Camilla's birthday was a success, with several girls from school, apart from our friend's group, showing up.
We talked all evening about school, boys, and other topics. When I saw that Lucy didn't seem so upset anymore, I snuck a little bit of information about the accident that had happened that morning. Most of the girls didn't know and were intrigued, so I told them about what I had seen on the street and what Zack and I had seen on video.
"I always wondered about that place," one of the girls, Jannine, said. "Must be very noisy."
"Vernon?" I asked, and she nodded. "Not always. It depends on the hour. Sometimes in the evening, things calm down, and you can listen to the trains in the distance, which is rather nice."
"Are you going to watch the evening news to see if it shows up? The crash, I mean?" Lola asked, curious.
"I probably will," I told her.
And, in fact, I did.
As the party ended and I went back home, I sat with Dad on the couch to watch the news for the first time in years. I used to watch them with him when I was much smaller, before my social life became so busy. As I sat down with Dad, I offered him a piece of cake on a paper plate and a small fork.
"How was the party? Fun?" Dad asked me as he took the cake and the fork.
"It went fine. I ate a lot," I told him, but I was more focused on seeing if news about the accident showed up.
My father smiled and stood quietly, watching the screen while eating his cake. After a few reports on the daily traffic and one on a shooting around Koreatown, I finally catch a glimpse of Vernon on the screen.
"Listen, there it is!" I said, excited, pointing at the screen.
We listened carefully as the newscaster began talking about the accident, mainly about details I already knew. They even showed the footage of another camera around the same area, showing the crash in blurry, slow motion. But the camera was way farther than the one in Fruitland, so you could only see a dot crash against a pole in the distance, not leaving the opportunity to see if there was another car.
But that wouldn't be necessary. A few seconds later, the newscaster referred to the crash as an incident that the police were investigating related to illegal racing circles developing around L.A, an idea that intrigued me.
Finally, the last thing to be said was that the Vernon police, along with the L.A.P.D., also related the crash to another vehicular incident from days before, around the neighborhood of Central Alameda. The excitement of getting new information kept me up that night. But I forced myself to fall asleep as I had promised Zack I would arrive early the following day.
I finally woke up around nine that Saturday.
I used the first couple of hours that morning to do as many chores as I could. I ate my breakfast while I cleaned and vacuumed the living room thoroughly, then proceeded to make my bed and clean my bedroom after I had showered.
I quickly tied my hair in a bun, put on underwear, some shorts, and a hoodie, and walked to the kitchen to take the garbage out.
"Look at you, in a hurry," Mom said as she began taking food out of the fridge. "Are you going somewhere?"
I quickly took the garbage out and nodded at her as I walked back into the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'm going out," I said.
"Where are you going?" She asked while taking a piece of chicken from the refrigerator and placing it on a wooden chopping board on the kitchen counter.
"I'm going to the shop," I said, opening the fridge after her and pulling a small piece of cake wrapped in plastic wrap several times to indicate it couldn't be touched by anyone.
"This early? It's not even noon," Mom said, cutting the plastic chicken packaging with some old kitchen scissors.
"I know," I said, putting the cake inside a small plastic bag, "but I promised Zack I would come early today, as I couldn't spend time with him yesterday because of Camilla's birthday."
Mom turned, looking at me with this funny expression, half a smirk and a smile. She crossed her arms, looking quite intrigued.
"You seem quite attached to that boy," she said.
I stared at her and blushed a little.
"I like him," I said, then shrugged, "he's my friend."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Is that all?" She asked, smiling coyly.
"At least for now," I thought.
Still, I didn't say anything. I just shrugged again and took the little bag back to my room before Mom noticed me blushing even harder, which was not hard as the pink couldn't hide under my pale skin, even with my many freckles.
I left home around eleven and arrived quickly at the shop.
I walked right into the small building, thinking Zack would be there, but he wasn't. So I stepped out the side door and waved at my dad, who was installing new headlights on the Thunderbird. He was surprised to see me as I hadn't told him about it.
"Baby, why are you here so early?" Dad asked.
"Came to see Zack," I said. "Brought him some cake."
"Oh, so that's why there was an extra piece," he said, then added while locking one of the headlights into place. "Well, he's not here, and neither is his dad."
"What? Where are they?" I asked, worried that maybe he and his father had gone somewhere without texting me first.
"Zack hasn't come in yet, so he's probably still back at his house, and Cam went to pick up the glass pieces he commissioned for the round windows," Dad told me, cleaning the headlight with a rag.
I placed my hand on my chest and sighed in relief.
"Dad, you scared me," I told him, and he frowned, confused.
"I'll then go see him at his house," I said and turned away.
But before I could walk away from my dad, he whistled softly, making me turn back around.
"Tammy," he said in a more serious tone. "If he doesn't answer the door after you knock, don't knock again and again. The boy is probably sleeping."
"I know that," I softly responded, a bit embarrassed, as he knew it was a thing I did from time to time.
What can I say? I was an annoying little kid.
"If he doesn't answer, I'll just come back here and wait," I promised him.
He then let me go and went back to work.
A few minutes later, I walked past the cars in the parking lot and up the little stairs of the Vintons' home.
I knocked once, just like Dad had told me, but loud enough to ensure that if Zack was home, he would listen to it. I then waited with the cake in my hands, concerned that he would still be asleep and that I would have wasted my time arriving too early.
But thankfully, it was not the case, and after a few minutes, Zack opened the front door and smiled as he realized it was me.
I said nothing, but I noticed he was wearing a pair of pajama shorts and nothing else. It was early morning and a pretty hot day, but I was still surprised to see him like that. The sight was nice. Zack was a cute boy with kind of a scrawny body. I blushed a little and tried not to stare at his boyish chest.
"Hi!" He said, chewing on something that sounded crunchy, probably cereal. "You said you'd be early, but I didn't think you would be this early."
"Well, I'm here now," I said, focusing on his face. "And I brought you some cake. Can I come in?" I asked, to which he agreed and moved away from the door.
The Vintons' house was just like I imagined it. The small but quaint home of two men who lived on their own. I thought their home would be humble regarding its decor, as most men never over-decorate, but it would have maybe an inkling of the retro style that Mr. Vinton seemed to love.
And it did.
All the furniture, the couch, the coffee table, and the side tables, had a mid-century style. They even owned an old-timey TV. The walls were cream and mostly empty, except for some framed posters and an old mint-green plastic clock.
The floor was wood and covered by a large, thin, dark green rug under the coffee table. The type of green that reminded me of my father's favorite car. In the back of the living room wall was a large bookshelf with books, old records, and some plastic plants.
As I walked closer to the coffee table, I saw what food Zack had been enjoying. A large bowl of milk and cereal stood on the table's edge, with a large spoon next to it.
"You were eating breakfast," I said, looking at Zack, who nodded and stood beside me, rubbing his arm with his hand.
"Yeah, you caught me on my morning break. I was watching some old movies on the DVD player when you knocked," he smirked at me, raising his hand to point at the TV.
I looked at it and noticed the old DVD player under the old TV stand. I smiled and glanced at him.
"Do you guys still have DVDs?" I asked, curious about the reason. "Why? Don't you guys have streaming services?"
"Yeah, but I still use it sometimes to watch old movies I used to watch when I was a kid," he told me, sounding a bit embarrassed, then looked at the cake in my hands.
"Is that supposed to be for me?"
"Yeah..." I said, at first offering him the paper plate, but then I pulled away a little, remembering that he was eating cereal.
"I see you are eating cereal. Do you want me to put it in your fridge instead?" I said, pointing to the fridge.
"No, it's okay, I kinda want cake," he said, shrugging. "We can share it if you like."
I was going to refuse as I had already eaten cake the day before, but I nodded in agreement as I saw how sincere he was with his offer.
"Okay," I told him. "We'll have some cake while we watch movies."
His eyes lit up, and he smiled, walking awkwardly towards the couch.
I walked to the kitchen, unwrapped the cake, and took a few forks and dishes from the rack. Then, I walked back to Zack as he sat back on the couch and turned the TV and DVD player on.
He seemed to have been watching a car movie with Angelina Jolie and Nicholas Cage. I sat on the other side of the couch, placing the two pieces of cake on the coffee table. Zack then asked me if I wanted to start the movie again, as it was close to ending.
I told him it was okay if we just kept watching it from that point on, as I interrupted him and didn't want to be a bother.
"Okay. But after we finish this, we are watching another one," Zack said, "It has Ryan Gosling on it. Girls like him, don't they?"
The way he asked me made me feel he was more than making a general assertion; he was inquiring about my personal tastes. I think he wanted to know if I liked men like that, tall and blonde.
"He's alright," I responded, pretending to sound disinterested.
He then looked away and smiled a bit, satisfied by my answer.
So we continued watching the Nic Cage movie, which was fun, although I was having much more fun watching Zack eat out of that big cereal bowl. It was like watching a little kid eat, especially with that big spoon. Sometimes, the milk spilled down the edges of his mouth as he swallowed the cereal in a rush.
I wondered if the rush was because he really wanted to eat the cake or if he had become accustomed to eating that way. Even though it was pretty sloppy, I still found it kinda endearing. He was just being himself with me, unafraid of what I might think.
"Does he trust me like that?" I asked myself as I slowly ate the piece of cake he had decided to share with me.
After he was done with the cereal, Zack got up from the couch, the movie still going on the TV and I heard him place the bowl on the sink, letting the water run. He quickly washed the bowl and spoon and came back to finally get his cake, which he began eating with happy noms.
After a few minutes, the movie finally ended, and Zack put his plate down again and moved to the DVD player to take the disc out.
As he was putting the disc back on its case, we suddenly heard the sound of keys, and we turned to see Mr. Vinton open the front door. He looked very nice that morning, not wearing his usual overalls. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a lovely grey shirt, and a leather jacket.
He looked surprised to see me, but still waved at me.
"Hello Tammy, it's nice to see you! What are you doing here so early in the morning?" he asked me as he walked in, carrying two large bags, one paper and one plastic.
"I just came to see Zack and brought him some cake from the birthday I went to yesterday," I said as he moved to the kitchen and put the paper bag on the table.
"Isn't that nice?" He said without looking.
Zack then told his dad that we were going to watch a movie, and he asked which one. The boy then told him, and he nodded, saying how nice that was. But as he turned his head to see Zack, who was just standing up from putting the new movie on, his smile suddenly faded, and he stood there, blinking incredulously.
Zack and I looked at each other nervously.
"Are you... Are you in your PJs, boy?" Mr. Vinton asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes?" Zack said, looking at himself and then at his father. "Why?"
His father initially said nothing but looked at him with wide-open eyes, which showed shock and embarrassment. He then pointed at me and lifted his hands.
"What are you doing, dude?" He asked his son. "There's a lady present."
"I... I don't mind," I said, trying to diffuse the situation.
"Boy, you better go get a shirt or something, Jesus Christ!" Mr. Vinton exclaimed, looking at Zack with the indignation of a disappointed father.
I could see Zack knew his dad wasn't really angry with him, as he didn't take him too seriously, rolling his eyes and turning away.
"Okay, sorry, sorry," he groaned, annoyed as he walked away, probably on his way to his room to get some clothes.
His father sighed and shook his head, apologizing to me again. I smiled at him and told him it was alright, nothing to worry about.
"So, Mr. Vinton, did you hear about the accident in Fruitland?" I then asked him, trying to move from the situation.
"Yeah, I heard. It seems there's illegal racing happening in Vernon," he said, moving away from the kitchen and into the living room. "Never thought of that, but it kinda makes sense as Vernon gets pretty empty at some hours."
"Isn't it weird that it seems it began all of a sudden?" I asked.
"It is, but things get weird around L.A," he said, shrugging. "I just hope they don't end up racing around busy hours. It could get really dangerous."
"Yeah, I mean, an accident already happened."
"Exactly," He said.
"Is this okay?" Zack asked as he came out wearing an oversized blue shirt.
"Much better, now you look like a decent boy," his father said. "Now you can finish putting the movie on. I have to go back to the shop."
"Are those the pieces of window glass for the car?" I asked him, pointing at the plastic bag he was carrying. He looked at it and nodded.
"Yep. Just got them."
"Cool," I said. "Well, hopefully, they fit."
Mr. Vinton laughed softly and said he hoped so, too.
He then opened the door and the small gate of his house and walked out as Zack plopped back on the couch next to me. I turned to the boy and smiled at him, chuckling.
"What?" He asked, smiling, confused.
"Nothing," I told him, shaking my head and picking up my last piece of cake, "just put on the movie."
So he did.
I have never had an "experience" with a movie. I usually liked them or not. But as I began watching the movie Zack put on, I started to experience something. It wasn't the attraction to the protagonist or adrenaline regarding the action and violence. It was something more. A feeling of "understanding" myself by looking at the world of another.
Even if the silent driver and I had nothing in common, not gender, age, or even hair color, I felt a certain camaraderie with his ideas and goals.
As the movie ended and I saw him drive into the night, I sat there on the couch, very quiet, as thoughts played in my brain. Zack got up from the sofa and walked to the DVD player. As he finished turning the DVD and TV off, he turned to me to ask if I was okay. He was probably curious why I was saying nothing.
"Uh?" I asked, lifting my head, distracted.
"Did you like the movie?" He asked, "Or was it too violent?"
"Nah, it was okay," I said, trying to soothe his worry. "I'm just thinking about..."
"About what?" He asked after a few seconds had gone by.
"How cool he was," I said, looking away, as I thought it might sound stupid.
"The driver? Yeah, he's really cool. That's why I like the movie," Zack said, walking back to the couch. He sat beside me and placed his hands on his stomach, looking at me with warm, dark eyes.
"Would you do it?" I then asked. "Stunts, I mean? For cars? Be that type of driver?"
"I would love to!" Zack told me, genuine excitement on his face, "I could totally see myself as a stunt or gateway driver. But my dad would kill me."
He rolled his eyes and smiled.
"Yeah, mine too," I told him, grinning back.
My parents always assumed I would become a nurse or something like that. But a stunt double? No way, Jose.
But the thrill of speed didn't sound that bad. It sounded pretty neat, actually.
I abruptly felt the soft touch of skin against my hand and looked down to see Zack's hand rubbing against mine. I frowned a bit, confused. I think he was trying to touch me without really going for it, and grab my hand. It was awkward, but I let him do it as it felt strangely nice.
"So...," Zack whispered, "how is your driving going? I mean, you are getting your license next week, right?"
"Yeah. I'm doing okay, I guess. Practicing, reading manuals, and all that stuff," I told him. "I am a bit nervous about the test, though."
"My dad tells me you practice with your dad every Sunday, right?" He then asked me, interested in my answer.
"And on holidays, yeah. Since I got my permit. We go around and drive for an hour or two. I'm still having problems with parking, but everything else is fine," I said. "Why?"
Zack sighed and looked away for a few seconds, biting his lower lip. He clearly wanted to ask something, but he didn't look so sure.
"Why?" I asked again, hoping he wouldn't keep it to himself.
"Well, I've been taking lessons from my dad recently, and he was going to help me practice tomorrow on Presidents Day," he said, "drive around the neighborhood, you know?"
I nodded and looked at him, trying to get him to tell me what he wanted.
He then blushed and asked in this very tiny voice.
"Do you wanna come?"
He immediately looked at me with sad puppy eyes, hopeful I would say yes. Of course, I wanted to join him and his dad in their little practice. I wanted to spend more time with him, and I was hoping he would ask me to. But I didn't want to look like a creep, so I just smiled and placed my hand on his shoulder.
"Sure," I said, trying not to look too happy about it, although I was screaming on the inside. "I'll tell my dad about it."
"Awesome!" Zack exclaimed and smiled widely, blushing a little.
We spent a bit more time on the couch, then a quarter-to-one hit on the old clock, and told Zack I had to go back home. He sighed, disappointed, but was kind enough to lead me back to the door. I softly kissed him on the cheek, saying goodbye. I then returned to the shop to pick up my bike, feeling like I was floating on clouds.
Back at the shop, I told Dad and Mr. Vinton about the invitation.
"Really?" Mr. Vinton asked, then looked at my dad. "I have no problem, but are you okay with it?"
"Well..." Dad said, thinking about the invitation, while I looked at him with a pleading expression on my face.
"Fine," Dad said after a while, shrugging. Then added. "But I'm coming with you."
So, both men stayed, planning the date as I said goodbye and began riding my bike back home.
The wind kept hitting my face as I rode down Malabar Street.
I imagined I was driving a fast car down the streets of Los Angeles, just like the driver had done in that movie. The car was white, slick, and vintage.
Suddenly, the image of the driver's white car slowly transformed inside my mind into the image of the Thunderbird as it stood inside the shop. The Thunderbird looked much better than it had done days before, with its base painted on, the leather seats ready, and all the lights locked in place.
But still, it made me a bit uncomfortable as it reminded me a little bit of the tragic tale of the Thunderbird's driver.
Then, the movie driver's car returned to my mind, and I smiled again, thinking about a future of speed, adventure, and danger that seemed so far away from reality.
How silly I was.
Soon, I would find out how close all those things were to my future.