* * * *
A very groggyLamar answered the phone just as Stacy was about to hang up and try Ange’s cell. Should’ve called Ange first,he thought. Without preamble he told Lamar, “Come get me.”
Lamar balked. “Stace, now? Do you know—”
“It’s my birthday.” Was that a footstep he heard down the hall? His momma’s door was still shut, but was she out of bed already? “I ain’t going to school today, Lamar, and if you don’t want to drive out here to pick me up then I’ll call Ange.”
“Shit, boy,” Lamar grumbled, but Stacy knew him well enough to know it was only an act. There was an unspoken rivalry between the two friends, and all Stacy had to do to spur Lamar into action was threaten to ask Ange instead. Before he even got the words out, Lamar would be giving in. “Now hold up. I never said I wouldn’t…” Fifteen minutes later tires spun in the gravel drive and Stacy pulled the front door shut behind him quietly before falling into the passenger seat of Lamar’s ‘86 Firebird Trans Am.