One week, two days and eleven hours and not a second more was the longest anyone has ever held out to date me. Patience to date me barely lasted a week. Girls never thought I cared about them. Texting just made me anxious. Seeing them made me anxious. I liked staying at home. I liked being by myself... but I guess, technically there was some truth beneath the hurt. If I peeled back their Band-Aid, I'd be able to see a neglect-shaped wound. If it weren't true, wouldn't I try harder?

My car hummed all around me as I kept my foot pressed on the brake pedal. I had turned the corner to find Parker and Camille going at it, slapping and mock pushing each other around. Camille gave Parker one hard push, but with Parker's height and overall physique, she picked Camille off the ground as easily as I picked up a heads-up penny on the ground.

I opened my phone and started an appropriate playlist:

1. DVP by Pup

2. What's my age again? by Blink-182

3. Thanks for the memories by Fall Out Boy

4. not ur friend Friends by Jeremy Zucker

5. Etc...

Camille failed to mention anything about Ashley Marie Parker being stranded too.

Parker became Camille's best friend last year to my horror, like making friends with the meanest pimple in the middle of my face. I had always assumed Camille was my best friend, until I saw the way they talked, the way Camille screamed with laughter at Parker's joke and how it didn't matter if I joined their fun or not.

It was lucky to have a cousin my age. It was lucky that our family was close. It was lucky that Camille liked me. I had a friend more instant than microwavable Easy Mac, which was nice for a shy kid like me.

If Camille said Parker would be here, maybe I would've made some excuse not to come. Maybe I would have told Camille that I was too busy sticking my face into a vat of scorpions or waxing my entire body with used strips to bring myself to come. It wasn't that Parker and I hated each other. It was just when I saw her face, her ginger hair and her annoying pretentious hipster clothing, an itch consumed my entire body and I wanted to peel off my skin. I longed to reach for the nearest breakable thing and snap it over my knee. I wanted to spend hours screaming into a pillow before she talked over me or interrupted me again. My heart pounded in her presence, ready for yet another fight. Being around Parker was simply exhausting.

"Let's get this over with," I grunted and just slightly tapped on my horn.

#

A car horn blared, and I dropped Camille like a goth hot potato. She hobbled a little, walking off her laugh. At the end of the lot, the last Toyota Corolla I ever wanted to see crept towards us. In a sea of Toyota Corollas, I could spot this one. This one with a small dent in the pumper. This one with a Yankee candle air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, alongside necklaces and a dreamcatcher because someone decided to be "quirky" on a boring day.

"Look," I whispered, still out of breath. Not because of the beauty of the car or its owner, but because I am wildly out of shape. I spoke into Camille's ear. "It's someone who's afraid of joy."

That earned me a sharp elbow to the stomach. I groaned and Camille still smacked my arm and snapped at me like a tiny angry Chihuahua. "Stop it. I'll kill you. I'll do it and I'll make it look like an accident."

"But she's the worst," I insisted as the car stopped at the edge of Camille's bug.

"She's my cousin and you're an ass."

Lizzie's Corolla slipped into the closest parking spot, her breaks screeching as she stopped. I didn't even attempt to conceal my grimace, falling behind Camille skipping towards her cousin. The moment Lizzie stepped onto the blacktop Camille tackled her into a hug. Lizzie's eyes bugged and I had a physical reaction. A groan shuddered inside of me, the same way it did when my stepmom, Debbie, ran into someone she knew out in public and I knew it was my daughterly duty to play nice and create polite conversation. I was sucked back into grade school, where my friends and I pretended to have a tea party and spoke in pretty little accents and talked like our parents about the "weather" and the "economy".

Small talk gave me hives.

"Lizzie!" Camille gushed, "My love! The light of my eternal life-"

"Yeah, yeah," Lizzie grunted, patting her cousin on the back. Her black hair was compiled into a long braid down her shoulder like always. She wore the same plain pair of jeans. The same yellowing converse. She wore a chunky gray cardigan over a white v-neck. She also wore the same necklace with a simple penny on the end. It was always the same thing with Lizzie.

"You're lucky I finished practice," Lizzie said, dropping her hands because while the hug was over, Camille was busy digging through Lizzie's pockets.

Lizzie made a face like she smelled something bad. Lizzie's dark eyes caught mine, but she quickly looked down at her cousin with a grimace. Whoever that face was for was difficult to tell. She finally asked, "What are you doing?" It already sounded like an accusation.

"I need your keys-" As if she summoned them, Camille yanked the keys out of Lizzie's back pocket by a black cat stuffed animal keychain. "Ah-ha!" She cheered, slipping behind Lizzie and plopped into the driver's seat. She snapped the door shut and Lizzie stumbled into the next car and the car alarm exploded. I covered my mouth to conceal the ugly snort that tickled my throat. Just spectacular.

People nearby gave Lizzie a dirty look. I just shrugged, pointing an accusing finger at Lizzie.

Blushing redder than the hell she was in, Lizzie knocked on her own window. "I just don't feel comfortable with you driving my car, using my car!" She had to raise her voice over the car alarm. "It's my car." She did this thing that was a mix between bobbing her head and nodding like her face was slipping off her neck. "It's my only car. It's not like they're going to give me another one."

Camille rolled the window down by just a crack. "Oh, come on, Lizzie..." Also forced to yell, she started the car and I shrugged, slinking around the other side. I hopped into the shotgun position, which earned me a scowl from Lizzie as her music trickled out of the radio and Camille continued making her paper-thin case. "It's not like I even crashed the car! It just spontaneously died on me. There's no way it's going to happen to us twice in one day." Camille grinned and wriggled her eyebrows. "I'll buy you ice-cream. I'll splurge on a triple scoop."

"B-but!" Lizzie looked at her cousin and then back to me. "But!" She motioned to me. "But why is she—" she said the way people talked about women who ate children inside of candy houses with venom and anger "—in the front seat? It's my car!"

I raised my hand and leaned over Camille. "I'm sorry? I guess you don't understand the sacred rules of shotgun. It's a 'you snooze, you lose' kind of game. You snoozed, Lizzie, so therefore you lose."

Camille nodded. "She has a point. Now get in, the alarm is giving me a headache."

"I can't believe this." Lizzie threw up her hands in surrender, but she still stomped to the back seat and got in. That was how it always ended. Lizzie folded with the ease of a paper airplane. Camille just wiggled into place and started backing up. Lizzie slammed her back against the seat and crossed her arms. Her scowl deepened. She looked ready to snap at me like an angry purse dog. "I'm being taken hostage by my own car," she muttered. It was a cop-out, low enough for the car to ignore, but I wasn't the silent onlooker type.

I rolled my eyes. "Stop huffing and puffing. You don't have to spoil our good day because you can't keep your keys in your pocket."

Lizzie leaned upwards, grabbing my seat. She served me a sandwich, layered with sarcasm and bitterness. "What a great fountain of advice you are, Parker. Oh! And by the way, you're welcome. Remember, I came down here to pick your broke ass up-"

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to start something with you because you know I hate it when you do that thing when you move your mouth and that whiny noise comes out-"

Camille reached for Lizzie's phone, raising it between us. She hit play.

1. Fat Lip by Sum 41

2. Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

3. Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus

4. Could've Been Me by The Struts

5. Etc...

The moment the first song started blaring, the tension exploded, and we were wrapped up in the moment and the music. Lizzie might have been one of the most annoying people on the planet, but she had great taste in music. The lyrics were ripped right out of my lungs. I danced with my hands stick straight and chopped at the air like an idiot. We performed for the people at every stoplight. Camille sang a little louder, showing off that she was actually a good singer. It was a travesty she was stuck as "chorus girl two" in yet another musical, but she was at least safe from the Thespians that would sooner step across me than walk through a puddle.

Glancing behind my shoulder, I noticed Lizzie sang most of the songs with her eyes closed, putting her full force into every word. She just drove me crazy. I knew Lizzie. I knew every word she was going to say before she did. It was always the same with her and yet, she fought it. She dragged things out. She made every tiny little itty-bitty thing difficult and sometimes I wanted to strangle her.

However, Camille and Lizzie were more than just cousins. They were friends, but when I moved to their school at the start of the year, we became inseparable. Camille has had trouble mixing her two lives. I tried not to complain too much.

Lizzie kneed the back of my seat and I jutted forward, nearly biting off my tongue.

But she doesn't make it easy.

And we finally got a couple of Lizzie's Playlists! I've always wanted to have a character that compiled fun playlists. What would you guys add to her mixtapes so far? (And there's plenty to come).

Now that we're a few episodes in, do you like Parker's or Lizzie's POV better? Have you ever had to save your friend from being stranded too?