Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

Even I could sense that he was wanting to change the topic. “Sure. I’ve still got muffins for us.”

Because of course I did, Mimi and Mom having packaged them in ridiculous baskets amid more reminders of how to act that had had me gritting my teeth and hurrying out the door.

“Good. I’m starving.” Jasper stretched in his seat as Conrad took the exit, following the signs that directed us to a truck-stop gas station—a large, low white building with red and blue details that was surrounded by dozens of idling trucks and cars packed with weekend tourists.

Paying with cash for the gas turned out to be more complicated than a card purchase and necessitated two trips inside the store, but eventually we had a full tank of gas and were parked in the relative shade of a row of trees. A few picnic tables had been placed closer to one of the fast-food places sharing a parking lot, and we made our way there with the food. As I handed out the muffins and napkins, Jasper took some pictures for Professor Tuttle, mainly him and Conrad goofing off.

“Man, your moms can cook,” Jasper said around a mouthful of muffin after a few minutes of quiet eating.

“And healthy stuff. My mom does the oat-and-apple combo too.” Conrad sounded strangely wistful, same as he had earlier when the subject of his family had come up. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but before I could figure it out, he pushed away from the table. “I’m gonna go find the restroom and get a drink.”

I thought about reminding him of the whole no-food-in-the-car rule, but he looked so determined that I kept my mouth shut.

“I’ll drive the next part,” I said instead, trying to mimic some of Conrad’s easy confidence. I was done sitting in the back seat, and since Jasper seemed well installed in the passenger seat, driving was my only way out.

“Okaaay.” Conrad drew the word out. “It’s pretty flat and easy until we hit Pittsburgh at least. Yeah, you can have a turn.”

I wanted to tell him that he didn’t get to be the leader just because he’d driven first, but he was striding away before I could find my voice. A short while later, we were all back at the car, but instead of Jasper taking the passenger seat like I’d expected, he headed for the back seat.

“You’ve got longer legs,” he said to Conrad. “And I wanna nap while Gramps here figures out how far under the speed limit he can get away with.”

They both laughed as they climbed into the car, but I didn’t. True to his word, Jasper was asleep before we were even back on the highway. And yeah, I was creeping along. This…tank drove nothing like the sporty compact that was my only comparison, as both moms owned matching Prius hatchbacks. We’d always lived close enough to campus that a separate car for me hadn’t made sense. The gas pedal was too mushy, the steering too boxy, the shifter too sticky, and my already-galloping pulse didn’t like any of it.

“Turning radius is weird, but you should be okay on the highway.” Conrad probably meant it as encouragement, but knowing he’d picked up on my discomfort only made me feel patronized, shame snaking up my spine. And frustratingly, he was right. The relative openness of the highway did help once I found an equilibrium for the accelerator.

“You gonna freak if I browse the radio?” Conrad had a ridiculously big soda in his hand, one too big to fit in the cup holder.

“No radio.” My jaw and neck were still final-exam tight.

“Okay. You’re doing good.” The compassion in his voice made me want to crawl under the seat. I hated pity and false praise more than just about anything, and hearing it from Conrad—who was usually so dismissive of me—had the skin on my back prickling.

“Don’t baby me.” I didn’t exactly snap, but the words were far from light and breezy.

“I’m not. You really are doing fine.” This time, his praise hit a different place inside me—some place soft and vulnerable that desperately wanted to believe him…and not just about my driving.

“Thanks.” Remarkably, some of the tension left my face. I didn’t quite manage a smile, but I wasn’t scowling either. Was this what it would be like if we were actually friends?

Obsessing over that had me almost miss the brake lights of the semi in front of us as traffic slowed markedly.

I braked hard, probably harder than I needed to, and Conrad’s soda sloshed, a frigid river of sticky fluid hitting my pants leg.

“Watch it!” We both had identical angry tones.

“You shouldn’t have brought a drink in the car.” The words came out before I could recall them, a literal knee-jerk reaction that I regretted almost as much as letting him distract me in the first place.