Free Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards by Janette Rallison Page B

surprised by his visit.
    “Is Elise around?” he asked.
    “No. She’s probably still at her locker.”
    “Good. I wanted to talk to you alone.”
    “Oh?” My gaze went to him. He was leaning up against my locker in all his senior-guy studliness. Seriously, the guy had biceps. I wondered where he worked out since he didn’t do sports.
    “I wanted to talk to you about Elise.”
    “Oh.” This shouldn’t have disappointed me, but still did.
    “How has she been acting at school? I mean, she’s not skipping class and drinking, is she?”
    “I don’t think so. Why?”
    He didn’t look at me. He was scanning the hallways watching for her. “She’s been good at home, too. I can’t figure it out. She hasn’t challenged my parents’ authority in days.”
    “Maybe she’s turning over a new leaf.”
    “Or working on a new con. She’s quite an actress when she wants to be.” His gaze flickered to me. “You’d tell me if you knew she was up to something, wouldn’t you?”
    “Sure.”
    “She’s never kept her partying a secret before, but maybe her tactics are changing.” He looked past me and on down the hallway. “Elise is coming. Pretend we’re talking about something else.”
    “What?”
    He didn’t answer me. He just leapt into a conversation about one of his teachers—I wasn’t sure which one. I nodded and tried to keep from doing something stupid—like giggling.
    If Elise thought it was strange that Josh was at my locker, she didn’t show it. “There you are,” she said.
    He straightened. “Are you ready to go?”
    As we walked out of the building, I wondered which of the two was really the better actor.

    * * *
On Friday I turned sixteen. My friends came over and we ate pizza, sang karaoke, and made silly videos—mockumentaries of our lives as rock stars.
    All day Elise had kept saying, “You’ll probably get a car for your birthday. When parents only have one kid, they always buy expensive presents.” But Mom and Dad gave me a new iPod. As I opened it, Dad said, “This is really a present for us. Now we don’t have to listen to that awful music of yours.”
    My cake, however, was in the shape of a car. Mom handed me a knife and said, “You can destroy this one. But if you so much as put a scratch on mine, you’ll be walking until you’re eighteen.”
    “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I won’t touch your cake.”
    Then all my friends chimed in and asked when I was going to take my driver’s test.
    “I’m not sure. I’ll get to it sometime this week.”
    Actually, I was going on Monday, but I didn’t want to tell them in case I didn’t pass the test. I couldn’t imagine having to tell everyone I’d failed.
    Caitlin said, “You have to take us out for a victory ride as soon as you get your license.” Then Elise sang, “She’ll have fun-fun-fun ‘till her Daddy takes the T-Bird away,” only she changed “T-Bird” to “Accord.”
    I laughed along with everybody else, but in my mind I could already see myself behind the wheel. Independent. In control. A license was the first step to adulthood.
    On Monday I went down to the DMV for my driving test, completely confident. I’d put in hours and hours of practice. I could paral ell park perfectly. I could three-point turn without a hitch. I was completeness itself on all of my stops.
    At the Division of Motor Vehicles, I was assigned Mr. Jensen as my tester. He was about sixty years old and looked devoid of any emotion except a general distaste of teenagers. I smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. We got into the car and I pulled into the street.
    His sour mood made me feel nervous. Without thinking I said, “So, how does one end up with a dangerous job like this?” And then, a little faster, I added, “Not that I’m implying I’m a dangerous driver. I’m actually very safe.” He grunted and said something that sounded like, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
    “I just meant you don’t have to worry that your