Page 69

I drive as steadily as possible, narrowing my eyes as I navigate down the dark winding road. I grip my steering wheel until my knuckles turn sheet white.

My dash says it’s twenty-four degrees out. I miss the summer right about now. I love the different seasons in Washington, but I’m over it. I’d take the rain over this a hundred times over.

I turn the volume down on my radio, trying to focus on the road and not the growing tension in my chest. The curve up ahead looks a bit steep, and I’m regretting not just staying the night at my dad’s.

The car slowly starts to swerve to the right, where fir trees sit still, covered in snow. I try to move my wheel to the left in panic, but it only makes matters worse.

And then it happens—a slip.

My car has veered off the road, and time seems to stretch into an eternity. I wrestle with my grip on the wheel, but the ice on the road is stronger. My car slides down into a ditch and I feel the weight of gravity shoving me around as the impact with a tree is violent, sending shards of glass cascading like rain. My head slams against the airbag, a firm cushion saving me from flying forward.

That didn’t just happen. I did not just crash.

My left arm begins to throb. My right ankle hurts from hitting the brakes with such force. Beads of sweat fall from my forehead. I wipe it away, still staring at the mean and awful tree I’ve just hit. I stretch to look behind me to see if maybe someone saw the crash and can help me, but the road is bare. I’m all alone.

My phone has slipped onto the floor of the passenger seat. I reach over, wincing and grasp it tightly, bringing it up. When I lift my arm, dark red splotches cover the bottom of my sleeve.

It wasn’t sweat that I wiped off my face. As I think about it more clearly, pain throbs from my forehead. My trembling hand lifts to feel the warm trickling blood coming from a cut just above my eyebrow.

It’s shallow, but alarming. My ears are pounding from the adrenaline.

The world outside my car is eerily quiet, just the soft rustle of the wind and gentle snow that is falling, once again. As the cold begins to creep into the car, I shiver. I unbuckle my seatbelt and push the door open, wincing at the sharp bite of cold air as I step out. My car looks absolutely wrecked. Even going only thirty miles an hour, mother nature has won.

I try to hobble over and get a better look at the front end, but my ankle is in too much pain. I slide back around into the front seat with my feet hanging out. My breath is visible in the frosty air.

My house isn’t that far, but with the icy hill and my ankle, there is no way I can walk. My hands are still trembling as I reach for my phone again. My fingers instinctively find Sean’s number. For a moment, I almost don’t click the call button. Sometimes my pride can get the best of me, but he is the only person I know who can drive in this weather. Plus, my dad is probably asleep now, and he silences his phone at night. I place my phone to my ear and Sean answers immediately.

He sighs with relief. “Bee? I’m sorry I—”

I interrupt him quickly. “Sean, I need you to come get me.” My voice comes out hoarse. I didn’t realize that I’ve been fighting back tears.

“What is it?”

“I got into an accident.”

“What? Are you ok? Where are you?” His voice comes out calm but stern.

“My tires slid and I hit a tree…I’m on Pinewood Road. Near my house.”

“Stay there. I’m coming.” He hangs up the phone.

◆◆◆

I’ve sat for almost forty minutes in the cold waiting for Sean to show up. The roads are clearly not safe to be on, but at least his truck has all-wheel drive and will do better than my car did.

His engine roars from afar. I carefully stand up so he can see me in the small ditch. His white truck pulls up beside me, the tires crunching in the thick snow.

Sean jumps out, his eyes clinging to me as he examines me from head to toe. He nearly slips as he runs over to me, grabbing my face carefully.

“Are you okay?” He stares at the small gash on my head. His eyes full of questions.

“My car doesn’t do so well on ice.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Where were you coming from?” he asks, his hands still wrapped around my head.

“I had plans with my dad, remember?”

“You should have just stayed with him. When you live in the middle of nowhere, you have to be extra careful.”