I'll Stop the World (34)

Slowly, my eyes adjust to the view through my windshield. I blink through a whiskey-fogged haze, my brain sloshing around in my head like half-melted ice. For a minute, I’m disoriented. It’s just . . . sky.

The car groans forward, pitching me over the steering wheel. Twinkling lights flicker below me, and for one wild second, I’m convinced the world has turned upside down, and I’m looking down on outer space. Then my brain reorients itself, and I realize it’s not the stars I’m seeing, but moonlight glistening off black, rippling water.

Suddenly, I know exactly where I am.

My car is hanging off the bridge, teetering over the river.

Oh God oh God oh God. I don’t know if I’m praying or cursing. Maybe both. My hands feel fused to the wheel.

I try to breathe, but my whole body is frozen. Do I open the door? Climb into the back seat? Stay still?

My phone buzzes—it somehow wound up on the dashboard, right in front of my face—and, ridiculously, I look at it.

Are you ok? I’m worried about you.

I laugh. Me too, I want to respond. I think I might be in shock.

Maybe it’s my laughter; maybe it’s gas shifting in the tank; maybe it’s the wind. I wish I knew what it was, but I never will.

The car dips lower, and suddenly it doesn’t matter if I stay still or move or scream or hold my breath.

I try to resist, but gravity grabs hold of me, pulling me forward as I feel the back wheels lift off the pavement. I brace my arms against the steering wheel, pressing my back against the seat, but it’s no use.

The car tips like a teapot, threatening to pour me out.

Then—

It falls.

In slow motion, then all at once.

The last thing I see is the reflection of my headlights in the water.





Chapter Twenty-One


ROSE

Rose kneaded her hands on the steering wheel as she drove home, her headlights the only illumination on the winding road leading to Wilson Bridge. She sighed, biting her lip. No matter how many logical arguments she ran through her head, the ache in her chest remained. She wondered if it would ever fully go away.

The road spilled out of the trees, giving way to the airy openness of the bridge. Tomorrow, she decided. After church, she’d find Noah and apologize for acting so weird tonight. She didn’t think she could explain to him what the problem really was—that would just make things worse—but it wouldn’t be lying to talk about how she was stressed out about the campaign and the pressure their family was under and how weird everything felt right now. Maybe then, they could—

There was a body in the road.

Not at the edges of her headlights, in the distance.

Right in front of her. Like it had appeared out of nowhere.

Rose slammed on her brakes, jerking the wheel to one side. The tires shrieked in protest, skidding across the pavement, and for a moment, she feared she’d lost control. A horrific image flashed through her mind of her car flying off the bridge, plummeting to the river below.

The front of her car bucked angrily as the tire hit the sidewalk, sending her lurching over the wheel as the car squealed to an abrupt stop.

She sat frozen, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clenched on the wheel. Breaths came rapidly, her heartbeat racing as she realized the car was no longer moving. She pried her eyes open to survey the damage, and realized that, miraculously, she hadn’t even hit anything, other than the sidewalk. The steel railing of the bridge sliced the beams of her headlights into glowing ribbons a few feet in front of her car.

Hands shaking, she shifted into reverse, the front tire slowly dropping back onto the road. Rose put the car in park and opened her door.

“Hello? Are you okay?” she called, her legs still feeling a little wobbly as she stepped into the road. Her headlights were pointed away, out over the water, but she could still make the person out in the hazy glow of the bridge lights. A boy, lying on his side, limbs askew, like a dropped doll. Her breath caught in her throat as she approached, forcing herself closer even as her feet itched to run away. She didn’t think she’d hit him, but she really wished he’d move so she could be sure. “Hey!”

She was standing over him now, close enough to be certain that she didn’t recognize him from school, although there was something vaguely familiar about him. From here, she could see that he was, in fact, breathing. And there didn’t appear to be any blood. He was fair-skinned, with shaggy hair dyed a weird shade of red-orange, although it appeared blond at the roots. He seemed to be made up entirely of angles, with bony limbs and sharp, pointed features.

Tentatively, she nudged him with her toe. “Hello?”

To her relief, he groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. He mumbled something that sounded a little like Lisa.

“You know Lisa? I’m Rose, her sister,” she said, tapping her chest.

“Huh?” He blinked at her, frowning. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing as he did. “Alyssa doesn’t have a sister.”

“Oh, I thought you said—never mind. Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . not sure.” After a couple of false starts, he managed to get his feet under him. He looked around, bewildered, hands linked behind his head. “Where’s my car?”

Rose shrugged helplessly. “I was just driving home from the bonfire and saw you on the bridge.”