Soda's Only

Chapter Three

It's dawn when I walk inside the DX, it's deserted. No girls crowding the cash register, and no noise. I hop over the counter and poke my head inside the garage, expecting to see at least Steve. But no one is there. I guess Soda didn't mean for me to be this early. I almost consider leaving, when I realize I could take this time to get familiarized with all the tools. Or at least some of the basic ones.

I tie a bandanna in my hair, holding it back out of my face, and take off my flannel, draping it over the BMW. Now I'm in a white tank-top, jeans, and boots. Perfect outfit for working on cars, right?

It's bright outside when the door opens to the DX. I hear footsteps approaching the garage and turn around to see Steve. He's staring at me with shock. He then looks me up and down and notices a wrench in my hand.

"What the hell?" He muttered, probably to himself.

Just then Soda enters the room and stops dead when his eyes land on me. He then grins when he sees the wrench in my hand. "Aw, ya came early just for the tools?"

I feel a bit relieved when he breaks the silence, and I nod with a smirk. "I thought I might as well get used to them," I explain, searching for Steve's reaction. He meets my gaze then suddenly, as if a barrier has been broken, gives a small chuckle.

"That's definitely different," he's showing his teeth in a broad smile now. "So are you genuinely interested in tools and cars, or....?"

I shrug. "I guess some part of me has all my life," I explain as Soda makes his way toward me. "Then when Soda showed me around this garage...somethin' sparked inside me. I love vehicles, anyway."

Sodapop walks up to a toolbox that sits in one of the corners of the garage. "This is my toolbox. That's Steve's," he points to the one by the BMW's side. "You can have one as well, if you'd like."

My heart fluttered excitedly. "Actually?"

Soda smiled, seeing my eagerness. "Actually. We'll take it out back and begin working on your truck now. We have a long day ahead of us."

When everything is ready and in place at the back of the DX, Soda begins to tell me things he knows about trucks. He rolls something toward me and pats it. It's cushioned.

"You lay down on your back and roll under the truck," Soda explained when I looked at him with a confused expression. 

When he joined me under the truck with his bed-like thing, he began explaining what was wrong with the truck. I listen attentively. This is valuable information that could potentially save my life one day. And it's free. Who was I to turn it down?

When he finished explaining what was wrong with the truck, we rolled out from under it and grabbed some supplies from the toolbox. It was not a lot, surprisingly. From what he explained to me, I would've expected a ton of toolboxes to fix my truck up. But he insisted this was all.

A few hours later, I was covered in oil, sweat, and blood. I was exhausted. But I didn't mind. I liked working on cars. I think I'm pretty good at it, actually. And when I asked Soda on a five-minute break, he nodded immediately and replied, "For a girl," with a laugh. I whack him sharply.

Steve shows up unexpectedly, spotting me hitting Soda. He lets out a laugh and tosses the two of us a cold coke. "Workin' hard?"

"I think so," I reply, taking a long swig from the can. I wipe my lips with my sweaty arm. "I think I might actually like the feel of oil on me." I say with a smirk.

"She's surprisingly great at this," Soda pipes up, nudging my arm softly. "Maybe this should be your job. The pay is good, and you'd have me and Steve to keep ya company." He winks at Steve.

I consider this. I could do with some money. I was sixteen. It could work. "How do I apply?"

Soda's eyes widened. "What?"

"To work here. How do I apply?" I repeat.

Steve chuckled. "You want to do this?" 

"Don't you have school?" Soda grabs a rag and wipes his hands, staring at me expectantly.

"Yeah," I tell him, disgusted that it was true. I hate school. "But I can drop out-"

"Don't," Sodapop interrupted unexpectedly. "Don't drop out."

The silence that came after his words are not welcoming. Anger surged inside me and I narrowed my eyes at Soda. "Why not?"

He blinked at me sadly. "Because I did," he then dropped his rag on the ground, grabbed his coke, and started walking away. "And I regret it sometimes."

Steve was scowling, following his friend that disappeared inside the DX. I was left alone by my truck. It felt weird. I usually liked being by myself. But when Soda left, it felt...odd. The wind picked up, and I was shivering, even though it was the middle of summer.

I considered going into the DX to say sorry for my question, when suddenly I halted myself. No, I couldn't. I was falling into a trap. The trap of friendship. I held myself back, kicking at the rag Soda dropped. I was angry at myself. How dare he tell me what to do, and I'm the one feeling sorry. 

You know what? I told myself, I don't need this. I don't need Soda, Steve, or their help. I could help myself. I began storming off, throwing my coke on the ground as I went. I was hungry. I want to go to Dairy Queen. So I did. Then I stopped as I remembered my flannel inside the DX. Ugh.

I stormed into the garage, past Steve and Soda who were washing their hands in a sink, grabbed my flannel, threw it on, and stormed back out. I heard Soda call my name, but I ignored him.

It wasn't until I felt someone tug on my arm that I stopped and whirled around, ready to defend myself. I was about to grab my blade when I noticed it was Soda. For some reason seeing him made me hesitate.

"Lilly, I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand still on my arm. he was gazing into my eyes, looking for an apology. "I didn't mean to make you upset, honest. It just rubbed me the wrong way when you told me you'd drop out of school."

I yanked my arm free, scowling. "You have no right to tell me what to do with my life," I spat. "Why do you even care? I'm just some broad that's botherin' you."

Soda cracked a small grin. "Well, I thought we were friends. And besides, you were only botherin' Steve. But now he's a fan of yours too."

The word "friends" catches me off guard. "Friends?"

He nods, tipping his head to one side in confusion. "What, do you not know the word?" He began to chuckle, but when I didn't budge, he immediately stopped.

"I...I...need to go." Was all I could stammer before I fled.