Significance by Shelly Crane

chance of you getting all silly over him because he’d keep you at arms length. Everyone always knew he was leaving, everyone but you. But this boy, he is not safe.” He looked over at Caleb. “She is still a minor and I’m not thrilled about you taking her out.”
    “I understand, sir. I promise you I’m not up to any trouble,” Caleb answered respectfully.
    “Dad, if I’m old enough to work almost full time and go to school in clothes that I paid for all by myself, I think old enough to go on a date and know to be careful and come home at a reasonable hour.”
    His face went pale and he nodded sadly.
    “I guess you’re right. We’ll talk later.”
    He walked off into the kitchen and I saw the light turn out as he made his way through the house. I was astounded. What just happened?
    I looked at Caleb and felt the need to explain. I’d told him earlier that my dad was docile and uncaring but now he was all about my every move.
    “I understand,” Caleb said. “I feel how confused you are. It’s fine. Maybe he’s just waking up. I told you it probably wouldn’t last forever.”
    “Yeah. But why now? Why when I’m gonna need-” I stopped myself from saying anything else.
    “I know. I need you too.” He came and hugged me to him, making sure to touch his palm to my arm so as to get skin contact, to take my troubles away. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. In the mean time are ready to go?”
    “Yes,” I said, pushing away the weirdness. “I’m sorry about Beck. She’s a little quirky.”
    “It’s fine. My best friend is pretty quirky too. Vic. He’s pretty much insane.”
    I followed him out to his car...only it wasn’t a car. It was a motorcycle, a sleek, black Yamaha.
    “I thought you said...” Convertible. Oh. I get it. “Ha ha.”
    He grinned and laughed.
    “Hey, I didn’t lie. This is as convertible as you can get.”
    “I guess I have to agree with that,” I said laughing.
    “Ok. First things first.” He grabbed my bag and put it in the compartment under the seat. “This won’t do.” He motioned to my dress and lifted his seat again to pull out a jacket. He placed it around me and pulled the zipper up.
    “It’s pretty warm out,” I said mildly, wondering why he thought I needed a jacket on May.
    “Not on the back of a bike it’s not.”
    “If you say so.”
    “Here,” he came and put a small black helmet on my head, buckling it under my chin. “Now you can keep that pretty head all nice and in one piece.”
    “And where’s yours?”
    “Right here.” He pulled one off the handlebars and put it on. He climbed on and looked back at me expectantly. He flipped a switch on his bike and I could hear him in my ear in the helmet, “One leg at a time.”
    I sighed and climbed on behind him. I settled myself close to him as I could get. Ours legs lined up and touching all the way down. I blew a breath to steady myself and tried to play off my shakiness as anxiety about the ride instead of being so close to him.
    “I have never ridden a motorcycle before.”
    “I assumed as much so I promise to take it easy on you; this time.”
    I heard him laugh as he cranked up the beast. I got queasy as I could feel it’s every rumble. I dreaded this ride now, for more than one reason and wondered if there was some way to back out of it. I thought I was trembling but couldn’t tell.
    His hand came back to pat my bare knee, easing and soothing me.
    “It’ll be fine. I promise you’ll love it.”
    “I’m ok.” I lifted my feet to rest of the foot props. “I’m ready.”
    “Arms around me,” he ordered. “And hold on tight.”
    I did as he said and leaned against his back as my arms hugged his midsection. I smiled at how comfortable it was. I felt him swirl his hand once on my knee before grasping the handlebars and slowly pulling away from my house. Then my street. Then my town.
     

Eight
     
     
     
    The helmet did an okay job of shielding my hair from most of the wind.