NEVER GONNA HAPPEN

2. York

two

york

“Hi! Sorry if I took too long. My cat was demanding attention and—oh!”

Carmen slid all the way in and shut her door before she noticed Peyton.

She blinked three times before sending me a questioning glance, where my face merely burned hotter in response, before she turned back toward the back seat and hesitantly said, “Hi?”

Her confusion was palpable. That told me she hadn’t been expecting any other riders, meaning she’d thought we’d be alone together, in which case maybe she’d also been expecting me to ask her to the Halloween masquerade dance on the way to school, which then meant…oh wow, she’d been planning on telling me yes!

My heart leaped into my throat. Carmen Morales was going to tell me yes.

Then I remembered, oh yeah, she was still weirded out by Peyton’s presence. Right. Had to deal with that first.

“Sorry.” I cringed out an apologetic laugh and motioned toward the back seat. “You know Peyton, right?”

“Um…yeah. Sure. Hey, Peyton.”

Peyton sent her a silent, tight-lipped wave. She typically closed down around other people. Shy introvert and all that.

I was used to it. Carmen probably thought it was rude.

I cleared my throat and reversed from the driveway, hoping Peyton’s freakish ways didn’t ruin everything for me. “You don’t mind if she rides with us, right?”

“Uh…”

That big pause right there meant yes, she totally minded. But being the prettiest, smartest, loveliest, most amazing girl in the tenth grade, Carmen had to act chill about it.

She cleared her throat before saying, “No. Not at all. The more the merrier. You two are… You’re cousins, right?”

Pretty much everyone confused Peyton and me as related. It would’ve been easier if we’d just owned it, but nope, we typically explained the truth. “Nah, we’re just neighbors,” I answered, giving the short version. “My mom makes me give her a ride every day.”

I could practically feel Peyton bristling from the back seat, and that made me smile a little as I focused on the road ahead. It only seemed right that I annoyed her as much as she annoyed me.

From next to me, Carmen murmured, “Ah.” Then she added, “That must suck.”

I blinked. Because…excuse me? But was that a dig at Peyton?

Not cool.

I mean, sure, I myself was totally allowed to hate driving Peyton to school and annoy her and fling all kinds of cheeky, obnoxious comments her way. Brother-like privileges and all that. I even allowed Wes some ribbing rights—until he made her cry, at which point I had to shut him down. But it felt all kinds of wrong to let someone else belittle her. I had thought Carmen was nicer and lovelier than that.

She’s a freaking bully.

Casting a glance into the back seat, I pretty much expected Peyton’s gaze to say, see what I mean, but instead, I saw her eyes watering.

Great. Carmen had hurt her feelings. Now I was going to have to defend Peyton. I hated defending Peyton.

But then Peyton followed up the wet eyes with an even wetter sneeze before she began to scratch her arms.

Okay, that wasn’t her typical hurt behavior. Peyton usually only did that kind of stuff when—

Oh, this was just great. She was having a freaking allergic reaction.

But to what?

I glanced out the window, scanning for ragweed, except we hadn’t reached the field where it grew yet, and besides, she was usually okay if we just kept the windows rolled up when we passed by.

Then it struck me… Whirling toward Carmen, I blurted, “Did you just say you had a cat?”

“Yeah. Why?” She sent me an odd glance before her eyes widened in horror, and she looked down at her lap. “Ugh. Sorry! Skittles sheds like a maniac.” She began to brush at her pants madly with her hands, sending dust particles and dark cat hairs spiraling up into the interior of the Jeep.

“No!” I shouted, not really meaning to shout and yet shouting anyway.

But it was too late. The damage was done.

In the back seat, coughs turned into wheezes.

“York,” Peyton gasped, clutching her throat.

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel as frustration and more panic mounted. This was going to end badly. This was going to end so very badly.

“It’s only, like, five...ten more blocks until school,” I reasoned with her as she began to scratch more vigorously at the hives sprouting on her arms through all her coughing, wheezing, sneezes. “Can’t you just hold it, or something?”

“Right. I’ll just hold in my…” More coughing commenced before she choked on her own words as if her throat were swelling closed.

Yeah, we weren’t going to make it to school like this.

“What’s going on?” Carmen asked, glancing back at Peyton, only to yelp and smack her hand to her chest. “Ohmigosh, is she okay?”

Grumbling under my breath, because the answer to that question could be debatable, I jerked the Jeep to the curb and slammed it into park. “She’s having an allergic reaction,” I explained, turning to Carmen to give her an apologetic wince. “To the cat dander on you.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened even larger. “Ohmigosh, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Again, she began to sweep the feline remains off her with her hands, littering the air with more cat.

“No!” I hollered again, lifting both hands. “Stop. You’re getting more in the air by doing that, and it’s only making it worse.”

Carmen froze, her hands poised above her lap. “What do we do, then?” she whispered before shifting her eyes, and her eyes only, Peyton’s way, where Peyton wasn’t faring so well.

“You two can’t stay in here together,” I answered. “Someone’s going to have to walk the rest of the way to school.” I reached past Carmen’s knee, which made her jump and swing her leg away from me, so I could get to the glove compartment. “Sorry. Excuse me.” I flipped open the door and started dragging out an EpiPen, inhaler, and nasal spray.

It would’ve been nice if I could’ve fit my own stuff in my glove compartment that actually belonged to me, but no, over time, it had become a mini pharmacy dedicated to Peyton and her allergies.

When I shut the glove compartment door, Carmen was still sitting there, gaping at me. Maybe I should’ve told her she could unfreeze now. I’m not sure. But I sent her a telling look, lifting my eyebrows meaningfully, so she’d get the hint.

She blinked once, then twice, before finally yelping, “What? You don’t expect me to be the one to walk the rest of the way to school?”

We still hadn’t passed Ragweed Row; there was no way Peyton would make it through there on foot, especially not in the condition she was in. But I didn’t explain any of this to Carmen.

One: I didn’t want her to start thinking of Peyton as some kind of freak of nature, and two: Hello! Peyton could barely breathe because of her. And now she expected Peyton to walk?

Where the heck was that lovely, selfless, amazing front she put on at school?

It was my turn to blink at her as if I couldn’t be certain if she was being for real or not, because really? “You’re not the one having an asthma attack right now,” I said logically, or at least, it sounded logical to me. I didn’t even flood my tone with any of the impatience or exasperation I was feeling.

But Carmen huffed as if I’d forced her to walk five miles instead of five—okay, fine, ten—blocks.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, flinging open the door before gathering her things and climbing out. “You’re a real piece of work, York Kinsey. You know that? A real jerk.” The passenger side door gave a hearty c***k as she slammed it shut.

It’d be a miracle if the glass in that window made it through the day.

I sighed, defeated, and yet not able to take a moment to mourn the loss.

Turning promptly toward the back seat, I held up the drugstore in my hands. “Which one?”

Peyton blinked, trying to focus on the items through red, watering eyes before she grabbed the inhaler and nasal spray.

As she sucked in a lungful of albuterol, I rolled down the windows to air the place out, and the coughing stopped soon thereafter.

Giving her a moment to get herself back under control because we were going to have to roll the windows back up before we passed the ragweed, I stared sullenly out the front windshield as Carmen stormed down the sidewalk away from us.

I guess I could’ve just left the Jeep with Peyton and walked with Carmen the rest of the way to school. But it didn’t seem safe to leave my “patient” alone just yet, in case she happened to have another flare-up.

Behind me, the sound of Peyton snuffling her nasal spray made me sigh. Not even glancing back, I tossed a box full of tissues into the back seat for her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled miserably.

I’d made the right choice, I assured myself. I had.

And yet, I still felt crappy.

“I’m sorry,” Peyton added before blowing her nose. It was one of those big, goober-filled, gross-sounding blows, too.

I glanced back, cringing. She was already getting better, the hives were dissipating, and her eyes were losing some of their redness. But the poor thing looked so hopeless and pathetic, it reassured me even more that I’d done the right thing.

With a sigh, I turned away and put the SUV into gear as I rolled the windows closed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I didn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween masquerade ball that bad, anyway.”

I’m pretty sure Peyton knew I was lying—she always did—but she didn’t correct me. It only would’ve made things worse, almost as bad as things got when we drove past Carmen seconds later, and she glared, flipping us the middle finger as we left her behind.