Fallout

by Ellen Hopkins

  The thought seems to brighten

  his mood. Our first, but definitely

  not our last. And look … He points

  toward the window. It’s going to

  be a white Christmas. My first

  one of those, too. Outside, wisps

  of snow have begun to fall. “Maybe

  we’d better get going. It would

  be good to get there before dark.”

  THE LIGHT IS DUSKISH

  By the time we’re on the road. It’s not

  all that late in the day yet, but the peaks

  to the west are tall, and as the sun dips

  below them, its failing light is swallowed

  up by hastening snowfall. Glad Mammoth

  isn’t too far. The food Kyle managed

  to get down seems to have helped

  his system recover some. His color

  is better, his energy level higher.

  Hurray for meat loaf and biscuits!

  As we start up the highway, the snow

  begins to come down harder. It’s sticking on

  the pavement, and once the temps

  fall nighttime cold, it’s going to be icy.

  “Hope you’ve got tread on your tires.”

  Just got new rubber six months ago,

  he says. And the truck has four wheel

  drive. Think I’ll go ahead and put it into

  four-by now, in fact. It’s a simple turn

  of a knob, and the obvious traction

  boost makes me feel slightly less

  uneasy. We start up a long grade,

  making deep tracks in the road slush.

  And still the snow keeps falling.

  Giant flakes, plummeting from the sky.

  Holy crap! Check out this dumb-ass.

  The words are barely out of Kyle’s

  mouth when a black Hummer goes

  barreling by. Hope the jerk doesn’t

  have to stop fast. He’ll be toast.

  Intuition, or maybe subconsciously

  willing the universe to make it happen,

  the Hummer’s brake lights flash,

  and suddenly it is perpendicular

  to us and drifting sideways, right into

  our lane. Fuck, fuck, fuck, says Kyle,

  hitting his own brakes and whipping

  the wheel to keep from broadsiding

  the bigger vehicle. No. This isn’t

  happening. Everything seems to go

  slow motion. Turning sideways

  ourselves. Floating on snow toward

  the Hummer. Toward the shoulder.

  “Kyle!” I scream as we go face-first

  off the highway. Over the side.

  Gigantic bump. My head snaps

  forward. Back. Someone praying.

  Kyle? Falling. Somersaulting.

  Can a truck turn somersaults?

  Finally, no motion at all. And silence.

  STUNNED

  It takes a few minutes to understand

  I am okay, despite hanging at an odd

  angle by the shoulder harness that

  doubtless saved my life. Kyle is beneath

  me, against the window. “Kyle? Kyle!”

  He doesn’t answer. But I can hear

  him breathing. Okay. What now? If

  I unfasten my seat belt, I might fall on him.

  But I can’t just stay here, dangling.

  “Help,” I call uselessly. My voice is thin,

  and there’s no one to hear, anyway.

  I test my body. Legs, okay. Arms?

  Okay, I think. A little pain where

  the harness caught hold of my collarbone,

  but overall I got lucky. Please, God,

  let Kyle be lucky too. I have to try

  and help him, so I chance letting

  myself out of the seat belt. With my arm

  still looped through the shoulder

  harness, I manage to let myself down

  without falling on Kyle. Now that

  I’m loose, I can assess our situation.

  Not good. The truck is resting on

  the driver’s side, nose against a big pine.

  I can’t get out that way, and to

  exit the passenger door, I’d have

  to push it up, over my head, which

  would be hard enough without

  figuring in the fact that the rollover

  smashed it. Maybe the window?

  As I work through the logistics,

  I hear voices somewhere. “Help!”

  I try again. But it becomes obvious

  they’re already coming nearer. I lift

  my hands so they know someone’s

  here. Hang on! We’re coming.

  I manage to get the window

  open. Strong arms reach down

  through it, lift me out. Are you okay?

  says the man, who I refuse to let go

  of. Just want him to hold me.

  Let me cry into his chest. “Help

  him,” I stutter. “Please, get him out.”

  And please get him out alive.

  IT IS COMPLETELY DARK

  By the time I see Kyle again.

  I am sitting in the warm backseat

  of a highway patrol cruiser when

  they carry him up over the lip of

  the highway. I jump out of the car,

  run toward the stretcher. “Kyle!”

  A cop stops me. Let the paramedics

  do their job. His arm is broken, maybe

  his collarbone, too. And he’s got one

  giant knot on his noggin. But it looks

  like he’ll be just fine. The truck

  is definitely not so lucky.

  We watch two tall uniforms load

  Kyle into an ambulance. Then the cop—

  Officer Strohmeyer—opens the passenger

  door for me. Might as well sit up front.

  He comes around, slips beneath

  the steering wheel. Gonna take

  a while to pull the truck out of there.

  We’ll tow it to Bishop. The question

  is, who’s missing you right now?

  I’VE HAD SOME TIME

  To think up an answer, so it flows easily.

  “We were on our way to my grandparents’

  in Carson City. My mom’s already there….”

  Which may or may not be true.

  But I’m pretty sure Grandma Marie and

  Grandpa Scott will cover for me.

  I suppose I should get in touch

  with Kyle’s dad, let him know what’s up.

  You better give them a call and let

  them know what happened, says Officer

  Strohmeyer. I’ll take you to the hospital.

  You should get checked out too.

  The cop starts the car, turns carefully

  around, and I rack my memory for the right

  phone number. When Grandma Marie answers,

  relief floods through me, and I rush to tell the story

  she is so not expecting to hear. I hang up.

  “My grandpa will come get me in the morning.”

  Hunter

  CHRISTMAS DAWNS SILVER

  It’s the way crisp sunlight

  plays on the new snow,

  all sparkling. Clean. The sky

  is clear. Brilliant blue.

  And I am up way too early.

  I wasn’t the first one up.

  Scott was off at daybreak,

  on his way to Bishop to collect

  Summer. Surprise!

  Guess who was coming

  to Christmas dinner, only to

  be waylaid by a Hummer.

  Guess she and some guy

  named Kyle were lucky

  enough snow had fallen

  to soften their rollover. Some

  cop named Officer Strohmeyer

  insisted on talking to Kristina.
>
  Mom got on the phone, and

  when the guy found out

  who she was, he went all star-

  struck and forgot about

  Kristina. Mom sent a signed

  book along. Hopefully, the roads

  will be clear and they’ll make it

  back in time for the big meal.

  Mom’s already in the kitchen,

  baking pies and kneading

  the dough for her homemade

  cinnamon rolls. A Christmas

  morning staple around here.

  That and butcher-shop bacon.

  Been the same breakfast every

  Christmas morning that I can

  remember. And before that, too,

  I’m told. The boys and Leigh

  are still fast asleep. I’m sure

  Kristina is too. I’ll pick her

  up a little later. After I make

  another stop in Reno.

  HER CAR IS HERE

  The house is dark. Silent

  in the growing light. I let

  myself in with the spare key

  I had made and never told

  her about. Shh. In stocking

  feet along the hallway, listening.

  Hoping she is alone. I hear

  only her breathing as I steal

  down the hall, into the familiarity

  of a room filled with Nikki’s

  presence, even as she sleeps.

  About the time I get ready to

  add my own presence to the bed

  too long emptied of it, I realize

  this could go wrong. But I am

  determined to make it right.

  Her right arm lies atop the thick

  quilt, exposed. I kiss her fingertips

  gently. Move my lips along her

  cool skin to the crook of her elbow.

  She sighs, opens her eyes.

  She could jump up. Scream.

  Run from me. Instead she says,

  I was dreaming you had come.

  I ease onto the bed beside her.

  Kiss her. Easy. No demands.

  Kiss her mouth. Her forehead.

  Her eyes. Down her nose. Back

  to her mouth, which she opens,

  inviting me inside. “I’m sorry,”

  I whisper, before accepting

  her invitation. Diving in, as

  into a warm spring. And before

  we go any further, she says,

  I forgive you. This time. But

  this is the last time, I swear.

  “I know.” The love we make

  is remembered. And it is all new.

  And there is no one else in the world.

  WE DOZE FOR A WHILE

  And then

  somewhere, music. Loud.

  Incubus? Oh, my cell. The first

  thing I think, as I part the clouds

  of semi-sleep, is: better not be Leah!

  And then

  as the mist dissipates, I remember

  it’s Christmas Day, and I am on

  a mission. Besides winning

  Nikki back, that is.

  And then

  I pull Nikki tighter against me.

  Have I won her back? Can it

  really be so? I kiss her awake.

  “I have something for you.”

  And then

  I reach over the side of the bed,

  find my jeans. Extract the shiny

  red box from one pocket, dismissing

  the phone in the other pocket.

  And then

  I tell her, “Merry Christmas,”

  all hot and wobbly inside, like

  I’m the one getting the present.

  She sits up into slanted sunlight.

  And now

  My angel smiles, lingers over

  the shimmery gold bow. Slits

  open the tape, carefully unfolds

  the foil. I love little presents.

  And now

  She lifts the lid from the cardboard

  box, removes the smaller, velvet-

  flocked box, slowly, too slowly,

  opens it. Oh Hunter, it’s beautiful.

  And now

  She pulls the ring from its holder,

  starts to put it on her right finger.

  “No,” I say, taking it gently and

  moving it to her left ring finger.

  And now

  I explain, “It’s a promise ring.

  It belongs on this finger. Maybe

  someday we’ll exchange it for

  an engagement ring.” Wow.

  And now

  She moves into my arms. Kisses

  a long thank-you. I love it, she says.

  And I love you. And, despite my

  cell going off again, she proves it.

  WHEN SHE GOES TO SHOWER

  I check my voice mail. No Leah,

  thank God. But there are two

  from Mom. Your Grandpa Bill

  is flying up from L.A. He gets in

  at eleven. Can you pick him up?

  Call me back to let me know.

  I look at the clock. Ten fifteen.

  I let Mom know it’s not a problem.

  Then I call Kristina to give her an

  ETA for her own pickup. Her phone

  goes straight to voice mail. Wonder

  who she’s talking to. I join Nikki

  in the shower, admiring how pretty

  her summer tan looks under white

  soap foam. “Have plans, or can you

  come out to the house for dinner?”

  She thinks it over, some sort of back-

  and-forth in her head, as if arguing

  with herself. Finally she says,

  I should spend the day with Mom.

  Dad’s in Hawaii with his girlfriend,

  and I don’t want Mom to be alone.

  “Bring her along,” I offer. As soon

  as the words fall from my mouth,

  I realize that could be a bad idea.

  Kristina. David. Donald. Summer.

  Throw in Grandpa Bill, who’s eighty-

  five, and all the regulars—Leigh, Jake,

  Misty, and me. It’s already a formula

  for family disaster. But Nikki’s face

  lights up. Mom would love that.

  Your parents won’t care?

  I suppose I should have asked.

  But hey, too late now. “The more

  the merrier, Mom always says.

  We usually eat around four.”

  Initiation by fire, I guess. “I love you.”

  Hope she still loves me after dinner.

  THE AIRPORT

  Is busy. Weird. You’d think everyone

  would already be where they’re going

  by Christmas morning. I guess blizzards

  have a way of messing up travel plans.

  I wait inside for Grandpa Bill, who

  I haven’t seen in almost a year. He’s

  Dad’s dad, and has always been really

  good to me. Mom says the amused

  look he generally wears has to do

  with Dad getting back as good

  as he gave Grandpa Bill once

  upon a time. Meaning I haven’t

  always been the perfect kid. But

  hey, no such thing as “perfect,”

  right? I’m watching a couple

  of not exactly perfect kids right

  now, in fact, running around,

  screaming and laughing while

  their poor mom looks about nuts

  as she waits for someone too.

  Maybe I don’t want kids. Wonder

  if Dad will wear an amused look

  someday because I’ll be getting

  back as good as I used to give.

  I COLLECT GRANDPA BILL

  And his small suitcase, load them

  into my truck. “We have to pick up


  Kristina, too. It’s going to be a little

  tight in here.” Sardine-can tight.

  The amused look wavers just

  a little. I hope she can find a few

  minutes to spend talking to me.

  His voice crackles. Last time

  we had a Christmas together,

  she never bothered much with

  small talk. That kind of hurt

  my feelings, know what I mean?

  “Grandpa, you ought to know

  by now not to let anything Kristina

  does or doesn’t do hurt your feelings.

  Kristina is all about Kristina.”

  SHE’S ALL ABOUT KRISTINA

  When we get to the hotel and have

  to wait more than twenty minutes for her.

  All about Kristina when she opens

  the door, sees Grandpa Bill,

  and says, Hey there, Grandpa,

  how you been? Scooch over.

  He starts to sputter, doesn’t

  want to complain, so I do it

  for him. “You’re skinnier than

  he is. You can ride in the middle.”

  She throws up her hands, but

  what can she say? Whatever.

  For the next fifteen minutes,

  she goes on about how Ron wants

  to ruin her life. Finally, disgusted,

  I say, “Try picking better men.”

  That elicits a reaction. What would

  you know about the men I pick?

  I have debated saying a single

  word about this, but my mouth

  opens and out comes, “I know

  about one. I just met Brendan.”

  Autumn

  AWAKE MOST OF THE NIGHT

  Sleep elusive, chased

  into the night

  by fears of today.

  Christmas.

  My first far away

  from the only

  family I’ve ever

  really known.

  My first, promised

  to spend with

  the family I’ve only

  dreamed about.

  What if they won’t

  let me in?

  What if they don’t

  want to see me?

  What if they send

  me away?

  Why did I come

  here, anyway?

  AND ANOTHER NIGGLING QUESTION

  Is

  there some selfish reason

  for Trey bringing me here?

  “Out of the goodness of

  his heart” doesn’t ring true.

  There

  has to be a bigger “why”

  than just to make me happy.

  He never cared before.