In the Blood by Sara Hantz Page B

natural.
    “I’m your friend, and I’m concerned. What’s wrong with that? Why are you being so mean?” She takes a step toward me and rests her hand on mine. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots up my arm, and I jump back. Why does her touch do this to me? Rhetorical question. I know why. But I can’t get sucked back into my feelings for her. I’ve gotta keep a distance. However hard it is.
    “You want to know?” I snap, my heart pounding relentlessly in my ears. “You really want to know?” I narrow my eyes, projecting all the anger I feel in her direction. Except the anger I feel is with myself for putting Summer in the position where she feels sorry for me. I know she helped me and Amy before, but that’s it. I don’t need her now, and I definitely don’t need her pity. Pity’s for losers.
    “Of course,” she says, nodding her head encouragingly, though she does take a tiny step backward.
    She’s not so sure of herself now. And how bad does that make me feel?
    I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. “You talk about my future like I have some say in its direction. Like if I study hard and go to school, the world is there for me. It’s not.” My voice gets louder with every word I utter. “It’s fucking not. And never will be. There’s nothing out there for me other than to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
    “Don’t say that, Jed. You’re not going to follow in his footsteps; you’re nothing like him. At least not down deep, which is where it counts.” She draws in a breath and smiles nervously.
    Tempting as it is to explain everything, to silence her once and for all, I think better of it. It will only make her more determined to interfere in my life. And I’ve already resolved not to make anyone care about me. It will only lead to more hurt if things turn out how I think they will. I’m best left alone to look out for myself. The past is long gone, and however much I want to change it, I can’t. Not now. Not ever.
    “Summer, you’re talking crap. Leave me alone, I’m busy.”
    Beads of sweat form on my brow, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I don’t know why. The last time I looked, it was only about sixty-five degrees. It could be because, in all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never spoken to Summer like this, and I don’t like it.
    “I also wanted to ask you about my car,” Summer says, winding some of her hair tightly around her finger.
    It’s a nervous habit she’s had since she was very young which shows itself when she’s in stressful situations. I’ve never been the cause of her doing it before, and I hate that I am now. But if it means she keeps her distance, it’s gotta be a good thing, hasn’t it?
    “What about your car?” I demand, pushing my guilt at making her so uncomfortable to the back of my mind. I can’t fold now. I’ve got to concentrate on the bigger picture. Which means she has to keep away from me.
    “It started making funny noises this morning. Sort of like a banging sound when I put my foot on the brake pedal.” She makes the noise, and at any other time I’d have laughed at her impression. Now, nothing seems funny.
    “And I need to know this because…?”
    I don’t know how much more I can push this.
    “Because you’re good with cars, and I thought you could check it out for me,” she replies, her voice wobbling.
    I’ve always loved fixing cars for people. I got known for it, and the money I made paid for a new chassis for the Buick. This is the first time I’ve been asked to look at a car in nine months, since Dad’s arrest.
    “I don’t fix cars anymore.” I turn my back on her and pull open the top drawer of my toolbox and start lining up the spanners. Hopefully she’ll get the hint and go.
    “Please,” she implores.
    I spin back around and glare at her. “What, like you can’t afford to take it to a regular garage? Stop, Summer. Stop. I’m not your pet project. Leave me alone