Page 18 of The Friend Scheme
He seems honest.
But something tells me that murder victims think the same thing before they’re killed.
Jason looks hurt that I don’t fully trust him. I get that. I would probably be pretty offended if someone implied they thought I might be a murderer.
“Seriously,” he says. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sorry I joked. I just know somewhere I think you’ll like. And to get there, we need to drive. We could go to the diner if you want, but trust me, this would be more fun. You in or you out?”
I should move fast, in case Dad looks out and sees me.
I get in the car.
CHAPTER FIVE
Luckily, Jason is a good driver.
Or, he’s at least competent. He’s not, like, swerving all over the road and nearly hitting people, and he’s obeyed every road rule I’ve noticed. He stops at yellow lights, is all I’m saying. It makes me feel a little better about being here.
Despite my nerves, I’m actually having a good time. This section of the city is really pretty, the perfect place for a night drive. We’re surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers and clean, pleasant streets. To my left is a portable traffic sign that reads,ENJOY THE BEACH, KEEP YOUR DRINKS INSIDEin big orange letters.
And it makes me think of something.
“Hey,” I say. “How old are you even?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“I have no idea.”
He smiles. “I turned eighteen last month. You?”
I nod. “Seventeen.”
“Yeah? You look older.”
I don’t know what to think about that. He doesn’t say it like an insult, but…
“I mean that in a good way!” he says. “I don’t mean that you look old or anything. You just look… you know. Older.”
“Oh, cool,” I say. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” He chews his lip. “So… what music do you like?”
My music tastes aren’t exactly cool. And I care about being cool right now.
I can’t even remember the last time I cared about something like this.
“I like alt rock,” I say. “But stuff that’s more on the pop side of things.”
“Sorry, dude, that makes zero sense to me.”
My cheeks are burning. The car is dark, though, so I don’t think he can tell.
At least I hope he can’t tell.
We’ve reached the main strip of the beach now, where the most famous hotels are. This whole street is deigned in this cool, art deco style. People are everywhere. I’m guessing most of them are tourists.
“The Killers are my favorite, but I also really like You Me at Six. That sort of thing.”
He grabs his phone from the slot on the dash and hands it to me. “Play something. Password is four thousand and one.”
