the end of her pink tassel was filthy — she had fallen on it and ground it into the dirty floor.
“You kids have got to learn to be more careful,” the counter woman said.
June thought she had never seen anything so awful as her face in that restroom mirror. It wasn’t just the swelling, and the promise of an enormous black eye. It was the whole disgusting package — the pale winter skin, no makeup, dirty hair, and the pink hat. She cleaned up as best she could, then moistened a paper towel and sat on the toilet and pressed the wet towel to her cheek.
She imagined what was waiting for her outside. Wes — floppy-haired Wes — all apologetic and concerned, and that horrible counter woman — she had never liked that woman. But there was no avoiding it. She couldn’t stay in the restroom until the end of the universe.
June checked herself in the mirror again. Definitely a black eye coming.
She took her broken glasses from her pocket and tried to put them on her face, but the frame was completely twisted, and the broken lens was worse than nothing. With a sigh, she walked back out into the store. Wes was still standing by the front counter.
“Your OJ,” he said, holding up the carton of juice.
Wes wasn’t sure what to expect. Would she be mad at him? Would she be crying? Would she have to go to the emergency room?
June took the orange juice from him, put it on the counter, dug in her jeans pocket, and came out with a five-dollar bill. Thecounter woman rang up the sale and gave her change. Wes stood by helplessly.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
June turned to him and held up her broken glasses.
“I can’t see. You have to drive me home.” She didn’t seem angry.
“I don’t have a car,” he said.
“In
my
car.” Not angry, but she wasn’t smiling.
If anything, it was even colder and windier outside. They got into the car.
“I’ve never driven a BMW before,” Wes said.
“It’s just a car.”
Wes turned the key in the ignition.
“I don’t know where you live.”
“On Twentieth.”
“Oh.” That was where he thought she lived. He backed out of the parking space, then stopped. She was shaking. “Are you okay?” He realized she was laughing.
“I can’t believe that happened!” she said between gasps.
Then Wes cracked up too, and a second later he realized he’d let his foot off the brake and they were about to roll into one of the gas pumps. He hit the brake just in time, and June started laughing even harder.
“You … almost … wrecked … the car!” she said, her eyes tearing up.
Wes, caught between embarrassment and laughter, put the car in drive and pulled out onto the street.
“That would have been perfect,” June said, then hiccupped.Wes thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and had to pull over. He bumped the curb.
June looked at him in mock shock, one eye wide, the other one beginning to swell shut. Her eyes were a pale, icy blue, not the aqua he remembered. “You are the worst driver
ever,”
she said, and for no reason at all, that set them both off again.
It was only about a mile to June’s house. On the way, June told him about her mom’s Cold from Hell and of her urgent demand for orange juice.
“I just hope my mom appreciates I got a concussion for her orange juice,” June said.
“Everybody appreciates a good concussion.” Wes put a hand to the lump on his forehead.
“It’s the house with the ginormous Santa.”
Wes pulled into the driveway. There was a sparkly wreath on the door and a six-foot plastic Santa Claus guarding the front steps.
“Nice Santa,” Wes said.
“I know. It’s embarrassing.” She leaned across him and activated the garage door opener clipped to the visor. “Can you pull into the garage?”
They drove into the garage and got out.
“Thanks for driving me home,” June said. She looked him over and frowned. “Is that all you’re wearing?”
“I live pretty close to here.”
“Yeah, like
“You kids have got to learn to be more careful,” the counter woman said.
June thought she had never seen anything so awful as her face in that restroom mirror. It wasn’t just the swelling, and the promise of an enormous black eye. It was the whole disgusting package — the pale winter skin, no makeup, dirty hair, and the pink hat. She cleaned up as best she could, then moistened a paper towel and sat on the toilet and pressed the wet towel to her cheek.
She imagined what was waiting for her outside. Wes — floppy-haired Wes — all apologetic and concerned, and that horrible counter woman — she had never liked that woman. But there was no avoiding it. She couldn’t stay in the restroom until the end of the universe.
June checked herself in the mirror again. Definitely a black eye coming.
She took her broken glasses from her pocket and tried to put them on her face, but the frame was completely twisted, and the broken lens was worse than nothing. With a sigh, she walked back out into the store. Wes was still standing by the front counter.
“Your OJ,” he said, holding up the carton of juice.
Wes wasn’t sure what to expect. Would she be mad at him? Would she be crying? Would she have to go to the emergency room?
June took the orange juice from him, put it on the counter, dug in her jeans pocket, and came out with a five-dollar bill. Thecounter woman rang up the sale and gave her change. Wes stood by helplessly.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
June turned to him and held up her broken glasses.
“I can’t see. You have to drive me home.” She didn’t seem angry.
“I don’t have a car,” he said.
“In
my
car.” Not angry, but she wasn’t smiling.
If anything, it was even colder and windier outside. They got into the car.
“I’ve never driven a BMW before,” Wes said.
“It’s just a car.”
Wes turned the key in the ignition.
“I don’t know where you live.”
“On Twentieth.”
“Oh.” That was where he thought she lived. He backed out of the parking space, then stopped. She was shaking. “Are you okay?” He realized she was laughing.
“I can’t believe that happened!” she said between gasps.
Then Wes cracked up too, and a second later he realized he’d let his foot off the brake and they were about to roll into one of the gas pumps. He hit the brake just in time, and June started laughing even harder.
“You … almost … wrecked … the car!” she said, her eyes tearing up.
Wes, caught between embarrassment and laughter, put the car in drive and pulled out onto the street.
“That would have been perfect,” June said, then hiccupped.Wes thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and had to pull over. He bumped the curb.
June looked at him in mock shock, one eye wide, the other one beginning to swell shut. Her eyes were a pale, icy blue, not the aqua he remembered. “You are the worst driver
ever,”
she said, and for no reason at all, that set them both off again.
It was only about a mile to June’s house. On the way, June told him about her mom’s Cold from Hell and of her urgent demand for orange juice.
“I just hope my mom appreciates I got a concussion for her orange juice,” June said.
“Everybody appreciates a good concussion.” Wes put a hand to the lump on his forehead.
“It’s the house with the ginormous Santa.”
Wes pulled into the driveway. There was a sparkly wreath on the door and a six-foot plastic Santa Claus guarding the front steps.
“Nice Santa,” Wes said.
“I know. It’s embarrassing.” She leaned across him and activated the garage door opener clipped to the visor. “Can you pull into the garage?”
They drove into the garage and got out.
“Thanks for driving me home,” June said. She looked him over and frowned. “Is that all you’re wearing?”
“I live pretty close to here.”
“Yeah, like
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