Clutch

Giselle Goguen
Sep 3, 2018 · 4 min read

Penny slowed the car once she was past Freely Lake. She’d only been out this far a couple of times before, when she was a kid with her Dad at the wheel. Sunday drives, no particular place to go. The gravel road had turned to dirt a few miles back and the old Tercel bounced off the ruts and craters that were now impossible to avoid. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and geared down into third.

She knew she should probably turn the music down, but it drowned out most of the thumping. Plus, it helped her focus. Finding the right spot would be hard enough in the daytime, but an unfamiliar road in the dead of night would require concentration and, probably, luck. Oh, and calm. She needed to calm the hell down. Her chest ached — feeling both large and stiff — yet she kept forgetting to breathe. Penny forced herself to exhale slowly and steadily into the car’s hot interior as she cranked the music up even louder.

The B52s “Roam.” God, figures. She and Claire had dressed up like the two girl singers for an 80s party last year. The guy Claire was dating at the time and a couple of his friends made up the rest of the group. It was a fun, smart idea. Claire’s, naturally. “You’d have more fun if you danced and, you know, actually bothered to socialize,” Claire shouted over the music before downing another shooter. The teasing stung because it was true: Penny was the girl who watched the purses while Claire danced on tables. The supporting role was one Penny fell into easily and it demanded little of her. And Claire always needed supporting.

She suddenly remembered to look out for animals and she swept her gaze back and forth across the road. The headlights picked out shiny dots peering from the darkness on both sides of the car. Watching her, silent spectators, taking it all in.

Penny had always been watchful, noticing things others missed. She was the one who noticed the guy slipping something in Claire’s drink that night they met. “Thank God you said something to me,” Claire said as they walked to class the next week. “Who knows what that asshole would have done to me?” During the past two years, they’d been inseparable. Which was remarkable, in a way, since Claire would not be an easy friend for most girls: Beautiful, sophisticated, rich. Things came easily for Claire. But Penny had never been jealous and rather enjoyed the perks that came with being Claire’s best friend: Great parties, free vacations and the best hand-me-down clothes. With Claire, Penny had the feeling of being in a valued class, apart from and above where she’d been before they met. It felt good, and Penny appreciated it.

Heavy drops of rain were now hitting the windshield. A complication, but nothing Penny couldn’t handle. It would just be a little messier, that’s all, and a bigger clean-up later. But she’d planned for that. That was something else Claire would tease her about, her penchant toward preparedness and organization. “God, you can suck the spontaneity out of anything!” she’d howl when Penny would insist on bringing jackets or calling ahead or scripting out what she was going to say. Claire always took the details for granted.

Penny had always felt that the supplicant aspects of being in the It Girl’s shadow were balanced out by the fact that she saw Claire for exactly what she was: Incapable of making a go of anything on her own, her father’s credit card and her family’s connections always there to boost her up or catch her fall. Without her money and her name, Claire Hendrix would be just another girl. That knowledge made Penny feel both smug and lacking.

Of course, Claire thought she deserved all her advantages and was entitled to whatever crossed her path. Like Mark. He had texted Penny a couple of hours ago, trying to find Claire.

As the headlights pierced the dark, Penny noticed the rain was easing off. She felt the panic inside her settle into a solid mass that seemed to propel both her and the car forward.

The road was little more than a muddy cow path at this point, so she knew she’d need to stop soon. The steady tightness in her chest twisted another half-turn. The forest opened up a bit and a small clearing revealed itself on the left. Good enough. She pulled over, parked in the tall grass and cut the engine. The thumping stopped.

Penny grabbed the flashlight and stepped out. It was so much cooler out here than in the city. Leaning back against the closed door, she shivered as she took in the sprinkling of stars peeking out through the remaining clouds.

She walked slowly toward the back of the car and unlocked the trunk. Claire winced into the flashlight’s glare, her matted, bloody hair stuck to her face and her body contorted by the rope and the smallness of the trunk. She hummed something urgent through the electrical tape. Angry and pleading at the same time. Entitled but needy. So very Claire.

“We’re here,” Penny said.

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