Chapter Text
“Tina, watch the left side—the left—LEFT, TINA LEFT!” Bob bellowed from the passenger seat.
Tina overcorrected (all while emitting her characteristic groan), sent the car reeling into the right shoulder, and finally rolled to an awkward, stuttering stop.
She responded with intermittent groans and exclamations of, “Sorry, uuuuuuugh, sorry, uuuuuuugh, sorry!”
Bob wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone still clearly harried. This was a terrible idea, he thought.
Tina groaned in frustration. “Ugh, why is this so difficult?!”
“Just—let’s just sit here for a moment,” Bob said, doing his absolute best to be reasonable but secretly grateful for the respite.
Where was Linda to pipe in with an annoying yet surprisingly apt tune to cheer their daughter up? Oh, that’s right—she was at home enjoying a Say Yes to the Dress marathon with Gene and Louise. He wasn’t surprised Gene loved it (“an empire waist with that figure? Dream on, sister!”), but Louise swore she only watched it for the “sick drama of it all.” Bob shook his head, baffled. He knew Linda needed a distraction from the realization that Tina was 15 and learning to drive (“Awwww, my little baaaaby is growing up!”).
Tina’s overly exaggerated deep breaths beside him brought him back to the present. He glanced at her, hoping she wasn’t about to hyperventilate. Oh, God, he thought. This was a really bad idea. He recalled their last adventure and stifled the familiar burn of frustration (she hit a parked car…in an empty parking lot…). He loved his daughter. He really did. But how—
Just then, a truck roared past them, barely missing the side mirror and rocking the parked station wagon with the backdraft. A familiar curly-haired figure was hanging on for dear life in the truck bed.
“Was that—?”
“Zeke!” Tina finished Bob’s open-ended question.
They watched the truck swerve side to side in sharp curves. Oncoming traffic came to a halt, but this didn't seem to deter the driver at all. In fact, the hoodlum and his cronies were waving their arms out the windows and taunting the other cars with loud jeers. Zeke was tossed around the truck bed like a loose sack of potatoes.
“What is he doing hanging with those idiots?” Bob said.
He always liked Zeke, especially since discovering the kid’s innate cooking abilities. But he felt his opinion of him dwindle at the spectacle in front of them.
“We have to help him,” Tina said under her breath, putting the car in gear. It rolled forward, and she roared the engine before realizing her mistake and putting the car in drive instead of neutral.
“Wait, Tina—”
“He’s going to fall out and get hurt.”
“No, Tina, you’ve got to look—”
“We can’t wait!” Tina gunned the station wagon and peeled after the truck.
A car horn sounded behind them. Bob yelled an apology, realizing the futility in this as the offended driver just flipped them off. He really hoped it wasn’t somebody they knew.
Tina drove almost as erratically as the truck in front of them, but she managed to keep pace. They ducked into a nearby alley, and she slammed on the brakes when she saw Zeke fly out of the truck and onto the unforgiving concrete.
Bob reached over to open his door, but only after yelping and telling Tina to put the car in park so it didn’t keep rolling forward like it was.
“WE CAN’T HELP HIM IF WE RUN OVER HIM!” Bob yelled, then followed it with (still shouting), “I’M SORRY, I’M NOT ANGRY AT YOU—YOU’RE DOING GREAT!”
They both rounded the front of the car and approached the huddled figure.
“Sweet be-jeezus, that hurt!” Zeke said with his thick country drawl, slowly lifting himself into a sitting position.
After ensuring he had no broken bones or that he hadn’t hit his head (too) hard, Bob let his frustration boil over.
“Zeke, what were you thinking? You and your friends could have caused a wreck, or worse—someone could have gotten seriously hurt. You fell out of a moving vehicle! What were you thinking?? That has to be the dumbest—”
“Dad!” Tina yelled, effectively silencing him. She rarely yelled.
Bob huffed and was about to offer a half-ass apology, but Zeke picked himself up from the pavement and dusted off his shorts.
“Those weren’t my friends,” he said, not making eye contact and speaking softer than he normally did. “Those were my stupid cousins. They’re always making me do dumb crap like that, saying I need to toughen up and stuff. I didn’t have another ride home, and…I’m real sorry, Mr. B.,” Zeke finally met Bob’s gaze.
Bob saw that Zeke’s usually ruddy face was pale, and his characteristic swagger was nonexistent.
“It’s—it’s alright, Zeke.” he sighed. “Get in the car, we’ll take you home.”
“Can I—?” Tina piped up.
“Heck no, I’m driving,” Bob insisted.
--
The ride was quiet. Well, except for the smooth jazz on the radio, which Tina’s dad decided might soothe his rattled nerves. Her own nerves were completely on edge—not just from the stress of learning to drive a car with her father as copilot.
Tina didn’t know what came over her earlier. She saw Zeke flopping around helplessly in the back of the truck, and with uncharacteristic speed, she sprang into action.
And she didn’t even like Zeke.
Well, at least, she didn’t like-like him. He was loud and sometimes crude, and he was always in the way when she wanted to spend time with Jimmy Jr. But something about seeing his pale, terrified face—her heart went out to him.
Tina hazarded a glance in his direction. Zeke’s eyes averted suddenly.
Had he been looking at her? She frowned.
There were no two ways about it. She was going to have to write some serious Friend Fiction to work through this.