Work Text:
The sun warmed the teal body of Jerry Renault’s car as the two sped through the freeway. It was the only time that The Goober and Jerry wore sunglasses. A true beauty, that car, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala SS. Not only did the benches match the outside body, but the rest of the interior did too.
Everytime Goober drove with Jerry he felt like the guys that the girls he loved flocked to. Jerry sure was turning into one of them, he grew out of his baby face sophomore year, now a senior. He looked more like a man, like his father. It didn’t help that he sounded like a jerk that beat on Bunting; wasn’t his whole thing no longer throwing a punch? No one ever beat on The Goober, however, he always felt emotionally beat down, even if he towered over people. He hated what Jerry was becoming, rude, almost vengeful; not for the school, rather for himself. Bunting never laid a finger on Renault, he wasn’t Costello.
As the wind howled past them, The Goober was able to forget all of the growing negatives of Jerry Renault; driving brought back freshman tryouts. The other boy’s voice was soft, yet stern, a proper voice for a varsity captain. His face, filled with emotion, even with the sunglasses that hide his brows and eyes. The Goober still wondered what color his children’s eyes would be if he had them with someone that shared Jerry’s eye color. While singing, Jerry pressed and pressed on the gas pedal. He sounded like a choir boy, apparently, was a choir boy in primary school and junior high. Supposedly, had a great range as well. But The Goober couldn’t remember if Jerry mentioned being an alto or mezzo, or even what those pitches meant.