“Okay! Hold your horses.” I press my foot on the accelerator, and the whole car jerks several times. What the hell?
Shit. That’s probably my transmission.
My car’s never done this before. I’ve kept it in first and second gear without a problem, but this is worse than my clutch slipping.
Please, please make it home.
We’re on the edge of campus. Students are jaywalking en masse, probably trying to get to class on time, and one dummy almost gets hit by an SUV. Has no one ever heard of a crosswalk?
“Abby, my tummy hurts again.”
Ugh. “Do you think you might puke again?” Please say no.
She’s quiet for a long minute. “Maybe.”
Dang it.
I’m a bundle of nerves as I drive. The car jerks whenever I stop at lights and sputters along the way like it’s having a hard time locking into gear. This is not good.
A van is waiting to turn at the intersection I’m stopped at. I have my blinker on, prepared to make a right as soon as that van clears it.
I inch forward. “Hang on, Hazel. We’ll be home in just a bit.”
“I don’t feel good, Abby.” She lets out a loud burp, and I look behind me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you puke?”
“No.”
Thank you, Jesus.
The van clears, and I hit the gas to make my turn.
Almost home.
But there’s a loud crunch of metal, and my car jerks to the right. Hazel screams in the back, and I yank the wheel to keep from going off the road. The van in front of me swerves, which seems to drag us down the road. Eventually, we come to a stop.
“Hazel! Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, but my neck huwts.”
Damn it. “Okay, baby, hang on.”
At first, I’m not sure what happened, how I ended up tangled with that van, but then I see it. The utility trailer that was attached to the rear.
The one I just smacked into.
I thump my forehead onto my steering wheel.
Pretty sure Nick is going to lose it when he finds out what happened.
39
NICK
