𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨

Chapter Fifteen

Y/N

It takes us several more hours to gather up and install the last of what Jennie thinks we need to make the truck actually run.

I'm not much help with putting the stuff in place - zombie fingers and all - so I spend most of my time just watching Jennie.

She is so graceful. Every move she makes has a purpose and a direction, but she moves so fluidly. I wonder if she used to be a dancer before but I'm too shy to ask.

Jennie talks a lot too while she's working. About everything. In a matter of minutes I know her favourite colour and song and movie, the top five cities she wanted to visit before, and the foods she misses most.

It's the talk about her past that hits me hardest though.

She tells me about foster homes that she lived in, about temporary families that treated her badly and poor living conditions. One particular story is the worst: a foster father with a thing for little girls. She was sent back to the orphanage after stabbing him in the neck with a pair of scissors to save another girl from his wandering hands.

Most of the homes were better than that, but only just. None of these stories are happy and they all end in her returning to the orphanage.

"I don't miss those years at all," Jennie says from her place beneath the dash where she's replacing the fuses, I think. "My eighteenth birthday was the happiest day of my life. I was so glad to finally be free. That I didn't have to go where people told me to and I could finally choose for myself. Of course then all this happened and all of my plans went down the shitter."

Jennie climbs out from under the dash and grins. "Okay, I think this thing's ready to go," she says and pats the steering wheel. "Should we try her?"

When I nod Jennie plants herself in the driver's seat and then pats the other side of the bench. "C'mon then."

I walk around to the passenger side and open the door - first try, go me! - and awkwardly climb up next to her.

Jennie shuts her door and then reaches for the keys that are still sitting in the ignition - clearly whoever owned it took off in a hurry.

The engine whines and sputters several times and Jennie curses. "Come on, baby," she says and tries again.

"C'mon b-baby," I echo, rubbing the dashboard affectionately.

Jennie laughs as she twists the keys again. The engine clicks, groans, and then miraculously it stutters to life. I can feel it vibrating through the whole truck as the ancient engine chugs, a bass thumping noise reverberating inside of the cab.

It takes a second before the sporadic thrumming finally settles into a steady rhythm.

"Yes!" Jennie cheers eagerly, throwing her hands in the air. "We did it, Y/N!"

I close my eyes and listen to the rolling of the engine, patterned like a heartbeat. It's alive, just like Jennie.

The radio clicks on and begins playing an ancient cassette tape that's still in there, and the song that comes out makes Jennie wrinkle up her nose.

"Ugh, the Captain and Tenille, really?" she says in disgust. She pushes the button so the tape pops out and silence fills the car.