"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."
8
The Announcement was set to begin in three minutes.
I flipped a few channels. The presidential seal filled each one. For the first time in history, Uncle Sam was preempting every station and network. If you wanted Game of Thrones, you were simply out of luck.
I tried Twitter, but couldn't get a signal. Everyone in America must've been clogging the towers. Mom was pacing our kitchenette, wiping dishes that were already dry. Her hands shook. I worried she'd drop one and cut herself.
I rose and walked to her side. Gently took the rag away. She tensed, eyes squeezing shut as her chin dropped. "I'm fine . . . Everything is . . ." She shook her head, as if clearing it. "It's just not fair to you. To young people. You don't deserve to have your lives snuffed out before you can even-"
"Why don't we sit?" I guided Mom to her rocking chair, then dropped onto the couch beside it. Her pessimism rattled me, but I was determined not to show it. "Let's wait and see what NASA has to say first, okay? Who knows? Maybe the Anvil is made out of toilet paper."
My mother snorted wetly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She got a faraway look. "Did you know, when the preschool tested you as a toddler, your IQ was through the roof? Highest number they'd seen in years, the lady said. I don't remember what it was, but it was very good." Then her frown returned. A beat later she surged forward, grabbing my hand.
"I want you to know something. And I want you to remember it. Always."
"Okay." I swallowed. "What is it?"
"Everything I've done. All the . . . hard . . . all the . . . hateful choices I've had to make." Mom paused, as if searching for an inner strength that had clearly fled. "I did what I thought was best," she finished, releasing my hand. "Always that."
She looked away. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"It's okay, Mom." Though I wished she wasn't doing this now. "I know what-"
"No!" Her eyes closed. "You do not. But there was no other way. I believe that, at least."
I stared, baffled. But at that moment a voice blared from the TV.
"Please stand by for the president of the United States."
The Announcement was beginning. All other thoughts flew from my head.
Am I about to be told the exact moment of my death?
The seal disappeared, replaced by a live shot of the Oval Office. The commander in chief was sitting behind her desk, a grave expression on her face. Without preamble, she said, "I've just been informed that NASA, seconds ago, completed its final calculations regarding the path of Asteroid 152660-GR4, more commonly known as the Anvil. Neither I nor anyone on my staff has yet heard their conclusions. Therefore, we go live to NASA headquarters in Houston."
I sat forward on the couch.
A lonely podium on a simple black stage, in what could have been any auditorium in the country. A breathless man in a white lab coat practically sprinted toward the microphone.
Adrenaline flooded my system. This was it. The moment.
The gangly scientist seemed barely able to speak. "It's going to miss!" he finally wheezed, then shouted full-throat into the mike. "The Anvil will bypass Earth at a range of thirteen thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-seven miles!"
Pandemonium. The auditorium erupted in thunderous cheers. Flashes strobed. People were hugging and screaming with joy. The feed cut briefly to a network studio, where the lead anchor was shaking uncontrollably in his seat, gasping in relief.
My mother slid from her chair to the floor.
I dropped to my knees beside her and grabbed her hand. "Mom? Mom?!"
"Praise God!" she mumbled, rolling to her back to stare at the ceiling. "This wasn't it. It's not time yet. I was so sure . . . so convinced . . ."
I pulled her upright, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. "It's going to miss, Mommy! We're okay! Everything is okay!"
She tensed so abruptly, I released her in surprise. Sadness crept back into her eyes, but this time Mom tried to cover it. She patted my hand. "That's right, Melinda J., that's right. God is good. Everything is going to be okay." But the raw honesty was gone. I was disappointed by her clumsy attempt at placating me.
The president reappeared onscreen, smiling broadly, but I couldn't hear her words. Outside, explosions began echoing up and down the valley. I ran to the window. Fireworks were lighting up the night sky, punctuated by sharp pops and booms that could only be gunshots. I heard exultant screams and shouts. Running feet and raucous laughter. Fire Lake had been given a death-row pardon, and its people were celebrating. Hard.
"Get away from there!" my mother admonished, regaining her composure. "Damn fools firing their rifles into the air! Liquored up to boot. People are going to get hurt tonight, mark my words."
I stepped back from the glass. News coverage had switched to live shots of major cities. People were pouring into the streets, dancing, as if everyone had won a championship at once. I checked my phone again, but still couldn't get a signal.