“That’s who you think I am?” I asked, unable to hide the small quiver in my voice. “That’s what you and everybody else think?”
“What do you care?” she fired back, obviously still angry. “According to you, who cares what people think?”
People … yeah. But she wasn’t some random kid at school. She was my sister.
I wanted out of that car, away from her. Forget the rain, I’d walk home. It’d take me over three hours to walk those ten miles, but I didn’t care. Let Maddy scramble to come up with an excuse as to why I wasn’t there when Dad got up to walk Bailey and found my room empty. Knowing her, she’d shrug and claim she’d been asleep and had no clue where I was. But I’d fix that. As soon as I walked in that door, as soon as Dad let the first question fly, I’d fix that.
“Picking me up is the least you can do for me,” she continued, her voice rising to a deafening pitch. “After everything I’ve done for you, the people I’ve—”
“You’ve never done anything for me!” I fired back. “Since the day you set foot in Cranston High, you haven’t done anything for me. It’s as if I’m not your sister anymore, as if you are too embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“You have no idea what they say about you, Ella,” she griped. “How many times I’ve had to make up excuses for the way you act and dress.”
“Oh, I’ve heard it. Jenna made sure—”
“You think Jenna is the worst of it? You have no clue. You think you cover for me? You should hear the things I have to say to my friends to explain your lack of social skills. Ella is shy. Ella is quiet. Ella gets nervous around people.”
She stopped yelling at me long enough to catch her breath, to let her irritation morph into pure anger. “You sit there with your one friend and look at the rest of us like we’re idiots. Well, you know what? You’re the selfish one, and I’m sick of your crap! I’m sick of you always acting like you’re better than me when we both know you’re not!”
I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel hard to the right. The sooner I was away from her the better. She grabbed the armrest, the sudden jerk of the car taking her off guard. Good. About time. I wanted her off guard.
For a brief second, I felt the tires catch the road, the tremor in the wheel as I forced the car to turn when it didn’t want to. The friction eased, and the wheel stopped shaking. The car slid in every direction. I felt a sharp tug on the wheel, and I wrenched it back, trying to make the car go straight. I pressed the brake to the floor, demanding that the car stop, but it kept floating along.
I saw the side of the road, the three-inch concrete curb that separated us from the trees. There was no ear-piercing shriek, no grabbing for the door to brace myself. Nothing but complete and utter silence.
The car teetered when it hit the curb but didn’t stop. It spun sideways and continued on its path. I turned and saw the same horrified gaze on Maddy’s face that I knew was on mine. Her eyes widened and her lips parted on a silent scream as the trees grew bigger, grew closer.
I heard, saw, and felt it in slow-motion. Branches scraped across the top of the roof, each grinding sound showering the windshield with dead leaves. The car shook, bounced to the left, skimming the trunk of a tree. I watched it happen, saw the bark peeling away, a pale blue streak of paint left in its place.
Maddy’s cry shattered my own. Through the windshield, I could see the trees flying by. The car was still moving, picking up speed as it lurched to the right, balancing on the outer edges of its tires before tumbling over.