Age 18
“Beebub! Hurry up!” I yelled out the window, honking my horn for good measure. I was driving my dad’s truck, which I kept idling in front of the sheriff’s house. The front door was open, so I knew the i***t could hear me. It took forty-five minutes to drive to the nearest cinema, and the movie would start in an hour.
“Hold your horses,” I heard him shout back, and glanced out the passenger side window, almost choking at the clothes he wore. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, though I should have been used to my best friend’s dramatic flair by now.
“You expect me to be seen with you in public, dressed like that?” I asked as he sat in the truck and put on his seatbelt.
“You’ve survived this long,” he replied, and from the corner of my eye I caught a smirk as we took off d
