Don't Fail Me Now(69)

Kingman, AZ




It tears out of me like it’s been waiting in the wings for years, perfectly formed, this long, loud, ragged yell that goes and goes until my vocal chords give out and the muscles in my neck start to shake. I slam my palms against the steering wheel, the thin, hard band digging into my skin, making it sting. Good. I want it to hurt. I hit it again, closefisted this time, and a flare of sharp pain shoots through my knuckles.

“Michelle,” Tim says, and I feel his fingers encircle my right wrist, holding it back. But he can’t reach the left. I slam it into the steering wheel a few more times, hitting the horn, producing a series of staccato honks. “Michelle, stop. You’ll just break something.”

“What’s left to break?” I yell, jerking my hand out of his grasp. I feel a weird, dead calm settling in as the adrenaline drains from my limbs. I’m used to panic. I’m used to the swells of anxiety that turn my breath quick and shallow, that turn my pulse into a surround sound marching band, that dry my throat and dilate my pupils. I’ve lived with it as long as I can remember—fight or flight, every second of every day. This is different. I just feel . . . done.

“You need to relax,” Cass says, looking at me like I’m insane.

“That’s easy for you to say.” I drop my throbbing hands into my lap. “You don’t even know how easy you have it. You don’t have to take care of anything or anyone but yourself.” The next sentence comes out before I can stop it, a series of bullets at pointblank range: “And you can’t even do that.” I turn to face her, my voice rising to a shout. “How could you do that to yourself? I’m doing this, all of this, for you.”

Cass’s mouth screws up, and she looks away, out the window. There’s nothing but mesas and dying brown grass as far as the eye can see. We’re in the middle of nowhere, a metaphorical destiny we’ve finally managed to make literal.

“Stop it,” Leah says, putting an arm around a terrified-looking Denny. “It’s not about you.”

“Oh, what, did she tell you?” I ask angrily. “In the bathroom, when she was stabbing herself with all those needles, did you guys have a bonding moment?” Leah looks like she just got slapped, and Cass starts to cry.

“Michelle,” Tim snaps, and I feel a wave of guilt, but I’m too worked up to let it go.

“She was there,” I say, slamming the steering wheel again. “She was right there.”

“Don’t blame Leah,” he says. “That’s totally out of line, and you know it.”

“I can’t take this,” I say to no one in particular.

“Why don’t you ask her what happened instead of yelling at her?” Leah says, leaning forward in her seat, her cheeks getting red.

“Stop fighting!” Denny cries. “Max wants you to stop fighting!”

“Max can shut the hell up,” I snap. “And it’s none of your business,” I say to Leah.

“It is my business!” She shouts. “She’s my sister, too!”

Another semi wails by just inches away, making me flinch. In the back, both Denny and Cass are sniffling. I remember when Mom and Buck would fight right here, in these same seats, trading bitter accusations and hurling threats back and forth, screaming at each other to shut up and at me to stop crying. The arguments always died down as quickly as they escalated, but that was almost scarier; it made the whole world seem frighteningly off-kilter, something that could shift under your feet and topple you at any second.

Now I’m passing on that feeling, sowing the seeds my parents gave me, and my anger is immediately replaced by a crushing shame.

“I’m sorry,” I say, first to Cass and then to Leah, to Tim, to Denny. “I’m so sorry.” I check to make sure I’m not about to get sideswiped by a Mack truck, and then I get out of the car and start to walk along the shoulder. I give up, I tell the universe, kicking the guardrail for emphasis. I’m taking the hint. Hopefully there’s enough cell reception on this stretch of highway for Tim to call his dad and get him to change plans and pick us up here—if any of the Harpers are even willing to associate with me anymore.

“Hey!” I look over my shoulder to see Cass slamming her door shut and starting after me. “Where are you going?”

“Get on the other side of the rail!” I yell as a line of cars shoot past.

“You get on the other side.”

She has a point. I jump over the low metal fence and into a circle of grass. We’re at a bend in the road now, which creates a shallow little meadow for a few yards before the ground swells into a hill. We meet in the center.

“Where are you going?” Cass asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. Wind from a passing truck whips my curls across my face, and I bat them out of the way.

“Well, wait.”

“For what?” I cross my arms. “A cartoon anvil to drop out of the sky?”

Cass shoves her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “For me.”

“You think I would leave you? Now?” I cry. “I would never leave you behind. You’re all I’ve got, Cass. That’s why when you—” I have to close my eyes for a few seconds and will the tears away. When I open them again, Cass is wet-eyed, too. “I’ve never been that scared,” I say.