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Our heads jerked up as ere bathed in light My father spun the steering wheel to the left as the pickup truck behind us swung into the right lane, nearly swiping the rear passenger side

My father was yelling so But I couldn’t hear him because when the truck pulled up next to us, ht of Jude behind the wheel

I screamed fortoo

"Hold on!"

He’d lost control of the car A black wave of panic threatened to pull me doith it as the car spun out beneath us on the rain-slick pavement The truck cut across several lanes and raced ahead My heart thundered against ripped the center console with one hand Bile rose into crash Jude followed us and noere going to crash--

The second I thought it, ere plunged into silence

"Asshole!" lanced over at him--sweat had beaded up on his forehead, the veins in his neck were corded

That’s when I noticed eren’t

We didn’t crash

We sat motionless in the far left lane--the carpool lane Cars veered around us and honked

"No one kno to drive in this goddamned city!" He slammed his fist on the dashboard and I jumped

"I’m sorry," he said quickly "Mara--Mara?" His voice was brittle orry "Are you okay?"

I must have looked awful, because my father’s expression morphed from fury to panic I nodded I didn’t know if I could speak

My father didn’t see hiet you home," he muttered to himself He started the car and we crawled the rest of the way Even the retirees in their powder blue Buicks honked at us Dad couldn’t have cared less

We pulled into our e the umbrella above our heads We hurried to the house,the front door

"I’ll make some hot chocolate Rain check on the ice cream?" he said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes He was seriously worried

I forced myself to speak "Hot chocolate, yeah" I rubbedrooin this house"

A fake shtly I thought Ihim back, and e broke apart he headed for the kitchen and began to o anywhere I just stood there in the foyer, rigid I glanced up at the giltabove the antique walnut console table by the front door My chest rose and fell rapidly My nostrils were flared,But not with fear

With fury

My father could’ve been hurt Killed And this time it wasn’t my fault

It was Jude’s

18

MINUTES OR SECONDS LATER, I PEELED MYSELF away from the mirror and marched to hly disturbed to find eyes staring back atagainst a stack of my old schoolbooks Her sewn-sely focused in randmother’s doll, my mother had told me when I was little She had left it to me when I was just a baby, but I never played with it I never named it I didn’t even like it; the doll took up residence beneath a rotating assortment of other toys and stuffed anirew up, it lected corner of my closet, to be obscured by shoes and out-of-season clothes