Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

“And you shouldn’t be driving if you can’t watch the road.”

With that, we were back on familiar ground, moment of compassion quickly forgotten. It was so much easier to be mad at Conrad than to try to figure out how to deal with him being nice. In fact, as we continued to bicker, traffic crawling, I relaxed further, shoulders softening and hands no longer clenched on the wheel. Fighting with him was familiar. Reassuring even, with none of the awkwardness of those fake compliments.

I knew perfectly well that we were never going to be friends, and there was little point in pretending otherwise.

Chapter Nine

Conrad

I didn’t kill Alden. That needed to count for something. Even after hours and hours of his slow-as-hell plodding along in the truck lane. And his complaining about everything from traffic to my soda. Which to be fair, I let rankle me until I was debating stupid stuff with him, the two of us bickering our way through Pennsylvania. We finally changed drivers again outside Pittsburgh with a quick stop—gas, restrooms, some fast food, and back on the road.

Now, it was probably safe to say that neither Alden nor I was particularly eager to see Jasper drive, not after his Mario Kart–level racing demo the day before. However, fair was fair, and I kept my reservations to myself. Alden, of course, had no such restraint, tossing around words like prudent and caution and best intentions while Jasper got us back on the road. I was still in the passenger seat since Alden didn’t want to sit where my sloshed soda had gone unfortunately sticky and gave me an exasperated look before climbing into the back. Finally, I’d had enough of his back-seat commentary, and I turned around.

“Dude. I thought you were some wannabe doctor. Is law school the backup plan or what?”

“No.” One word, but there was a world of condescension behind it.

“Darn. The big-name law firms are probably all weeping over the loss of all your fine-print warnings.” I’d meant to get a laugh, make him see how ridiculous he was being, and maybe lighten him up a bit, but all he did was harrumph like a bear awakened too early from hibernation.

“Come on, guys. How about you give it a rest?” Jasper sighed as if we were the most exhausting thing ever, and maybe we were. “And I’m calling it. Radio time. Conrad, you can be DJ. Do your worst with the dials.”

“Fine. As long as it doesn’t distract you from driving, I guess we could listen to the news,” Alden allowed, which only ensured that I passed right by the NPR station.

“Do you even listen to music, or is it all educational programming with you all the time?” I asked as I browsed the stations.

“It depends. Music with lyrics can be distracting to me. I don’t dislike it, but sometimes it’s too…emotional, I guess.” It was more of a real answer than I’d expected from him, and I softened my tone before replying.

“I guess I can see that. But music is supposed to make you feel. We’re human. Feeling is good. See?” I landed on a contemporary country station that reminded me of what we got on the radio back home. And as the singer romanticized his small town with dirt roads and old pickup trucks, I almost had to agree with Alden. Sometimes the feelings were simply too much. Maybe news would have been easier.

“My ears. They’re like literally bleeding. Something else,” Jasper demanded as the song changed to a twangy classic about killing cheating exes.

“Many English professors agree that misuse of the word ‘literally’ is one of the worst things about our generation.”

“Says the dude with a literal pole up his ass.” I gave Alden a dismissive hand wave before turning back around, finding Jasper an alternative station that lasted until we hit a stretch after crossing into Ohio where it was all rural and the only choices that weren’t crackly were country and AM radio. I made them suffer a sports radio station debating whether the Pittsburgh or Cleveland MLB team would have the better season before we were able to catch another alternative station. We reached our Sunday evening stop in the late afternoon, pulling into a small town on the outskirts of Columbus.

Like Gracehaven, it had something of an old-fashioned downtown, a main street with a mix of empty buildings with For Sale signs and little businesses, most of which were closed since it was a Sunday. Jasper easily found us parking, which unlike most places around Gracehaven was free. The game store was located in what looked to be a former bank—a long, narrow brick building on a corner with a colorful logo on the door bragging about “unplugged fun.” Merchandise was organized in what had probably once been the bank lobby, with gaming tables set up behind the old teller stations, one of which had been left behind and repurposed as a register.