Frank pulls up into the front of the main entrance doors, putting the car in park. It was on the rare occasions that Frank was kind enough—or sober enough—to get up early and drop me off to school. It definitely beats getting up at six in the morning to catch the only bus that passes through the neighborhood. The school bus arrives earlier.
I push down on the seatbelt lock to unbuckle myself. "Thanks for the ride."
"When do you think that friend of yours, Zean, is going to hand over the keys of your Honda?"
"Probably in a week? It was pretty beat up so he's going to fix it up first before he could clear it for me to drive." To which I was glad he took the time to fix it up, free of charge. If anyone could configure my car to be top notch, despite it being a 60 mph car, it would be him.
