Introducing Meg, the heroine of a pre-apocalyptic dystopia.
I drove down the highway, chafing at having to stay under the speed limit. But there was traffic, and after what we’d already been through this week, a ticket was the last thing I needed. I changed lanes, hoping that this time it would actually keep zipping along like it seemed to. I hate rush hour. Nobody ever moves. Don’t they realize that I have places to be?
“Relax Meg, San Antonio will still be there in three hours,” Drey said.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I mumbled, craning to see if there was any logical reason for the interstate to be crawling along at 40 mph. I glanced over at Drey, who had somehow managed to wedge herself crosswise in the passenger seat, her feet carelessly up on the dash, her violin under her chin. She dragged the bow across the strings, a discordant chord for my sake. I swear, that girl could speak in music.
The car in front of me suddenly stopped for no reason. I slammed on the brakes and barely managed to avoid colliding with his bumper. Drey’s bow went flying and hit the windshield. She cradled her violin to her chest and glared at me through her electric blue bangs.
“Does it bother you that I’m more afraid of your driving than I am of Slider and his gang?” Drey collected her bow and resettled herself.
“Just nervous. I’m sorry Drey.” I took my foot off the gas and tried valiantly to drive less manically. Drey balanced her violin on her knees and put her free hand on my arm.
“It’s only been twenty four hours. Jase is smart, he’ll be fine.”
“It’s not Jase I’m worried about,” I said, and immediately regretted it. Drey picked up her violin and played a couple of laughing notes in a vain attempt to hide a smile.
“Boyfriend hasn’t called yet? Honestly Meg, you have a strange idea of romance.”
“Oh you hush,” I growled, glaring at the taillights of the car in front of me. The landscape passed by in relentless slow motion. I hate rush hour.
My phone buzzed in my pocket – the ringtone I had set it to for once. Not Jase then. I dug the buzzing thing out of my pocket and flipped it open.
“Meg Ryder,” I said.
“What, I’m not special enough for you to answer with your real name?”
“It’ll take more than a little sweet talk to make me divulge that information to someone who’s still officially on the enemies list Ty,” I said.
“Oh, but you know you like a bad boy,” Tyler, aka Speed, aka Management’s prized assassin, teased.
“Try a little harder,” I answered. I caught Drey’s silent laughter from the seat next to me and rolled my eyes at her.
“Fine. So, what are you doing tonight?” Ty asked.
“Depends.” I glanced over at Drey again, who made a shooing motion with her hands.
“Well, I got a little extra cash, want to meet me at the Doorjamb at seven?” I could just imagine his smug little face right now.
“Make it eight and make it Everest, and I might show up,” I answered.
“As you wish milady. Now I’d better run before Management starts asking why the phone bill’s so high.” He didn’t even give me the chance to say goodbye before the phone clicked off. That boy…
Drey slid her bow across her violin strings, playing the opening notes of some romantic Disney song I couldn’t immediately pick out. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and didn’t say anything. The traffic suddenly picked up and I changed lanes yet again, hoping for a break.