Traffic, as usual, is a nightmare, and by the time I make it to the school, kids are already walking out to buses and waiting cars. I pull off to the side and Harlow spots me easily. It’s not easy to miss my mint colored car.
She tumbles into the car, all awkward legs and flailing arms, and stuffs her backpack into the back.
Sliding her seatbelt into place, she says, “We could make it to Santa Barbara in two hours—maybe make that three with traffic—Mom and Dad probably wouldn’t even miss us.”
I snort. “What’s in Santa Barbara?”
She shrugs as I make a U-turn out of the lot. “No idea, but at least it’d be different scenery.”
“Well, we’re not doing that. I’m sure it’d be considered kidnapping.”
“I’m your sister, not some kid you nabbed out of the parking lot.”
“Regardless, it’s not happening.”
She sighs and kicks her feet up on the dashboard. “You know what you are?”
“No, enlighten me.”
“A ruiner of fun.”
“Is that even a word?”
“If it’s not, I made it one.” She smiles beatifically over at me.
“Some days, I’m convinced someone left you on our doorstep and Mom and Dad decided to keep you.”
She laughs. “Good one.”
“Thank you, I thought so myself. I’m swinging by the grocery store. I need to make dinner and haven’t been to the store in over a week, the refrigerator is pretty barren at the moment.”
I make dinner most nights. Cooking is something I enjoy, and I love trying new recipes. It makes me feel good, too, that my mom can come home from work and not worry about making a meal—because Lord knows my dad definitely isn’t going to worry about making dinner. Or breakfast. Or even his lunch. When it comes to anything food related he stays far, far, far away—unless it’s popcorn. He loves making homemade popcorn.
“Sounds good to me. It’s nice to get out instead of going straight home even if it is the grocery store. Are you going to the one with Starbucks in it?”
I nod.
“Sweet. Even better.”
The grocery store parking lot is packed. I end up having to park at the very back. Harlow skips and twirls through the lot and into the store, while I shake my head. As much as I give her shit for it, I love her carefree and happy attitude. She lets things roll off of her and takes nothing to heart.
Inside, she runs straight to the Starbucks at the front while I grab a cart. I stroll through the store and it isn’t long until she joins me and hops onto the front of the cart, holding on with one hand, her iced coffee in the other.
I stop the cart in the middle of the aisle. “Harlow,” I hiss, “get off of there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fun. Ruiner.”
She then swings her leg up and over into the cart and hops inside.
My jaw drops. “Where am I supposed to put my stuff?”
“Around me,” she replies, drawing her legs up to her chest.
I laugh and shake my head. “Are you sure you’re not five?”
“Nope, fifteen through and through.” She wraps her lips around her straw and takes a long sip, eyeing me.
“All right then.”