8
Jennifer
Bertha’s trunk snapped shut with a thunk.
“That’ll do it,” I said with a smile as Julian looked on in dismay. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
Bertha was my hooptie white Honda Civic. She had intermittent AC issues, no automatic locks or windows, and lacked cruise control. I’d had her since high school. We’d had our ups and downs, but I couldn’t give her up. We were a pair.
I opened my driver’s side door and reached across the console to pop the lock her Julian. He slipped into the passenger side as I revved the engine.
By revved, it was really more of praying and clicking the engine over until it caught.
“Phew, okay,” I said with a smile. “Bertha has her moments.”
“You want to drive this to Austin?”
I glanced over at him. “Why not?”
“No reason,” he said with a smi
