The Van Pact

7: Stevie

"Well, I wasn't expecting to win," Valerie shrugged.

"Four more years?" I asked.

"So what?" Valerie shrugged again. "It felt right at the time."

"Poor impulse control," I crossed my arms.

"I'll show you poor impulse control," Valerie slammed on the gas pedal as she took a turn and I had to white-knuckle clench onto my seat to avoid falling into the passenger seat door.

"Why do I agree to get into the car with you?"

"Because you're too scared to get your license and the bus makes you feel like a freshman," Valerie pulled up at a red light, tossed her head against her right shoulder, and looked up at me through her lashes.

"I'm not too scared to get my license," I said (this was only half-true), "My dad's not going to get me a car anyway." Valerie doesn't know this, but some people aren't best friends with their parents. Probably most people, actually. The DiPaolos are an unusual group. Of course, my dad isn't a huge disciplinarian, but I can count the number of 'Dad Jokes' he's made on my right hand. He wasn't always that way. My mom used to say that he had first impressed her with his sense of devilish humor, and that's why she agreed to a date. It's funny how life can shake the devil out of you, like change from your pocket.

I felt a sharp tug on my scalp and immediately took account of my face. My lips were in my mouth again. I pushed them out. The dreaded Irish face. Grandma O'Shaughnessy used to scold me for making it- and it's her side I inherited it from.

"What great disappointment were you thinking about now?" Valerie asked. "Don't try to convince me you give a single shit about owning a car."

"Benedict Cumberbatch." It's easy to say Benedict Cumberbatch. Val generally buys that.

"He looks like a grasshopper," Valerie tapped on the gas as the light turned green. "Now your new guy, on the other hand, what's his face, Irish McGorgeousDimples -"

"Sam Mullingar." I supplied.

"Yeah, McGorgeousDimples," Valerie grinned. "I could go for that." She turned on her Hall and Oates tape, which was still in the van's cassette deck. "I CAN GO FOR THAT," she screeched to the song that was playing. "YES CAN DO."

The one thing Valerie can't do at all is carry a tune. I flicked off the stereo.

"Hey!" Valerie slapped the dashboard in front of me, "I got the right to play my music if you're not gonna talk and just sit here and mope about ugly A-list celebrities-"

"Alright, let's talk," I rolled my eyes. "What are you going to do now that everybody voted for you?"

Mrs. More announced the winners of the election over the intercom at the end of fourth period. She included the detail that Valerie had won in "a landslide." It sounded as if she were gloating that her favorite candidate had won.

"I dunno," Valerie pulled into her driveway, parked, then looked at me glossy-eyed like a fish. "I didn't think about it."

"That is the definition of poor impulse control-"

"Point taken," Valerie stroked her chin. It actually seemed she might partake in a moment of self-reflection, but then she said: "I'll abdicate."

"You cannot." I reached behind me and picked up my backpack off the second row of blue car seats. "After that speech? The only way you won't completely devastate everybody is if you had a medical excuse."

Valerie was strangely quiet.

I looked over at her. When I saw that faint smile growing on her lips, I immediately shook my head.

"My mom's a pediatrician-" she said.

"You can't."

"It's a victimless crime!" Valerie insisted.

"YOUR MOTHER COULD LOSE HER MEDICAL LICENSE!"

"Ayy, I'm not stupid," Valerie lifted up her palms at me. "It's not like I'm gonna use her notepad to write the excuse. I'll use her partner's."

"You could go to jail!" I was relatively confident Valerie could go to jail for something like that. Doctor's note fraud has to be illegal.

"It's not like I'll use the notepad as a get-out-of-truancy-free card," Valerie's gaze wandered past me, through my window, and beyond the expanse of the DiPaolo's grassy lawn to someplace faraway, "though I could."

"Val." I tried to give her my most serious, most 'don't be a lunatic' look. Valerie studied my face. Just as I thought she was going to be sensible, her hand fell onto the shift stick.

"Oh no, oh no," I reached for my door handle. "I'm not going to be a party to this."

But before I could escape, Valerie had put the van in reverse and slammed so hard on the gas that I fell backwards onto my seat.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading, voting, commenting and following! Next update will probably be next Tuesday. I like this twice a week system.