“Good morning, Ms. Luna. This is Rainbow Dash Hothoof calling.”
Mac waited so patiently in the parking lot until I got here. He even waited until Bow pulled off to approach me, and since I get to school earlier than most students, it’s just the two of us. It’s so romantic how devoted he is to me.
I’m in his truck now, and he hands me his phone so I can get outta school without my parents knowing. “I’m in the car with my mom right now, and we’re on our way to my doctor's appointment.” Mac doesn’t know I’m pregnant, I don’t even think he knows his sister is too. He doesn’t really know all that intricate stuff at his home since he spends a lot of time working or hanging out with his cool ass cousins. They made a mixtape and it’s like all over the internet. I definitely see this guy becoming a famous rapper in like 2 to 3 years.
He looks over at me with his pretty green eyes and smiles.
“Hmm?” Ms. Luna asks about the listed doctor appointments provided to her by Windy. It’s a requirement for the class, but she should know these things aren’t set in stone. It’s all just fricking random sometimes. I roll my eyes because she’s being suspicious for no damn reason. “Yeah, it’s last minute because I’m having belly pains.”
Mac mouths something to me. He mouths just hang up, and, like, he’s right. I don’t owe this woman an explanation.
Ms. Luna asks to talk to my mother. “She can’t. She’s driving.” She asks to go on speaker phone. “Okay, well we’re at the clinic now, so I’ll call you back later.” And I hang up quickly before she can ask anything else. “Bye-bye Ms. Nightmare.”
“Ain’t that an understatement.” His drawl is really deep. It reminds me of a saxophone sometimes. He has his hands on the stick shift and I can see the veins underneath his ruby skin. I lift his phone to sneak a picture and he catches me by flashing a smile. His teeth aren’t as bone straight and perfect like Blaze. He has long canines, uneven incisors, off-white all around. It shows his imperfections, it makes him human, and not just this amazing pillar of the community who’s gonna take me to the big leagues one day. “Whatcha doing over there, little lady?” He forces an exaggerated cowboy accent, playfully tips his hat, before putting it on my head. My heart is fluttering like a fucking hummingbird, and it’s so stupid, but I like how he makes me feel this way.
“Nothing. Just getting the angle right for your album cover.” I sneak another photo, but I now put my bare feet on his lap. My skirt reels up and he steals a glance at my boyshorts. They are actual boy underwear since they are the least sexiest thing ever. No laces, no frilly bows, or stupid cute bunnies. Just a solid, boring old red. They ride up my buttcrack just the same as panties though, but the front has extra space, so I don’t mind the wedgie.
“AJ don’t even wear those.” He pinches the meat of my thigh, bites his lip.
I giggle like I’m in preschool. “How do you know what your sister’s underwear looks like?” I playfully joke, and he gives me this knowing look with that cocky smirk of his.
I sit up a bit to force him to elaborate, but he quickly changes the subject. “So what we up to on Friday? You gonna be my plus one, or is this bull riding solo?”
I take my feet off his lap and rest them on his dashboard instead. “I don’t know…Applejack said they card people at the gate. I probably can’t go if that’s true.”
“It ain’t.” His smile drops. “Don’t know why she went and told ya that.” That doesn’t make sense since AJ can’t lie, but also Mac wouldn’t lie about this either. He looks equally confused about this, and I’m at loss for words.
His eyes are on the road now. We get on the highway and he’s going pretty fast. We merge behind a truck with two twin dweebs in bow ties and barbershop shirts holding up a bottle of hard cider. “Good shit right there.” He’s pointing at the truck with all four fingers.
“The cider?” I ask.
“Ciders shit, but folks ain’t buying that from them.” Then he chuckles to himself, laughs about something I don’t know, and he won’t tell me more.
I open his gallery app to see the pictures I took, and there’s an album with no name but a peach emoji. I can see the most recent picture is AJ just from the blotches of colors, but it’s too small to really make the photo out. The album has over a hundred photos, which I mean, it’s a lot for a guy who barely takes pics. Before I tap on it, he snatches his phone away. It’s shoved in his pocket since he drives with only one hand on the wheel.
We sit in silence for a while. It’s, like, really awkward.
The cars are all just passing us by at high speed, and my eyes are watching them like a dog with a bone. They’re blurs, lines of color. I watch them. He’s kinda scary when he gets quiet, and I really don’t want to feel, like, scared of him. It’s my fault I know that. I know I shouldn’t have been so nosy. I bite on my nails unsure if I should apologize or not. I don’t feel like I did anything wrong, so I just say, “yeah, I wanna go to the concert with you tomorrow.” And I take my feet off the dashboard and sit up straight.
He caresses my cheek, his way of forgiving me, I guess. “Good. We gon have to fix that haircut first, though.” I kinda don’t want to, but I also really want to make him happy, so I nod and agree.