“God, Mom,” snaps Kennie. “Why don’t you drive even slower?”
“I’m already driving two miles above the speed limit, Kennie.”
Kennie is fairly certain that her mother is the only person alive who has ever been ticketed for driving too slowly—it had happened during freshman year; she was late to school, and even the office ladies had laughed at her, the bitches—which makes her all the more upset that Julia had totally ditched her, that her mom wouldn’t let her drive to the hospital with Carly Blake.
Liz.
“I could have driven myself,” says Kennie.
“In light of recent events, I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”
And she begins to lecture again, her favorite rant, all statistics about car accidents and insurance, and Kennie ignores her as usual. She looks out the window and searches for signs of the crash.
She doesn’t know exactly where it was—Facebook wasn’t specific, but she searches and figures that, somewhere along the way, she will find it. She has to see it. She has to see the spot that defeated Liz Emerson, because part of her still refuses to believe it exists.
And just then, she sees it.
A splintered fence, ruined snow all around. She doesn’t look twice—can’t, because her eyes have filled and the world has blurred. A sob is building, and Kennie grips her seat with both of her hands.
“. . . and Liz was a lovely girl, of course, but her driving has always worried me. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised, honey—”
Kennie whirls. “Mom!” she screams. “Just stop!”
“Kendra Ann! I’m trying to teach you to have good driving habits. You need to learn some responsibility, and that temper of yours! You need to have a meeting with Pastor Phil for—”
“I don’t care,” says Kennie. “I do not care.”
Her mother snaps something back, but Kennie has started crying. She really doesn’t care, not at all, doesn’t care about anything except the fact that the fence is broken and the snow is dirty, and yesterday in that spot, her best friend nearly died.
She is so busy crying that she doesn’t see the actual crash site, when they pass it.
Good thing too. I don’t think Kennie could have handled it. If a broken fence from a rogue cow and a patch of trampled snow could push her into screaming at her mother—or rather, made her so terrified that she stopped after screaming that one line—maybe it was lucky that she didn’t see the contorted tree, the little scraps of blue Mercedes, the snow still streaked with pink.
“She is,” Kennie whispers to herself.
She is a lovely girl.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Forty-Nine Minutes Before Liz Emerson Crashed Her Car
The answer was breaking.
Her childhood ended on the day she watched Melody’s feet dangle, and maybe she hadn’t realized it then, but what she decided was this: she would no longer be an object at rest. The only other option was to be what Mackenzie was. An object in motion that would stay in motion, even if it meant flattening everything in her path.
And so she broke every promise she had ever made. And with the energy from so many shattered things, she pushed herself into motion.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers ..................................................................
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Twenty-Three Missed Calls Later
“Mom? Yeah, I—okay, yeah, I’m sorry. I fell asleep— “No, I’m not drunk, Mom. I’m not high, either—yeah, sure, I’d be happy to bring home some of my pee in a coffee cup, if you don’t care if it spills. I’m driving your car. Seriously, I’m— “Mom. Mom. Mom.
“Yeah, I know you called me twenty-three times. . . . I can see it on my phone—no, it died while I was asleep, I brought my charger—well, I couldn’t see it then, could I? I don’t sleep with my eyes open—okay, yeah, sorry, Mom. I—no, I don’t think aggression is a side effect of meth. Steroids, maybe—I’m not on steroids.
“I’m at—no, I’m not interrupting you—do you want me to answer that? I’m at the hospital— “I’M FINE.
“No, I have not overdosed.
“No, I don’t have alcohol poisoning.