Everything You Are(20)

She can see the driver’s face, a woman, sees her eyes widen, her mouth open in what looks like a scream as the car brakes and begins to skid. Allie hides her face against Ethan’s shoulder. She doesn’t want to see the moment of impact. The bike swerves sharply to the right. Her head comes up, eyes wide open. They are back in their own lane, traveling smoothly along as if they’ve always been here. She manages to gulp in air, one breath and then another. Her body is vibrating from head to toe.

Ethan pumps one fist up in the air. His shoulders are shaking, and she realizes he’s laughing.

Allie isn’t having fun anymore. When he finally turns off into a parking lot beside a beach, she’s off the bike the instant it comes to a stop. Her quivering knees will hardly hold her. Helpless tears roll down her cheeks.

“What are you doing?” she screams at him, her voice breaking on the words.

The laughter fades from his face. “Hey,” he says. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He takes a step toward her and she backs away, keeping distance between them.

“We’re fine.” He looks bewildered. “We were never in any real danger, Allie.”

“You’re sick! Death isn’t some sort of stupid joke. It’s not funny!” She’s sobbing, knows her face is all screwed up and her makeup running, but she doesn’t care anymore.

“Of course it’s not funny.”

Ethan puts his arms around her, tries to gather her to him. She presses the palms of her hands against his chest and holds him back.

“Don’t you touch me.”

“Allie. I wasn’t laughing at you, or even trying to scare you. It’s . . . exhilarating, playing with death. Don’t you see?”

She doesn’t see. Not in the slightest.

His face goes patient. He lets go of her and reaches for her helmet, unbuckling the chin strap, pulling it off her head.

Wind blows through her sweat-dampened hair, cool and wonderful, at the same time as the sun warms her. The sky is an incredible blue. She can hear the music in the car tires, the way every one is different, hears the wind playing a lament.

“You see it, don’t you? Feel it, hear it? Don’t answer. I can tell you do. A brush with death makes me feel alive for a minute. Come on.”

She follows his lead down a trail that takes them to a beach. Ethan heads for a driftwood log, high up on the dry sand. Allie follows, still at a distance.

“Don’t be mad,” he says, patting the space beside him.

She finds herself yielding. He’s right. She feels alive, wide awake. He didn’t mean to hurt her, he was sharing something with her, something important to him.

When her phone chimes, she wants to ignore it, but she can’t. The last time she ignored her phone, tragedy happened. She’s compelled to look at every single text that comes in, to listen to every voice mail. She hasn’t been answering them, but she looks.

While she was on the motorcycle, the text messages have escalated to mega drama.

Aunt Alex: Are you okay? Is your father drinking?

Aunt Alex: I worry. Let me know you’re okay.

Aunt Alex: Do I need to call DSHS? Maybe the police to do a welfare check?

“My aunt has gone insane,” Allie says. She texts back: I’m fine! Dad’s sober. I’m in the middle of an exam! Call soon.

Honesty, apparently, is part of the Allie that was.

“I threw my phone away,” Ethan says. “Into the ocean. The fucking thing was a time suck. Here we are in this beautiful place. Together. And your aunt is here with us.”

“My dad would have a fit if I got rid of my phone.” Allie has no way of knowing if this is true, but it works as an excuse.

“He’s probably tracking you with it. Parents do that, you know.”

“Pretty sure he’s not.”

“You never know. You won’t believe how freeing it is to unplug. Want me to chuck it for you?”

Allie’s fingers tighten around the phone. “I can’t.”

Ethan shrugs. “Whatev. You wanna be glued to that thing, feel free.”

“I’m not glued to it. Just need to check some messages real quick, and then I’ll put it away. Okay?”

In addition to Aunt Alex, there are about twenty texts from Steph, which is really about normal for the course of a day.

Steph: Chemistry. J just broke beakers & created fire. Thinks he’s the fire god now.

Steph: Exam Friday. Study date?

Steph: Worried. You okay?

Steph: Dude. It’s been, like, hours. Check in.

Allie answers with another lie: Ethan took me home, hanging with dad. take notes for me

Steph: k. will bring notes over after school

Allie: nah, still weird with me and dad. maybe weekend?

Steph: test Friday, remember?

Allie: fuck the test

A pause follows this response, and then:

Steph: you’re being weird. are you, like, suicidal or some shit?

Allie: OMG no. study Wednesday then. promise

While Allie texts, she watches Ethan take off his shoes and socks and set them neatly side by side next to the driftwood log. He makes a disgusted noise.

“Seriously. Let me make a free woman out of you. Let’s feed your phone to the fish.”

Allie barely hears him. Trey’s unanswered messages are staring up at her, accusing. Also the ones from her mother.