7

My body locks up with fear.

It’s the morning of my twelfth birthday, and I dread what’s coming. I’m certain I won’t survive this time.

I struggle to reassure myself. My eleventh passed without incident. I spent the whole day locked in my room, refusing to speak to anyone, not even Mom. She called Dr. Lowell, who came by the trailer and tried to coax me out.

Nothing will happen, he said. The past experiences are all in your head.

But I didn’t budge. I took my medication that morning, but with zero faith it would work. A pill can’t stop a killer. Can’t hold back my personal angel of death.

But it did.

Nothing happened that day. The black-suited man never appeared.

No fleeing. Or falling. Or dying. No waking up in the woods, cold and alone.

Maybe the medicine really did work, and the murders were delusions after all.

A knock on my door. Mom. She takes one look at me and sighs. “Now, Min.” Sitting on the edge of my bed, she brushes damp hair from my eyes. “You’re going to school today, and that’s a fact. I’ve already spoken with Principal Myers, and he’s expecting you.”

“You called the principal!?” Aghast. If the others find out my mother trades phone calls with Peg-Leg Myers . . .

“And Dr. Lowell,” Mom confirms, each word a dagger. “Everyone understands why you’re upset, but we’ve got to put that behind us. Today is going to be a normal, happy birthday, and it starts with school.” She forces a smile. “There’ll be a party for you and Noah Livingston. Isn’t that nice?”

“Right. Nice.” She has no idea.

I can picture it now: standing in front of the firing squad beside Noah—the cutest, richest, shyest boy in my grade—while his friends snicker and make fun of us, taunting him about his “girlfriend.” He’ll turn red and edge away, leaving me up there alone like a freak.

Mom snaps open the blinds, then clucks audibly. “Well, there goes the bus. You’ll have to walk in. I’ll let them know you’ll be a few minutes late.” She looks over, sees my pained expression. “I’m sorry, Min, but I have to be at work in thirty minutes, and not showering again won’t do. Thomas must’ve thought you weren’t coming. He got on.”

“It’s Tack now.” Of course he thought that. I told him so myself, yesterday.

Moaning piteously, I gather my things. Begin trudging down the dusty lane toward the gate. The sky is leaden gray, as dark as my mood.

The road into town is strangely empty. Down in the valley, the lake is stirring and roiling. Though I can’t feel them yet, I know heavy winds must be sweeping its surface. A light mist creeps over the surrounding woods, punctuated by bursts of rain. Dully, I try to imagine more ominous weather for me to be out walking alone in. I guess it could be sleeting. At midnight.

High beams knife through the thickening fog. I move to the shoulder and wait for the car to pass—a dark, late-model sedan of some kind, moving fast. Idly, I wonder who was that far up Quarry Road this morning in anything less than a pickup.

The car snakes around a bend.

Something about it. I edge farther back onto the shoulder, but the drop-off is steep and slippery from the rain.

The engine revs. I catch a glimpse of the driver.

Sunglasses. Dark suit.

I scream, but it’s far, far too late.

The car swerves, its hood ornament zeroing in on my chest.

A flash of agony. The sensation of flying.

Colors explode, and the world disappears.

•   •   •

I stir well after nightfall. Pitch black, but I know where I am.

My brain shuts down. For a time I just sit there, unable to process.

I see his face through the windshield, an instant before impact. Feel the car slam into my side, crushing bones and tossing me through the air like a rag doll.

It didn’t stop. It’s never going to stop.

My leg brushes something and I recoil. But it’s only my backpack, fully zipped and undamaged. Of course. With nothing else to do or say, I stumble home.

My mother grabs me the moment I enter our trailer, her tired features twisted in a manic combination of anger and relief. A wave of déjà vu engulfs me. “Where have you been?!” Tears spill from her red-rimmed eyes.

Movement in the corner. Dr. Lowell is sitting in my mother’s rocker, drinking from a teacup. “Now, now, Virginia. Please. Let’s talk to Min calmly. I’m sure she’s just as frightened as you are.”

My hackles rise. What’s he doing here?

“I took the pill,” I blurt automatically. Then I regret speaking at all.

“I believe you.” Lowell’s voice is soothing. “Please, sit. Everything is going to be all right. Your mother did the right thing to call me when you failed to show up at school.”

Mom releases me, and I do as instructed.

Dr. Lowell assumes his “counselor” posture. His clothes are neat and dry, his red hair only slightly ruffled. It occurs to me that he’s been here, alone in the trailer with my mother, for quite some time. “Please tell us what happened today. In your own words. Take as much time as you need.” He smiles encouragingly, ghostly pale in the low light.

I don’t respond, hateful memories roaring back to life.

“This is a safe place, Min.” Dr. Lowell’s pleasant affect never wavers. “You’re home, with only your mother and me listening, and we both have your best interests at heart. I want you to treat this like one of our regular office visits.”

Something about the way he’s sitting. The false ease. A sharpness to his gaze.

His tone. There’s a hidden eagerness I don’t like.

So for the first time, I lie.

“I skipped school.” Eyes on our cheap carpet. “I didn’t want a party with Noah, or anyone else. So I hiked into the woods and hid. Read a book. But then I accidentally fell asleep, and woke up in the dark. Ran home.”

My mother slaps her thigh. “Melinda! How coul—”

“Let’s not judge, Virginia,” Dr. Lowell chides gently, one leg still resting comfortably across the other. “Min has had some very difficult birthdays in the past. It’s understandable she might not want to celebrate their anniversary.” He studies me thoughtfully, and though his bearing never changes, I feel added weight to his next words. “Is that what happened, Min? Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything at all?”

I shiver, as if sinking to the bottom of a deep, dark pool.

But I made up my mind a long time ago. So I meet his eye. Shake my head.

“I have nothing else to say.”