We pile into the old beat-up minivan for a late night drive to Taco Bell. The van is older than me and stutters a bit before roaring to life. The boys bicker in the backseat and my sister occupies the passenger spot. My mom backs out of the messy garage, checking her dyed-red hair in the rearview mirror. “Can we get a box of tacos?” I ask over the loud bass coming from the subwoofer in the trunk. “Uh, yeah,” Mom says as she turns on her blinker. Kenzie fiddles with the radio and mom swats her hand away. “STOP COPYING ME!” Jackson screeches from the backseat. “STOP COPYING ME!” Josh mocks, giggling. I turn around from the middle seat and thrust my fist in Josh’s direction. “Knock it off, dude.” I growl. “I was just messing with him.” Josh grins, feigning innocence. “I don’t care. Nobody wants to hear his awful screaming!” I yell. “All y’all stop or you’re gettin’ nothin’!” Mom yells from the front seat as she pulls into Taco Bell’s drive thru. I turn around to the front and grab onto Mama’s seat eagerly. “Hey, Mama, can we get cinnamon twists instead?” I ask. “Yeah, can we? Please, please!!” Kenzie begs. “I dunno …” “Oh, please, please, please!!” We beg. “Fine, fine. Whatever.” Mama sighs, defeated. “Yes!” I yell, pumping my fist in the air. The truck in front of us is a dirty shade of red with a Chevy logo and an unreasonably high suspension. “Do you needta get any higher?” Mama asks the car in front of us. Mackenzie and I laugh at the Chevy. My eyes wander the car, noticing the stickers on the windshield and the mud on the wheels. What catches me is the boy riding shotgun and how he looks so much like the boy I’ve tried so hard to forget. The blue eyed, blonde haired boy. The night provides little light, and the square light above my head doesn’t help anything. The dark is consuming as the square light flickers and dies before coming back to life and illuminating everyone in the van again. We’re all still laughing and talking and arguing but I don’t hear anyone. The driver of the Chevy leans over to order and his face is framed in the mirror by the light of Taco Bell. I expect my heart to jump out of my chest or to forget how to breathe but that doesn’t happen. He meets my eyes and a flicker of surprise passes his face. He stares for a minute or two then drives forward when the car in front of him moves. I watch him fidget in the seat of his truck while the passenger looks back at us. I can’t see his face well, but he looks like the driver. The driver twitches like he wants to look back at me but doesn’t want me to know he saw me. I sigh and watch as he drives away in that ugly old Chevy.