When the introductions were over, David opened the cooler box.

“Beer?” David asked him, and held out a green bottle. Peter could hear that word in his head again. Wimp.

He held out his hand. “Sure, why not?”

He had stolen a taste of his father’s beer once. He had not liked it then; he liked it less now. He took tiny sips of the brown liquid, trying to swirl it round in his mouth to make it taste better. The third sip decided him. He went to the kitchen, closed the door behind him, and poured the beer down drain.

“I think we should go somewhere…more exciting,” he said, “like, maybe the mall, or some place.”

“My friend’s having a party at her place. We can go there,” said the girl called Busie.

“Even better,” said Peter. He had to get them out of his home. He’d leave them at the party, come home. His parents would find their house exactly as they left it. Everything would be okay.

That is how it should have gone.

“You drive,” said David, holding out the car keys. “You’re the only one not drinking here. I know the kitchen sink drank that beer instead of you.”

“But I don’t have a licence,” said Peter.

“You can drive, can’t you?”

Peter took the car keys from David before he said that word again and made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“I’ll sit in front with you,” Busie said, and got in beside him.

Peter smiled but he was focussed on driving the car. He checked the rear and side view mirrors and played with the indicators. He pressed the brake pedal down and pushed the seat back. He breathed in and turned the key in the ignition. The car leapt forward and stopped. He shifted the gear into neutral and started the car again. It jerked forward, and then he was driving smoothly. It felt good. He liked Busie with her red t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He wanted her to like him too. He wanted to impress her.

He drove slowly to the intersection. The car stalled, almost stopped, but he pressed the accelerator and they continued moving. Right at the T-junction. Left onto the highway. When he stopped at the robots, Peter said a silent prayer. The car took off smoothly. He stole a look at Busie.

“You drive well.” That voice in his head that called him a wimp was silent. All he heard was music from the party. All he could think of was Busie.

Tell us what you think: How should Peter be trying to impress Busie?