The house is quiet when I tiptoe down the stairs. I move extra slowly, waiting for a moment in between each step. I don’t want to wake Marcus this time. Angus’s toenails tap on the floor as he follows me and I stop to take off his collar so it doesn’t jingle. I put my finger to my lips. “Shush!” He looks at me as though he understands. I let Angus out for a pee and quickly scrawl a note, debate about where to leave it, and finally settle for on the fridge. I’ll get a coffee in town. When Angus comes back in, I coax him onto his blanket with a bone stuffed with peanut butter, then sneak out of the house before he catches on that we’re not going for a walk.
I feel bad about using Marcus’s Cherokee without asking—and a little freaked out. It’s brand-new, without a single scratch. I drive slowly, my hands tight on the wheel. I’ll be extra-careful. I won’t park by any other cars and I’ll wash it after our trip. Hopefully he’ll just be so happy he and Mom are getting married that he’ll let my auto theft slide. Every kid gets one get-out-of-jail-free card, right? Though maybe that’s for real parents. Real fathers. I think about my dad. He would have let me use his truck. He was even going to buy me my own car.
No. I’m not going to think about that anymore. Andrew is gone and I can’t make anything up to him, but Jared is still alive and I’m not letting him go this time.
The road is rough, the tires slogging through deep puddles. I fumble with different buttons until I think I’ve put the Cherokee in four-wheel drive. Isn’t there something about speed? You can’t use four-wheel drive on a highway? I don’t know, I don’t know. What was I thinking? I don’t want to kill his transmission. Some of the branches scattered across the road are so big I can feel them scrape against the undercarriage. I hope I don’t rip off the muffler.
When I come to a junction, I slow down and try to think which way to turn. There are no direction signs and nothing looks familiar. I’d been sitting in the back the whole drive, playing on my phone. All I remember is Marcus saying something about all the logging roads in the area.
I turn right, but twenty minutes later, when I still haven’t hit the highway and the road is getting bumpier and narrower, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I find a small clearing in the woods where I can turn around, and head back. This time when I reach the junction, I go the other way.
Five minutes later, I notice a sign. I’m almost at the turnoff to the highway. The road should get better soon—thank God. I haven’t passed any cabins for a while and the forest is thinner. Light breaks through the trees.
I glance at my cell on the passenger seat, wondering if I have service yet. I stretch over to the side, my rib cage pressing into the leather console, and pick up my phone. I press my password in, while taking quick peeks at the road, and hold the wheel with one hand.
Success. I have cell service! I wonder if I’ve gotten more text messages. I glance down and open the app with my thumb, and hear a distinctive whoosh as my text to Jared leaves my phone. Shit! I’d wanted to look over it again and make sure it didn’t sound stupid.
I look up—and in a quick flash of panic, I see the tree lying across the road. I slam on the brakes, the seat belt cutting sharply into my stomach and across my chest. The back end of the Cherokee is sliding and I’m trying to turn the wheel, but the front is pointed toward the edge of the road. The Cherokee bounces into the ditch, rockets forward, and smashes into a tree.
So much noise, like the world is coming apart. Metal screaming, glass shattering. A branch stabs into the windshield and scrapes against my face in a sharp slap. The driver’s-side air bag blows up with a loud bang, then the passenger one. I’m surrounded by white balloon material.
It’s stopped. Everything is quiet, just the hissing of the engine. I’m scared to move. I cautiously move my legs and feet. Everything seems to work, but I’m shaking hard. The engine is making a weird noise, like a high-pitched whine underneath the hissing.
I reach out and turn the key. The engine shudders off. I fumble for my seat belt and press the button, but it doesn’t release right away. I have to yank and tug and finally it comes free.
I look for my cell phone, but I can’t see anything with the air bags filling the front seats. It’s not on the console. I push and shove the driver’s-side air bag out of the way, and feel around with my feet until I spot my bright pink cell case.
I reach down, wiggle it out with a finger, and slide it closer. The rectangle plastic shape is solid and familiar in my hand, comforting. Please, please, let me still have cell service.
Three bars. It should be enough, but who do I call? I hesitate, staring at my screensaver photo—Delaney and me, making a funny face. Jared took the photo. I don’t know if the lake house has phone service yet, but it doesn’t matter—I don’t know the number anyway.
Should I call 911? I think about the text leaving my phone. Can cops look up that stuff? They’ll see I was using my cell while driving. I’ll be charged. I don’t want to lose my license. My phone vibrates in my hand, startling me so much that I almost drop it. It’s a text from Jared.
Can we talk? I miss you.
I had an accident. I need help!
WTF? Call me!
He answers right away. “You okay? Did you get hurt?”
“My head hurts a little … and my neck. My mom is going to be so pissed.”