Time Lifts the Light

"God, Mikey, why are you so hyper? Did you have anything for lunch other than Pixie Stix?" D.B. groaned.

Mikey was currently twisting around in the back seat, buckling all the seat belts and then weaving his long legs between them.

"What are you doing?"
"Does it matter?" Mikey retorted, rolling his eyes.
"Only if you don't wanna walk home tomorrow."
"Okay, D.B.," Mikey sighed, fastening a third strap around his waist. "You are now, officially, the fun-ruiner."
"Whatever. You're next. I want you out of my car as soon as humanly possible."

He took a right hand turn, maybe a little harder than necessary, and then addressed me without turning his head.

"Where do you live again, Indy?"
"Greenshed. It's right off-"
"No, I know where it is."

There was a thick pause in which the only sounds were Mikey's grunts as he untangled himself from all the seat belts. Then, Mikey's sly face appeared between the gap in the front seats. He smiled coyly and turned to D.B.

"So... It's Indy now, is it?"
D.B. scowled and refused to answer.
"We've got Kimmy and Indy," Mikey said, ticking the names off on his fingers. "And Mikey." He placed his hand on his chest. "So all that's left is..."
"Don't, Mike."
Mikey tickled D.B.'s ear. "Danny!"

The car swerved dangerously as D.B. took his eyes off the road and leaned back to swat at Mikey's head. Mikey shrieked rather girlishly, ducked, and D.B. quickly straightened out the wheel. I forced a quick laugh, but my nails were digging into the vinyl seats. D.B. wasn't exactly the most attentive driver.

"Don't ever call me that again!" D.B. yelled, banging his forehead against the steering wheel in mock frustration.
"Okay, okay," Mikey laughed. Then, under his breath, he added, "Booker."
"Aargh!" he cried in embarrassment, his eyes widening. I bit my knuckle to keep from laughing. "Why do I tell my secrets to these people?" D.B. sighed. "I need new friends!"
"Aw, you love me," Mikey scoffed and picked up his backpack off the floor. "Let me out here, yeah? I gotta get the mail."
"Yeah, okay."

D.B. stopped just inside the gate of Mikey's apartment complex. Mikey swung his book bag over one shoulder, waved once, and winked at me through the windshield. D.B. turned his car around and we continued driving in comfortable silence until we arrived at my house, where he turned his car off, sighed dramatically, and then turned to me.

"Ah - I'm sorry about Kim," he said awkwardly, scratching his head.
"Oh, no. It's okay," I mumbled, but, from his small smile, I could tell he detected the frustration in my voice.
"And I'm also sorry about Mikey."
I laughed and he tapped out "shave-and-a-haircut" on the wheel with his thumbs.

"Well," he said, shrugging. "I guess this is goodbye."

I blinked in surprise; thinking that he had made a big show of turning the car off and making small talk because he'd wanted to tell me something important. I took a moment to collect my book bag and purse. D.B. ignored me and stretched over the console between us, digging around in the cluttered back seat.

"Where are you?" he muttered to himself. "Come on, come on... A-ha!"

I stalled a little, pretending to tie my shoe so that I could see what he had been searching for. It was a crumpled piece of paper. D.B. flattened it out on the steering wheel and laughed quietly, his eyes glazing over with nostalgia. He noticed that I was lingering curiously and showed me the paper. A drawing of a terribly old man took up most of the page.

"A page from my sketchbook," he told me. "S'my gramps."
"Your grandpa?"
"Yeah."
"Why was it all crumpled?" I asked.
"Oh," he sighed. "I tore it out the other day because I decided I didn't like it. And today I changed my mind."

I glanced at the floor of the back seat. A dozen or so identical balls of paper littered the floor.

"Do you do that a lot?"
"What? Change my mind?" He raised his eyebrow, and the scar turned golden in the light of the afternoon streaming in through my window. "Yeah. I'm indecisive as hell." He paused and studied the drawing a bit closer. "Look!" he cried in a baby voice, pointing. "A cute lil' gecko!"

He'd sketched a tiny lizard in the corner of the paper. There were more doodles crammed onto the page, too: a toad with Kim's head fused on it, a little copy of Hobbes from "Calvin and Hobbes", a seashell, and a few scribbled out cartoons. I laughed.

"See you tomorrow," I said.
"Okay," he replied distractedly. "Aw, Kim looks good as a toad!" he exclaimed, more to himself than to me.

I got up out of the car and had to close my door twice. (The first time I'd attempted it, the lock didn't catch in time and the old car made an angry groaning noise.) D.B. sat in my driveway for a few moments, still examining the drawing. Then, just as I was opening my front door, I heard the rusty engine turn over and D.B. squeaked back into the street.

"You're home early!" my mother commented, upon seeing me. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, her laptop perched on her lap. "Did the bus route change?"
"No," I replied, attempting casualty. "I didn't take the bus."
The sound of my mother's typing stopped abruptly. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. "Oh?"
"My... My - uh - friend dropped me off."
"Making friends already?" she asked, pleased. "I'm proud of you, Indigo!"

I usually had a hard time meeting new people. The last time we'd moved, I went an entire week without speaking to anyone at my school, save a mandatory "Present!" when my name was called for roll. My shyness was normally very hard to overcome. I wouldn't admit it to my mother, but I was proud of myself too.