Like, why did she say, “I love you?” She loves me? All of a sudden? Or is she trying to use me? Why?
Mom kisses my forehead and says, “You look exhausted.”
I sink into the pillow and yawn. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“If anyone else calls, we’ll just take a message.”
My eyelids are already drooping shut as I murmur, “Thanks, Mom.”
I
n the middle of the night, I hear something outside. At first I think that hail is coming down. Then I realize that someone’s throwing pebbles at the den window!
I hobble over to it and peer outside. A dark figure crouches in the moonlight under the window. I almost scream when the person stands up, until I see Gabi’s pale face!
I flip the lock and slide the window open. Gabi smiles. “I figured you’d be in one of the downstairs rooms.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m running away. And I want you to come with me.”
I hate myself for thinking this, but she looks beautiful in the moonlight. Her black hair shines like a rippling pond. Her skin looks as smooth as a Barbie doll’s.
“Let me in,” she whispers.
Leaning on my walker, I hobble over to the door and slowly undo the locks. Clunk. Clunk. They sound so loud!
I hold my breath, hoping nobody wakes up. I wait for a few seconds, listening, before I open the door.
Gabi rushes into my arms, almost knocking the walker over. She snuggles against my chest. I had forgotten how good she smells.
“I’ve missed you!” she whispers into my shoulder.
Her hair smells like sweet shampoo. Her heart pounds against mine like a fluttery little bird. But this … this is crazy!
“You can’t run away!” I say.
Gabi looks up at me. Her big beautiful eyes gaze deeply into mine. “I’ve thought it through. I can get a job somewhere, change my name. I took all my money out of the bank. I bet it’s enough to get a small apartment somewhere. Maybe I’ll bleach my hair—I’ve always wanted to see what I’d look like as a blonde. I can just get on a bus to anywhere and disappear!”
I know she’s feeling bad, probably hurting inside even worse than my knee. Still, I can’t believe she’s being so stupid and selfish!
“If you run, your parents will have to pay the full bail, not just the 10 percent down. They’d probably lose their house! If you think they’re mad now…”
Gabi stomps her foot and pouts. “If you really loved me, you’d take me away from all this. I wish…”
I hold her chin so she has to look into my eyes. “Wish in one hand and spit in the other. See which fills up first.”
Gabi frowns. “That’s disgusting!”
I chuckle. “It’s just an expression…” How can I explain it to her? “It means that wishes aren’t real. Spit is real. Disgusting things are real. Like Vera being dead. And you, Adam, and I all share the blame for that.”
Gabi’s face hardens. This isn’t what she wanted to hear. But I don’t care. I go on. “You can blame me all you want,” I say. “But you can’t run away from the truth.”
Gabi snuggles against my chest again. She whispers in this hot, husky voice, “You can have me now.”
Suddenly it’s like we’re back rolling on the grass, like the accident never happened. I don’t know which I want to do more: push her away or pull her closer!
I can’t really do anything, except lean on my walker. “I can’t run anywhere,” I remind her. “I can’t even walk with a cane yet.”
Gabi sniffles. “Yeah, but…” She sighs. “Yeah. I guess it wasn’t the smartest plan.”
I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, I just offer to call her a cab.
Gabi shakes her head. “No, that’d make too much noise. Besides, I need the walk. I’ve hardly been out of the house since…”
I don’t make her finish the sentence. I know what she means.
Gabi hesitates in the doorway. “Goodbye, Roberto.” I know she doesn’t mean just tonight. She means forever.
“Good-bye, Gabrielle.”
T
he next day, Adam stops by. He’s not as much of a zombie as he was at the hospital. But he isn’t all there, either.
I ask if he’s gone back to school yet. He shakes his head. “What for?”
“Adam, you have to finish. You can’t drop out.”
He shrugs.
I hate to see him so lost. I’m almost afraid to mention her name. So I whisper, “Vera wouldn’t want you to give up on your life.”
Adam changes the subject. He asks me about the surgery and my scholarship. I tell him my knee will probably be fine once I finish the physical therapy.
His lips almost manage a full smile, but there are dark circles around his eyes. He mumbles, “Nothing’s ever going to be the same.”
I look him right in the eyes and agree. “No, it won’t.”
I know that I will never take life for granted again. I won’t assume everything will be okay. Because I know for a fact that sometimes it isn’t.
Adam shakes his head. “I keep seeing Vera in my dreams.”
“Is she…” I see the bloody body on the ground.
Adam shakes his head again. “She’s fine. She’s just … there. And I even tell her, ‘You’re dead.’ But she doesn’t seem to understand.”
I shrug. My neck only hurts a little. “Maybe she just misses you or something.” It’s a dumb thing to say. I don’t really believe in ghosts.
Adam smirks, and I see a hint of his old sly smile. “Maybe I’m just going crazy.”
I try to get him to really smile by teasing, “Going crazy? You already were!”
Adam makes a feeble attempt at laughter. Then he stands up. “I’ve got to go.”
I have the feeling he just doesn’t want to stay any longer. Being around me reminds him too much of that awful day.
At the door, Adam turns and says, “See you around.”
I understand what he means. We’ll see each other at school, but our friendship is over. Like Vera, I guess it just couldn’t survive the crash.
– – – – –
On my first day back at Southside, Benito and the rest of the soccer team give me a big greeting. Between classes, the guys take turns carrying my books and making sure no one bumps into my cane.
By now just about everyone at school knows that I wasn’t driving the day Vera died. Some kids still blame me for bringing the booze. But that’s okay. So do I. It was a dumb risk to take—the kind of bet no one can afford to lose.
I wish things had turned out differently. But I know all about wishes. They aren’t worth spit.
– – – – –
After a few months, my knee is as good as new. But I’m not sure I want to be a pro soccer player anymore. I’m going to use my soccer scholarship to study physical therapy. I think Ed was right. Scoring goals is okay. But helping people every day—that’s a real way to win.
Justine Fontes and her husband, Ron, hope to write 1,001 terrific tales. So far, they have penned more than 700 children’s books. They live in a quiet corner of Maine with three happy cats.
Deadly Drive Page 5
