Momentum

Violet.

To put it lightly, Jeffrey isn't feeling much better.

The doctor prescribed him some antibiotics, but he informed my mother that the medication would take a few days to kick in. Since it would be impossible to focus on anything academic while the sound of my little brother hawking bombards our ears, Christen and I agree to brainstorm ideas for our project at her house. I spend the hour between the end of practice and her arrival flipping through my old chemistry notebook, hoping to have an epiphany. My search for inspiration is cut short when my mother pokes her head into my room to tell me that Christen is waiting for me outside.

A battered sedan that looks like it was made in the nineties is parked in my driveway. The red paint that coats the vehicle no longer shines, and the headlights seem to have fog trapped inside of them. Christen leans over to open the door for me when I approach the car, and I carefully situate myself in the passenger's seat. There's several tools on the floor, and a large battery pack rests on top of the armrest. I have to lean towards the window and place my feet in a corner to avoid touching anything.

"Sorry for the mess. My dad keeps a lot of stuff that he needs for work in here."

I shake my head. "It's no problem."

Christen's father is a carpenter. He works for the city's community development department, which is in charge of constructing the facilities that the city needs to sustain itself, such as schools and post offices and fire stations. It isn't unusual for the patron to show up to soccer matches sporting a pair of dusty overalls, cement caked to his hands.

I turn the crank mounted to the door to roll down the window and watch two-story houses become one-story houses, and verdant lawns turn into hotbeds for weeds. We reach a stop sign, and I spot two guys in black hoodies sitting on the curb, disposable cups resting on the cement beside them. Their smooth skin and small frames signal that they are teenagers, but I don't think I have ever seen them around school before. I press myself against the seat when one of them spots me looking their way and breaks out in a mischevious grin. Christen notices my sudden rigidity and investigates its cause.

"Oh." She smiles lightly. "I know them."

I squirm, uncomfortable. "You do?"

She nods and leans over. "¡Cabrónes! ¿Qué están haciendo aquí?"

They both sit up upon hearing her voice, and the same boy that caught me watching them conspicuously slides his cup behind his back, while his friend squints in our direction and responds.

"¿Christen? ¡Deberíamos haber sabido que eras tú desde el coche de mierda!"

"¡Ni siquiera puedes conducir!"

"No legalmente." He chuckles. "Puedo conducir mejor que tú."

The boy who showed me how white his teeth are speaks up. "¿Quién es tu amiga? Creo que la asusté."

"Probablemente lo hiciste, feo." The forward nods towards me. "Este es Tobin."

"¿Tobin?" He points at me "¿La chica de la que siempre nos hablas?"

She rolls her eyes. "Sí. Así que deja de mirarla, o tendré que patearte el culo."

A car pulls up behind us, and Christen says bye to her friends before pressing on the accelerator. I watch the two boys grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until I can't see them at all.

"Who were they?"

"Raul and Alexis. Cabrónes."

"What were you guys talking about?"