A Warm Heart in Winter(4)

Terrie cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not working.”

“Thank you, Mr. Faulk.” Mr. Faulk was the seventy-million-year-old English teacher at Caldwell Middle School. They’d both had him, and they’d both hated him. It was the only thing they’d ever agreed on. “And it will work.”

Elle stomped on the accelerator. And all she got was more volume out of the spinning rear tires, so she eased off. Then tried again, with less gas.

“FYI, this isn’t helping us.”

Elle put the car in park and thought seriously about pulling out all of her sister’s hair. “I’m never taking you anywhere ever again. Like, ever. You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

“Just wait until I tell Dad ALL about this. Including that f-word.”

“Good. Then you’re in trouble, too, because you were supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”

“My bedtime was your responsibility. He’s never going to let you babysit—”

“Who the fuck else do you think is going to sit with you when we’re at Dad’s and he’s on a date?”

“That’s two f-words and he can pay someone better than you—”

“Shut up!” Elle slapped the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

Before her sister could update the tally, Elle leaned across the console and stared right into Terrie’s brown eyes. For once in her life, the girl thought better about speaking. But it wasn’t going to last.

With shaking hands, Elle got her cell phone from the drink-cup holder, but she couldn’t think of who could help. None of her friends could drive without an adult in the car—well, technically, neither could Elle—and any parental type who would come with them would call her father, which was exactly what she needed to avoid.

And their mom was out of the question.

Terrie crossed her arms over her pink parka. “You’re sixteen and only have your learner’s permit. This isn’t legal, you know.”

“You still can’t do long division, what the hell do you know.” Elle rubbed at her foggy window with the sleeve of her coat. “Hey. Check it. There’s a tow truck over there—”

Terrie grabbed her arm. “Lock the doors!”

“They are locked and what are you talking about?”

“It could be a murderer!”

Elle shoved off her sister. “Oh, shut up. And like you have a better idea?”

As she opened her door, the cold made it seem like it was three a.m. and they were in a bad part of town. Then again, she had a feeling this was a bad part of town, and ten p.m. might as well be three a.m. when you were alone with your baby sister.

If something went wrong, maybe she could just throw Terrie at the masher and run away. God knew the kid had that machine gun mouth of hers to use as a weapon.

Shutting her sister in, Elle kept her phone in her hand and double-checked to see if anyone, anything, was around. Nope. Just still December air, distant traffic, and a whole lot of wishing she were back home: Not that she’d ever admit it to Terrie the Big Mouth, she was seriously regretting this whole thing. She’d just wanted to drive down to where the clubs with the lights and the banging music were. When you were stuck babysitting your little sister—while your father was out on a date for the first time since the divorce and your mom was sitting in an apartment in the dark ’cuz it was always dark at her apartment—sometimes catching sight of the twenty-one-and-over glory that was just around your corner was the only thing that made you feel better.

Like what if their dad liked that woman? She was terrible. All perfume and LBD when she’d come to their door to pick him up. Like she was somebody special.

“Elle? You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

At least that annoying voice was contained inside the car, but Terrie hadn’t stayed put. She’d crawled over the threshold separating the two front seats, and she was staring up out of the driver’s side window, the ambient gray light of the city sucking the smart-ass out of her expression.

Or maybe the reality they were in was what was doing that: Car stuck, after dark, with no good options.

Elle looked at the tow truck, which was parked a good fifty yards away and facing in the opposite direction. It was red and white, and had a logo that seemed legit: “Murphy’s Towing” was done in script and there was a tagline, “We’re Always There for You!” They even had the AAA thingie. And a local phone number.

But she couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. There was somebody in the truck, though. Smoke puffed out of the tailpipe, and the brake lights glowed red. Why wasn’t he coming to help already, though? It was his job, right? And it wasn’t like there were any other cars in snowbanks around here.

“Lock the doors,” she heard herself say. Like she was a grown-up.

“Oh, my God, you’re going to be dead!” Terrie launched herself at the window, smacking at it with the palm of her hand, her voice all muffled. “Let’s call Dad! I’ll tell him it was my idea!”

“Shh. You’re being weird.” Elle swallowed through a dry throat. “Just lock the doors. I’m gonna ask if he can help us.”

“We’re all alone, Elle.” Now Terrie was more like the four-year-old she’d once been, all doe eyes and fright, the child coming out from behind the tweenager. “We’re going to die.”