Stacy drove like she had smoked the summer night heat. She, Mariah, and even Carol were singing aloud to Taylor Swift's music that was currently playing in the car.
It felt like I was their audience, observing the three girls more than I was participating. Stacy sang off tune at some point and I laughed.
“You are bad at singing, Stacy!” I shouted and she gave me the middle finger with the other hand that wasn’t gripping the stirring wheel while she continued to sing aloud.
I so much wanted to suggest that— we should just keep driving around town like this instead of going to watch the so-called motorcycle race. Why? I was anxious.
I tried to shield myself from the depth of my thought but couldn’t. I sure was just being paronoid because motorcycles make me think of him.
We finally tu
