The drive with Joan

Joan drove the hand-me-down-est of cars, featuring an impressive collection of dents in the bodywork. They illustrated the family history - various cousins had driven it before her siblings, and after two older sisters and three older brothers had left their marks, she'd finally inherited it. The engine, at least, ran smoothly enough, as long as she didn't go over 60.

"So, posters?" she asked as she drove. Joan kept her long brown hair drawn back in a plait down her back, and she seemed to Connor to be glowing with a fresh tan. Although that might just be her latina heritage, being half Guatemalan.

"Check!" said Connor automatically. He'd finished them the previous afternoon and they were in his locker. "Are you finally happy with your report?"

"More or less," replied Joan, frowning both at the thought of the presentation and at the delivery van she was overtaking. "More or less!"

Connor sighed to himself, or at least thought about doing so. Joan was lovely - his best friend for five years, beautiful with her year round tan, and smart and kind to boot - but if she had one flaw it was her perfectionism. Everything she did had to be perfect, from passing her driving test flawlessly to maintaining valedictorian grades at high school and doing so well in her SAT that she'd had to juggle scholarship offers. Perhaps, he sometimes worried, this was why she was dating him. He was safe - a 135lb dork who was head over heels in love with her and let her play the dominant role in the relationship. She had mentioned she worried about STDs, and wanted to save herself for marriage; which made it just great that he'd not even pushed her for a hand-job yet. On the other hand, he was definitely developing a sex drive these days, between his night time dreams and his waking fantasies. Right now he was appreciatively eyeing the effect of the seatbelt on Joan's cleavage as she drove.

"It'll be fine, don't worry." said Connor. "By the way, I'm sorry if I'm late to the mall tomorrow. Got to see my father."

"Your father!" exclaimed Joan, almost swerving the car - but not actually, since she maintained her perfect hand position on the wheel and didn't turn to look at Connor. "He's in town? I thought he'd left for good after your birthday party? You know, the one with the conjurer..."

"Yeah," sighed Connor, "That was the last time we met. But he calls now and again, and he never said he was getting out of my life. You know?"