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Gavin is a terrible driver. He sped down the hill from Aspen’s house trying to make the light, which he missed anyways and ended up with the nose of the car sticking out in the intersection. He swore and flicked the volume up louder. Some angry kid screamed while the guitarist pumped out discordant noise.

            “You know, the stop lights are there for a reason,” I said.

            “Sure, to ruin all my fun.” He ruffled his already messy hair and slumped forward onto the dashboard. “No one’s even coming this way!” he whined.

            I smiled. The light turned green while he was having his hissy fit. “You can go now.”

            He gunned it, throwing me against the seat.

            The streets were pleasantly unoccupied for a Sunday afternoon. A homeless guy in purple sweatpants with the scraggly beard lurked in the doorway of a sandwich shop, hunched over against the wind. I glanced up at the thick clouds. This was going to be enjoyable in a hoodie.

            Gavin parked on Superior Street and we wandered under the skyway. Despite having tied my hood under my chin it kept slipping off. My hair whipped into my face, stabbing me in the eyes. He noticed my struggle and laughed.

            “Don’t you have any of those binder thingies?” he asked.

            “I don’t believe in ponytails,” I told him. “They’re so jock-girl. I’m not into that.”

            “That doesn’t mean you can’t put your hair up. That’s just dumb.”

            I pulled my hood up again and held it tight to my face. We ducked into a shop to warm up.

            He rubbed his hands and blew on them. “This sucks. It’s cold.”

            “Yeah.” After a few minutes we ventured back out to his car.

            “Your being grounded really fucked up the band,” he said as we walked.

            “Who cares?” I kicked a pebble along the sidewalk. It hit the curb and bounced over the red stones laid into the road. “It’s not like we’re ever going to make it big.”

            “You were obsessed with it all summer!”

            I shrugged. “I’m obsessed with other things now.”

            “Like what? And don’t go all ‘like you, stud’ on me. That’d be lame.”

            “You have the fattest ego ever. And no, I meant, like, sushi.”

            He slowed and raised his eyebrows. “Sushi?”

            “Yeah, and Harajuku style, anime, manga books, pretty much any Japanese pop culture crap.” I had a lot of free time during my parental induced house arrest, which meant a lot of time to submit to the awesome power of Google.

            His stride lengthened to catch up with me. “Sushi?” he repeated.

            “Yes, Gavin, sushi. It’s not Asian Kama sutra if that’s what you’re getting so worked up over.”

            “I’m not retarded, I know what it is,” he huffed. He opened my door and pushed me in, smirking. “Wouldn’t that be hot, though?”

            “Like so hot.” My fake enthusiasm was almost believable.

            He drove to Enger Tower Park near the other edge of town. I hated the change in altitude; it made my ears pop over and over. There wasn’t much left of the surrounding gardens but the red and orange leaves scattered everywhere were pretty if you cared to appreciate that nonsense. I was much more interested with how the city was laid out under us. He followed me up the trail. “PJ, you are too cool sometimes,” Gavin muttered. “It trips me out.”

            That was unexpected. I couldn’t think of anything cool to respond with, so I let his comment float in between us for a moment.

            “Do you wanna go make out in the gazebo?” he asked.

            He is so the dude for me.

I got home around 5:30, hoping to sneak some munchies and hide out in my room for the rest of the night. That didn’t go so well.

            Alexis was screaming her face off upstairs: “not fair,” “everyone else can,” etc. Typical preteen melodrama.

            “Well, I’m sorry if I don’t want my daughter looking like a slut!” my mom yelled. The door slammed shut about a half second after that. She started down the stairs and I kicked off my shoes frantically.

            “Jane, I know you’re down there. Don’t try to sneak off.” She stopped on the second to last stair and planted her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” Before I could mumble an excuse about allergies, which I didn’t even have, she raised her hand up to stop me. “Never mind, I don’t want to know!” She motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen. “What is this?”

            I glanced at the post-it note she had pinched between her fingers. “Um, my note to you…?”

            “Sleeping over at Aspens. Be home later. Love PJ,” she read and then glared at me.

            “I don’t know why you’re mad,” I admitted.

            “I called Aspen at three this afternoon because you hadn’t come home and weren’t answering your cell phone.” Right. I’d forgotten to turn that on. “She said you’d left but that she didn’t know where you went.”

            I tried to quit squinting long enough to do my innocent face. She examined my eyes again and sighed, pulling her fingers through her bangs. “Just because you’re not grounded anymore doesn’t mean you can go wherever you please without telling someone,” she continued, softer now. “I was worried about you. I am worried about you.”

            “Sorry.”

            There was a crash, a shriek, and stomping from above our heads.

            My mom crumpled up the post-it note and dropped it in the garbage can. “I need you to talk to your sister. She thinks she wants her bellybutton pierced because one of her little friends got hers done.”

            I thought that over for a minute. It was slutty, especially for a 13-year-old, but should I really be giving advice as baked as I was? Probably not.

            I shook my head.

            “Do I have to do everything around here?” she grumbled and stormed away.

            I dodged that bullet, sort of. She’d no doubt come back to give me a real lecture or possibly involve my father who would report me to authorities or some heinous thing. I didn’t want to imagine that. I dug through the cupboards for a box of granola bars and headed to the basement.