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He twisted the keys, and the Corolla tried to cough to life. It made a wheezing grinding sound, and then almost sighed, as all the interior lights that had turned on went dark.

Darius hit his hand on the steering wheel. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The battery’s dead.”

“Maybe you should spend less money on comic books and more money on car maintenance.”

“Says the person bumming a ride,” he said, getting out.

“Where are you going?”

“To go ask Burton for a jump. There’s cables in the trunk—pull them out for me?” He reached for a lever beside his steering wheel and I heard a metallic thunk. Then he stepped out of his car and stalked back into the Shax.

I got out, hunching down so the rain wouldn’t run into my collar, and popped the trunk of his car. It had a spare tire and a set of jumper cables and a soccer ball. No duct tape. No tarps. No guns. For all the military-shit and glower, Darius did not have active school shooter status. I had the cables by the front of the car when Darius returned.

“This happen often?”

“Often enough.”

“How much does a new battery cost?”

“More than I’m currently willing to spend.”

“I thought you had a lot of money.”

“What, from working here?” he said as he leaned in and clamped the jumper cables on.

“No. From the, uh,” I tried to make a hand gesture like I was both holding and lightning bong when I’d never seen one in real life.

He gave me the look that my gestures deserved. “I’ve got overhead.”

“So what now?” I asked. The rain had let up a little, I could safely stand straight now.

“Now, we wait till Burton brings his Kia over.”

I couldn’t decide what’d look weirder, hanging by Darius’s side, or sitting inside his car like I belonged there. And as Burton got out of his car, I realized it wouldn’t have mattered where I waited.

“You two a thing?” he asked, gesturing between us. I couldn’t tell what he found more disturbing, that anyone found a girl as troublesome as me worth dating, or that Darius had netted someone willing to date him, skipping ahead in line.

“No,” Darius and I both said at the same time.

“Huh. Well.” Burton made a confused face at us, then popped the hood of his own car and lassoed the jumper cables over.

Burton’s car might as well’ve been called the Bisonmobile, with the number of bumper stickers for assorted sports factions it had on it. I’d noticed it in the parking lot before, I just hadn’t put two and two together till now. He was only a couple years older than us, and clearly he hadn’t moved on.

Darius and Burton both ducked inside their cars and turned on engines, and Darius’s car was having none of it. After five minutes of attempting to get it to turn over, he got out and cursed.

“You have Triple A?” Burton shouted through his window. Darius gave him a look, as he got out.

“Sorry, man. You can leave your car here overnight if you need to.”

“Thanks.”

“Need a ride?” Burton said.

“Nah, I’ll call my uncle.”