Proving Webster Wrong

Chapter Two -- Drew

Chapter Two

Drew

The pizza sat on the seat between us as I drove looking for somewhere to stop and eat. Chloe took a sip of her soda and then sat the cup in the holder. In one smooth motion she pulled the elastic from her brown hair, gathered it all back up, and then tied it back up.

"Stop watching me and pay attention to the road," she said without even glancing my way.

I turned my attention back to road. "Where should we stop?" I asked her.

"I told you we should have stayed at the restaurant, at least there we would have had air." She rested her head against the window. One hand pulled the thin yellow shrug she wore over her yellow sundress a little tighter.

"You seem to be cold right now."

Her eyes rolled a little and settled into what could only be considered a glare. She started back up with the thing where her she twists the fingers of her right hand around her left ring finger.

In all the time that I had known her Chloe had never worn a ring so the habit didn't make any sense at all. "Why do you do that?" I asked.

"What?"

"Twist your fingers like that?" I gestured to her hands with my chin. She tucked her arms around herself without responding. "I'm stopping at the park." Still no response from her.

The park was old. It used to always be crowed but since the newer park had been built on the other side of town with better ball fields and what everyone considered safer equipment people hardly ever came here. This was the park that we had grown up at.

I turned into the small gravel parking lot and came to a stop. One other car sat beside us with a bike rack on top. In the distance I could see the two bikers as the split off from the track that circled the park and head into the woods onto the rough trails.

I watched as Chloe slowly unbuckled her seat belt and opened the passenger door. "We can go somewhere else," I said with my hand lingering over the buckle for my own seat belt.

She lifted both of her eyebrows, one of the few signs of emotion her face seemed capable off stage, and pushed her door open further. "Come on." It was hard to tell if she meant it to be harsh or not.

I unbuckled, open my door, and reached for the pizza only to find that Chloe had already snatched it up and started making her way to the picnic table. I grabbed the two drinks from the cup holder, used my shoulder to close the door, and tried to catch up.

"Did you get napkins?" She asked lifting the lid of the box.

I shook my head. "There may be some in the truck somewhere." I sat the cups down and wiped the water that was on my hands from them onto my pants.

"No, I've got some." She dug around in that large bag of her's and pulled a stack of napkins.

I took the one she handed to me and tried to figure out what to say first. Ask why she carried around such a pile of napkins or point out that she could have just left the bag in the truck. I didn't say anything.

Chloe had a whole routine of how to eat pizza at a park picnic table on a Sunday afternoon. First she removed her yellow shrug, exposing the thin straps of her sundress, which she folded gently and place in her bag. Then she spread a napkin out on the table and placed a slice of pizza on it. She pressed another napkin on top soaking up the grease. Finally she folded the grease covered napkin up and placed it under the lid of the pizza box, probably so it wouldn't be blown away by the non-existent breeze.