Free Cubanita by Gaby Triana Page B

remember to turn on their lights when going down Tamiami Trail. And then they wonder why oncoming cars don’t see them when they pass. My windshield wipers arealready swishing on high.
    What do I do about Susy? Nothing, I guess. She’ll have to get over it. What about Andrew? I really like him, but I hope I’m not falling for him. That would only make things worse. What have I gotten into? It’s like I’ve fallen into a trap, but the trap is a wonderful green land with lots of bubbling brooks, mango trees, and sunflowers. Okay, scratch the sunflowers. They make me sneeze.
    I get to 147th Avenue with no problems. Except, the driver of an eighteen-wheeler next to me is either blind or extremely high, because suddenly he moves right into my lane, practically scraping my sideview mirror.
    â€œGod damn!” I swerve off the road to avoid getting crushed. My truck drops off the soft shoulder and into a shallow ditch, just barely missing one of those concrete barricades. The stupid truck continues on like nothing happened!
    â€œ ¡Me cago en tu madre! ¡Hijo de puta!”
    Fabulous, this is just the best day ever. This is exactly why I always pester Mom for my own cell phone—in case of emergencies. But no, she said, I would only use it to talk to friends at inappropriate times, like school, or work, or God forbid, in an actual emergency! Now I’ll have to wait here for the rain to stop so I can walk to Publix on 137th Avenue to use the phone.
    â€œThis sucks!” I don’t think there’s any damage, but still, my hands are shaking and my stomach hurts. Now Mami will find out what happened and get on my case even more. As it is, she’s about to beg me to stay at the end of the summer, Ijust know it. And there’s no way I’m staying in Miami.
    You know the best part about this city? The way the traffic whooshes by, ignoring the truck sitting here in the rain, in a ditch, with its hazards on. Oh, would you look at that, a driver in need of assistance. I sure hope someone comes to help her soon. Bye-bye! And there they go. Thanks a lot, people!
    Oh wait, someone’s here. I see the lights bounce up behind me, and the car makes its way over the bumpy ground. In the rearview mirror I see it’s a white 4Runner. Ha, Andrew. Now why does that not surprise me?
    A bright orange–sheathed body gets out of the car and jogs over to my passenger side. I click the door open.
    He gets in, pulling back the hood of his Hurricanes poncho, water droplets sliding and soaking into the seats. “Need help, ma’am?”
    Great rescue! Way better than AAA.
    â€œHey!” Yes, I know…clever reply.
    â€œGood thing there’s only one road out of camp.”
    â€œYeah, and another good thing that you left after I did, or you wouldn’t have seen me. Can you believe what happened?” I recount the story of the rain, the eighteen-wheeler, and how happy I am to have plummeted into a shallow area and not off any one of Miami’s dozens of bridges.
    â€œWow, what an idiot. He was probably drunk off his ass.”
    â€œNo kidding. How the hell am I going to get out of here?”
    â€œYou’ll need a tow truck,” he says, looking back at his car. “I have my phone. Be right back.”
    He runs out to retrieve his cell. I feel so stupid, a damsel in distress. As I’m waiting for him to come back, I see another party has arrived. Florida Highway Patrol, blue lights circling silently. Great. Girl gets run off the road, sits in a ditch like a dork, while men save her helpless butt.
    She gets out. A woman officer. Why did I assume it would be a guy? She knocks on Andrew’s window, he lowers it, and I see them talking. He points, he smiles. She looks around, she smiles. A moment later Andrew is running back this way.
    He rushes in and slams the door. “Okay, I called a tow truck. She’s gonna wait with us until they get here. See?