The Forever of Ella and Micha

up.”
    Caroline smiles as she covers the pan with a lid. “He’s been seeing someone about his anger issues.”
    My eyes dart back to Dean, waiting for him to snap at her, but he just shrugs and grabs another cob on the corn that needs to be shucked.
    “We’ll cook dinner.” Caroline signals for Dean to add something.
    He lets out a frustrated breath. “You should go out and do something fun. Be a kid for a change or whatever. We’ll get things ready for when dad arrives.”
    “How is he even getting here?” I ask, setting the spoon down on the counter. “He doesn’t have a car.”
    “His counselor is dropping him off,” Caroline explains, plugging in the mixer. “I guess he lives about an hour away from here.”
    She starts to hum as she mixes some orange stuff in a bowl. Dean focuses on the corn and I stand there unsure of what to do with myself. Finally I glance at Micha for help.
    “We could go out to Back Road and spin some doughnuts,” he suggest, setting the butter down on the counter.
    “Your car’s not made to spin doughnuts,” I say as he walks toward me. “Hence the last time we got stuck.”
    “I got chains we can put on it if it gets stuck.” He steals a marshmallow out of an open bag on the counter. “Besides I need a few dents in that tainted car to make it whole again.” He tosses a marshmallow at me and I open my mouth to catch it, but it pegs me in the forehead.
    “But I love your car.” I pick up the marshmallow and toss it into the trash. “I don’t want to see it ruined.”
    “I loathe it now,” he annunciates. “My father has officially tainted it.”
    “If you want to ruin it,” Dean chimes in, “there’s a sledge hammer in the garage.”
    “That’s okay,” Micha replies in a clipped tone as he snatches the bag of marshmallows and tugs me toward the door. Micha has never liked Dean very much. “I got another idea.”
    I grab my jacket off the door hanger and giggle as he hauls me toward the fence. He hops over it effortlessly, and then he picks me up by the waist and lifts me over easily.
    “What’s your big idea?” I say breathlessly as he leads us toward the garage and snow fills my shoes. “Running it into a wall, racing it until the engine explodes?”
    He lets out his evil villain laugh as he opens the garage door. “We’re going to spin doughnuts dangerous style.”
    I shake my head quickly. “No way. Last time, I almost got a concussion when you rammed the snowbank.”
    “Well, you better man up.” He opens up the passenger door for me. “Because it’s gonna get intense.”
    I duck my head into the cab and drop into the seat. “I don’t man up. I’m a dainty little girl.”
    He snorts a sharp laugh. “Okay, if you say so.”
    He slams the door and circles the front of the car. His gaze fleetingly lands on the twelve pack nestled on the shelf between the toolbox and oil. When he spots me looking at him, he grins and gets in the car, pushing the garage door opener latched onto the visor. Punching the gas, he peels out down the driveway, skidding from left to right and fishtailing it when we hit the icy road.
    “Can you do me a favor?” I ask as he cranks the wheel.
    “I’ll do anything you want,” he answers straitening out the car.
    “Can you try not to kill us?” I say, cranking up the heat. “Now that we’ve started planning a future, I kind of want to have one.”

    Ethan and Lila follow us up to Back Road in Ethan’s truck. The sky is cloudy but silent from the snow drifting to the ground. About halfway up to the old racing spot. Micha has to get out and put the chains on the tires. Watching him bend over and get them on is very entertaining because his pants keep slipping down on his hips. When he catches me checking him out, he winks at me and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. I turn in my seat, smiling to myself.
    After we make it to the end of the road, Micha gets out and takes the chains back off so we can “spin doughnuts dangerous style,” as he put it. Ethan parks his truck near a snowbank and Lila and he climb into the car with us. The area in front of us is open and packed with snow. Icicles hang from the branches of the trees that border around us and the roof of The Hitch, a rundown brick building that was once a restaurant, has caved in.
    With his hand on the steering wheel and his eyes locked ahead, Micha pumps the gas and a cloud of smoke puffs out the exhaust. The tires spin and I cover my eyes with my