leaning over me, having gotten inside my apartment with her spare key I assume. She’s beaming, eyes unmoving from my face, and I notice the mother raccoon behind her glaring and holding a pack of tissues that I’m pretty sure belongs to Winter in a death grip.

No way she already talked to him. We had that conversation yesterday! Also, why did she come here to tell me? Actually—

No, how did she get here in the first place? She can’t drive, she doesn’t have a car. She has a permit and I think she plans on getting her license soon but living so deep in the city tends to tank the necessity of that.

No way Vaughn dropped her off, not after everything. He doesn’t want me anywhere near her! Was… was she that upset? That persuasive?

“Come on, get ready! My dad’s waiting outside. We only have a month, we can’t waste time. I wanted to go with you on your first day because—”

He’s waiting outside?

“I’m gonna fucking kill myself.”

Honestly, I did not mean to say that. It slips out purely from the mentions of her dad and waiting outside and how shitty this day is gonna be, already off to a great fucking start. Her eyebrows raise, puzzled briefly, before she’s rolling them. Her eyelashes flutter as she does so in a way that gives me the idea she thinks I’m being dramatic. I probably am, to her.

Not to me, though. Every interaction I have with Vaughn drives me further and further towards a mental break, and I’ve been confronted with that man far too much recently. I wish I hated it.

“Stop it,” she scolds. I sigh, beginning to sit up, the girl shifting off of me. I glance around, finding that the sun is only just rising. What time is it? I’m curious enough to pick up my phone and check right away, finding that it’s not even 7 AM yet. How on earth is she so happy? So chipper and awake?

I guess it is Sunday. She doesn’t have school. Wouldn’t she want to sleep in, though? Actually, wouldn’t Vaughn be going to church or something? Eh, probably not. I’ve never heard of him doing that before, especially since his shop is open seven days a week. I wonder how he feels about that.

Winter makes sense, though. She’s wanted her father to approve of me since the very beginning. Now that she appears to have given herself some hope, she’s ecstatic. I sigh, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and watching Winter stand up.

Offering her hand to me.

I think of the dream. No, the memory, but once the emptiness starts to set in I push it as far as possible to the back of my mind.

I take her hand, standing and walking over to my kitchen cabinet, which is where I’m storing my new clothes. It’s not like I’m using it for dishes or food or any other kitchen necessities, the only food I ever have seems to be expired constantly. I grab a shirt and pants and begin to change, not even thinking about my privacy. Winter doesn’t care, she’s laying on my bed starfish style now. I think she’s looking at my car posters on the ceiling. I thought we needed to leave?

“I’m not gonna be there the whole day, though. I need you to cover for me, Pierce is picking me up for a date but I told my dad it was one of my classmates. Jess.”

Oh my god, I just want to go back to bed.

Wait, Pierce is taking her on a date? That incompetent prick who can’t even hold his own against a few Westbelt racers? Who can’t even beat me in a race if I’m trying, despite the fact that a couple of his cars actually have more horsepower than mine?

And she’s asking me to cover for her, since her dad can’t know. Nothing crazy, honestly, but I still feel the urge to do yoga in a hydraulic press. This is the worst possible way I could’ve started my day. Okay, not actually, I just have a pit in my stomach that won’t go away. A feeling that this won’t end well. Not even just proving myself—today won’t go well. I know it for a fact, I can’t do new situations without everything going wrong in some way.

I can’t tell if it’ll be better or worse with Winter there.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” I ask her as I begin to brush my teeth. I don’t even think she heard me, so I’m surprised when she responds.

“Because I only convinced him this morning.”

Wait, what? Again, it’s not even 7 AM. How long ago—seriously, why on earth did he say yes? That’s such short notice, Winter really wasn’t kidding about not wasting time. When would she have even approached him? How long has she been awake?

Or, more importantly, how much convincing did Vaughn need?

In the end I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a graphic on it that is borderline incomprehensible but includes some form of cat creature. I slip on my sneakers, applying my eyeliner and switching out my jewelry and everything. By the time I’m done, I honestly look more presentable than I have in weeks.

I need to be optimistic, anyway. This is clearly important to her, and for good reason.

Maybe today won’t be so bad.