This Girl: A Novel

burp a lot and boss me around and steal my coffee and sing to her really bad music and leave her bra in my car.”
    Or hopefully she will.
    Kel walks past me into the house. “Good luck,” he says, his voice full of pity. I laugh and shut the door behind me. I’m halfway to my car when Lake opens her front door and walks to the driveway.
    “You ready?” I yell to her.
    “Yes,” she yells back.
    I wait for her to walk to my car, but she doesn’t. She looks ready. Why is she just standing there?
    “Well, come on then!” I yell.
    She still doesn’t move. She folds her arms across her chest and stands still. I throw my hand up in defeat and laugh. “What are you doing?”
    “You said you would pick me up at seven-thirty,” she yells. “I’m waiting for you to pick me up.”
    I grin and get in the car, then back up into her driveway. When I get out and open her door, I notice she’s not wearing the house shoes. I was sort of hoping she was serious this morning. It’s not quite dark yet, which is unfortunate since I can’t stop staring at her. She curled her hair and put on just a touch of makeup. She’s wearing jeans and a purple shirt that brings out the hue of her eyes, making them even harder to look away from. She looks . . . perfect.
    Once we’re both in the car, I reach behind me and grab the bag out of the backseat. “We don’t have time to eat, so I made us grilled cheese.” I hand her the sandwich and a drink. I’m hoping she’s not too upset that we aren’t going out to eat. We just don’t have time. I almost went to her house earlier to let her know we weren’t, in case she didn’t eat, but I decided to throw something together at the last minute instead. I sort of wanted to see how she’d react to not being taken on a typical date. Maybe it’s a little mean, but she’s smiling, so she doesn’t seem to mind.
    “Wow. This is a first.” She puts her sandwich on her knee and twists open her soda. “And where exactly are we going in such a hurry? It’s obviously not a restaurant.”
    I take a bite of my sandwich and pull out of her driveway. “It’s a surprise. I know a lot more about you than you know about me, so tonight I want to show you what I’m all about.”
    She grins at me. “Well, I’m intrigued,” she says before she takes a bite of her sandwich.
    I’m relieved she doesn’t press me further about where we’re going. It would be sort of hard to explain that I’m taking her to a club on a Thursday night to watch a bunch of people recite poetry. It doesn’t sound near as appealing as it actually is. I’d rather let her experience it for the first time in person without having preconceived notions.
    When we finish our sandwiches, she puts the trash in the backseat and shifts in her seat so that she’s facing me. She casually rests her head against the headrest. “What are your parents like?”
    I glance out my window, not wanting her to see the reluctance in my expression. It’s the exact thing I was hoping she wouldn’t ask about until the drive home, at least. I’d hate for this to be the first thing we talk about. It would put a somber mood to the whole night. I take a deep breath and exhale, hoping I’m not appearing as uncomfortable on the outside as I’m feeling on the inside.
    How the hell can I redirect this conversation?
    I decide to play the game Caulder and I play sometimes on the drive to our grandparents. I hope she won’t think it’s too cheesy, but it’ll pass the time and may even help me get to know her better.
    “I’m not big on small talk, Lake. We can figure all that out later. Let’s make this drive interesting.” I adjust myself in the seat and prepare to explain the rules to her. When I turn to look at her, she’s staring at me with a repulsed look on her face.
    What the hell did I say? I replay my last sentence in my head and realize how it sounded. I laugh when it dawns on me that she completely misconstrued what I just said. “Lake, no! I just meant let’s talk about something besides what we’re expected to talk about.”
    She expels a breath and laughs. “Good,” she says.
    “I know a game we can play. It’s called, ‘would you rather.’ Have you played it before?”
    She shakes her head. “No, but I would rather you go first.”
    I feel like if I use some of the ones Caulder and I have used it would be cheating, so I take a few seconds to think of a new one. “Okay,” I say when I come up with one. I