Free Foolproof by Diane Tullson

Chapter One
    I leave work and do up my jacket, not so much because it’s cool out but because I don’t want my uniform to show. I don’t need someone on the bus thinking it’s hilarious to place a burger order with me. In the parking lot, a horn honks. It’s Cyn Hawley in her white Honda Civic. She got an order at my drive-through window earlier. It’s a nice Civic—flat-black hood, front spoiler. And Cyn Hawley is a nice-looking girl. She unrolls her window and leans out. “Want a ride?”
    Cyn’s hair is in a ponytail, and a few dark strands blow loose in the breeze. I look around to see if she’s talking to me. She grins. “Daniel, right? Come on.”
    I walk over to the passenger side and open the door. “Thanks.”
    She moves her pack off the seat so I can get in. The interior is pristine. She says, “I went through your drive-through earlier.”
    “Large coffee with cream and two sugars.” My face gets hot when I realize how lame I must seem to remember exactly what she ordered.
    She laughs and reverses out of the stall. “Bio 12, right?”
    In Bio, Cyn works with a group of girls at the next lab station. I nod. “Worst class ever.” Then I add, “Not because of you.” My face feels like it is bright red.
    “Because of the nearly pervy Mr. Hetherington. That guy likes his latex gloves.”
    I laugh. “I haven’t finished even one of his totally obscure lab experiments.”
    She merges onto Main, shifting smoothly through the gears. She’s wearing tights that stretch smoothly over her thighs. I say, “I’m on the other side of the school, past the park. It’s kind of far.”
    She waves her hand. She’s wearing nail polish the color of amber sea glass. “I’ve got no place to be.” She moves around a slow-moving truck, gearing down and touching the gas. The car responds.
    “Whoa. This thing has some guts.”
    She glances at me. “You drive?”
    “I have my license. No car though.”
    “Did you get the one with the extra ID ? The one you can use at the border without a passport?”
    I nod. Living right on the border, I think everyone in this town gets the enhanced license. “My sister told me to get it so I don’t need a passport to go across the line. She lets me use her car sometimes, but I’ve got to put gas in it. Gas is so much cheaper across the line. With the enhanced license, you can just go.”
    “Yup. I always go across for gas.” She gets a dreamy look on her face. “And Malabar.”
    “Huh?”
    “You’ve never had a Malabar?”
    I shake my head.
    She says, “So much to learn. It’s only the best chocolate in the world. Not easy to get though.”
    “My mom is making a soup for tonight that has chocolate in it. She’s made it before. It sounds wrong, but it’s really good.”
    “Like, for supper?”
    “Yes. It’s got black beans and peppers.”
    “And chocolate. Mmm, that sounds amazing.”
    “You should come.”
    The words were out before I could stop them. Why would Cyn want to eat with me and my family? I can barely look at her, in case she’s rolling her eyes. I say, “Of course, you don’t have to. I mean, it is short notice. And my family is nuts. My sister and her kid live with us. You probably have plans.”
    But she says, “I would love to.”
    The way she says it, it’s like she really means it. I send a quick text to Mom, asking if I can bring someone. Her message back is just XOXO , her generic yes. I give Cyn directions to our street. We drive past the school, then Meridian Park. Police tape still dangles from a few trees. There was a shooting there last week—some minor gangster guy, not even that old. Normally, people from school use that parking lot because the few spots in front of the school are reserved for staff. Last week everyone had to park on the street.
    We get to my building, and as we climb the stairs I think about the uniform I’m wearing. Maybe I can keep my jacket on. I open our door, and Livy launches herself off the couch,