I walked out the door, my school bag flung over my shoulder, toward Paige’s car. We’d decided to start carpooling to save money on gas. I hunched over to slide into the bug, a car I really didn’t like and had suggested several times to replace. Whenever I raised these suggestions, I was met by an icy stare.
As a result, we typically took my 1994 Toyota 4Runner. Nice, large, SUV . Much better than this ridiculous little bug. As I attached my seatbelt, I noticed the dice hanging from the rear-view mirror.
“Nice,” I commented sarcastically.
“Yeah,” she said, “Present from Cousin James.”
Paige’s Christmas presents had been trickling in all January. “Got anything else?” I asked.
“Yup,” she nodded, turning right in her careful, overcautious manor. Her driving used to annoy me, but I’d gotten used to it by now. “Aunt Rose sent a book on Teenage Angst. Probably her idea of a joke.” Paige made a face.
Since her family had discovered belatedly of her move, she’d been accosted by phone calls from worried relatives.