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thing I didn’t mind spending time on my hair. And I actually enjoyed shopping so it wasn’t a total loss.
    Worse than being invisible next to my car were the moronic questions that followed once I actually started to come into their focus again. They had ridiculous questions about the engine, tires, and always something about quad headlights. The best I could do was to tell them that it was a perfectly restored, Candy Apple Red, ‘69 Mustang convertible.
    More often than not I’d park the car and make a run for it. However, today was the first day of school for everyone. Not just the new girl. So darting unnoticed into the school was not the case. The parking lot was already full. Students were milling around. I had to wait to park.
    Once I did, Hailey in her long black flowing skirt, double layered black tank tops and chunky-heeled black sandals came running up to me. Her black hair was so shiny I had to squint from the glare the morning sun cast on it. I noticed she was wearing a candy necklace and a big red Ring Pop was on her middle finger.
    “ Oh !” she squealed. “I didn’t know you had a convertible! I want one so bad!” She faltered a bit as she made a more thorough assessment. “It’s really, really old isn’t it?” she added distastefully as the smile fell from her face.
    “I guess you could say that,” I managed.
    It was also Trey’s. That’s why I drove it. It was the one connection that I had to my brother. Remy and I were far apart enough in age to not drive each other crazy. However to Trey, I had been like the gum on the bottom of his shoe that he couldn’t scrape away. Including the day that he and Dad went to look at the Mustang. I was only nine and had to tag along. That day the car looked like it belonged in the junkyard Dad found it in. But Dad and Trey spent the next two years restoring it. By the time they were done, it was pristine. It was a good thing Trey got to drive it a few times while he had his learner’s permit because he died three months before he got his license.
    Sometimes I wonder just what he’d think if he knew that I was the one that got to drive his prized car. It made me smile because I knew he loved me…Even if he never did get around to saying it…Or even showing it. And some days, when I remember how he used to pin me to the ground and then dangle spit loogies in my face, I dream of painting the car Pepto-Bismal pink. Of course not out of spite, I just think it would make it pretty.
    “Is this yours?” Phoebe asked as she walked up with Olivia.
    “I love the color!” Olivia said before I could reply.
    “Uh-huh,” I answered to both as I tried to discreetly move us away from the car. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” They started to follow but we didn’t get far.
    Within a few feet, the inevitable wave of testosterone began to close in. I tried to tug my friends along. I didn’t have much luck. The guy-flock corralled us and we were trapped.
    As always, there’s at least one car junkie in every group. This time it was a guy with mussed up dark brown hair that was gelled to perfection. He had hazel eyes and teeth as perfect as mine. Meaning at one time he’d had a mouth full of metal, too.
    “Is this baby yours?” he asked.
    “Yup, sure is,” I admitted. I blew out a sigh of defeat. I hung my head down to peek at my pedicure. My expertly filed, carefully painted toenails looked pretty sticking out from my new pink flip-flops.
    “Wow!” he bypassed me to circle the car. “Bucket seats…dual exhaust with two chamber performance mufflers…Magnum 500 wheels…in original Candy Apple Red! This car is sweet!”
    I nodded and faked a yawn. I was hoping he’d take the hint, which they never did. I fidgeted with a lock of my hair, wrapping a ringlet round and round my perfectly shaped Sizzlin’ Berry tipped pointer finger. Aside from the obvious color of my car, he’d lost me after bucket seats.
    Several other guys from the flock were now