I secretly played with that car, a little bit, before I sent it back to her the first time. I hadn’t had anything like that, as a kid. She had the remote on her end, so all I could do was vroom vroom it around in the bathroom where no one would see me. To return it to her, I’d roll it into the culvert, which was very slightly sloped down toward the outside, with the money (or sometimes, family jewellery) tied on.
One day, I went out to send the car through and Dad was sitting on the end of the culvert, his legs dangling over the side. I scowled.
“Where’d you get that car, Gilbert?”
“I boboed it off a kid.” That’s Enclave slang for “bought.” Dad frowned at me because he didn’t like me using cant, as he called it. I really wasn’t trying to push his buttons, honest. Just sometimes I forget
