A noise beside me, the rush of cold air, a hand gripping my arm. Andrew was pulling me out. I fought to hang on to the steering wheel, both hands clutching the rubber, but he was too strong and I fell onto the ground, my legs still inside the car. He dragged me the rest of the way out, sat astride my chest. I choked back my scream. Sophie. I couldn’t wake Sophie.
I pushed at his chest, tried to squirm away. His body was outlined from the interior lights that had come on when he opened the door. I couldn’t see his face. It was all black.
Hands were around my throat, squeezing. I couldn’t breathe. I clawed at his hands, his wrists. My knees bumped into his back. Everything was slowing down.
“I warned you,” he hissed.
Something felt like it was bursting in my eyes, blood roared into my head. I tried to gouge at his face, but he pulled away. My eyes were closing. My hands loosening.
“Mommy?”
Air, sudden sweet air. My head rolled to the side, cold dirt and gravel under my cheek. I had no strength, could only take gasping breaths. My throat felt as though it was broken.
“Mommy fell out of the car,” Andrew said.
“Mommy?” Sophie’s voice was tentative, worried. She was strapped into her booster seat, couldn’t see me on the ground. Andrew shifted his weight and climbed off me, but his hand pressed down on my stomach—a warning.
“I’m okay,” I gasped. After a moment, I rolled onto my side, eased to my knees. Andrew was getting Sophie out of the car, lifting her up into his arms. She was holding her blanket.
“I thought we were going on an adventure?” Sophie said.
“The adventure is over, sweetie,” Andrew said.
He strode toward the house, Sophie still in his arms. She was watching me over his shoulder. I could just make out the shape of her small head bobbing with each of his steps.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SOPHIE
DECEMBER 2016
I’m in the cafeteria, drawing in my sketchbook. Delaney has gone back to her locker already, but I’m holding off going to my next class. I’m trying to get the wings right on a crow—I keep messing up the feathers because I’m thinking about my dad. I’m scared I’ve opened a door to something and now I can’t close it. He was asking so many questions about my mom. What if that’s why he really wanted to meet me? What if Mom finds out I’ve been lying to her?
Jared McDowell sits down beside me. I keep working on my crow. I can feel him watching me, like he’s waiting for me to look up or say something, but I’m not going to stop just because one of the popular kids is sitting beside me. He probably wants help with his homework or thinks I’m a dope dealer because I have purple hair. Least, that’s my best guess based on nothing. We’ve never talked before, but I used to check him out sometimes when we had the same class last semester. There’s something about his face that’s interesting. His nose is long, and his lips are too big for his face, but he has nice eyes. Shiny black, almost like a crow’s. Not that it matters. I’d never hook up with him. I don’t think he’s a jerk, but we don’t hang out with the same kids or have anything in common. His family has a lot of money, a big house on the ocean, and he has a car. My mom cleans for his parents. So, there’s that.
When I still haven’t spoken for a couple of moments, he leans a little closer to me.
“I heard your mom had something creepy happen this weekend,” he says. Some of the kids at the table next to ours turn around and look at us. I stare at them until they look away.
I meet his eyes. “How do you know about that?”
“She told my mom. She wanted to make sure someone was home when she was cleaning. Do the police know who it was yet? Does she think she’s being followed or something?”
I don’t know what to say. Mom didn’t tell me she was nervous to go to work alone or that she was warning her clients. Did she tell them about my dad? Would she lose jobs?
“What do you care?”
He frowns. “What’s your problem? I just wanted know if she’s all right.”
“She’s fine,” I say, too loud. It had to have been a robber who broke into Mrs. Carlson’s house, not my dad, but I hate thinking about my mom being scared. Jared’s holding a Starbucks coffee cup, his hands wrapped around it loosely. His nails are smooth and clean-looking, and he’s wearing a silver thumb ring with this cool stitched pattern. I want to see it closer, but then I think about my dad’s rough hands and how he was wearing his wedding ring. Mom told me that he tried to choke her once. How could he do that? I stare down at my drawing.
“You okay?” Jared says.
“I have to finish this before class.” I shift my body to the side so my shoulder blocks his view of my face, and start working on the wings again, smudging them with my fingertip.
He’s quiet for a moment. “Sorry I bothered you.” He gets up from the table, gathers his books, and walks out of the cafeteria. I keep working on the crow, but my face is hot. I take my pen and drag lines over and over the crow until it’s obliterated. Problem solved.