Side Trip(81)

Joy stared at her sister, petrified.

“Let’s go or we’ll be late,” Judy snapped, sounding impatient herself.

What to do? What to do?

She swallowed the lump in her throat and weighed her options. Three months of extra chores were better than three months grounded. The drive home was only forty minutes, fifty if she drove slowly, which she planned to do. And Judy would be right beside her. She could take over if Joy panicked.

“All right,” she said, her agreement whisper-thin. She climbed into the driver’s seat. Judy gave her the keys. Joy’s gaze drifted over the dashboard. The controls and panels looked the same as their grandpa’s old truck. She slid the key into the ignition. Foot on the brake like Gramps taught her, she started the car. The engine rumbled under the hood and Joy relaxed. It even sounded like Gramps’s old truck. She adjusted the mirrors and the seat, latched her belt, then gripped the steering wheel in the ten and two positions.

“See? You got this.” Judy smiled.

Joy looked at her sister’s lap. No belt. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should sit in back,” she suggested.

“Then I can’t help you. Don’t worry about me. You just focus on driving. You’ll get us home safe and sound, and before you know it, you’ll be fast asleep. It’ll be our little secret.”

Joy blew out a breath. “Okay.” She turned the steering wheel to pull into the street and shifted into first. The car stalled. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “I’m not so sure—”

“Try again. Pretend it’s Gramps’s truck. You’ll get the hang of it.”

She hoped so. She dried her hands on her shirt, shook her arms, tossing nerves like a wet dog sprays water, and tried again. The car shifted smoothly.

“See?” Judy patted her shoulder. “Keep it in first, go slow. After the turn up here, shift into second, then we’ll be on the highway. You’re doing great. I’ll be right here beside you the . . . whole . . .”—she yawned—“time.”

Joy peeked at her watch when she turned onto the highway. It was just after eleven. Their parents would be home at midnight. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she could hear the blood flow in her ears. They were pushing time, so she inched up her speed and concentrated on the road.

Twice an oncoming car passed. The first time she squinted against the glare, but Judy pointed at the solid white line on the right. “Look at the road there, not at the headlights.” She yawned again, murmuring, “You got this.” She then slowly slid sideways, lulled to sleep by the sway of the car and too much beer, her head coming to rest on Joy’s shoulder.

“Judy? Oh my God. Wake up.” Joy nudged her sister with her elbow.

Her sister grumbled.

“Wake up!”

No answer.

Now what?

There wasn’t a way to turn around, so she kept on driving. She eased around the turns, and only had to move over once to let a car pass. Around one hairpin she turned the wheel too sharply and Judy swayed to the other side, knocking her head against the glass.

“Sorry,” Joy muttered. She glanced at her sister to make sure she was okay, then looked back at the road.

An oncoming car came around the bend, driving directly at them and in their lane.

Headlights blinded her. Joy screamed and yanked the steering wheel. The teal Plymouth with the pristine whitewall tires plunged down the mountainside and Joy’s short life flashed before her eyes.



Joy later learned that they’d plunged seven hundred feet. Rescuers found her the following morning in remarkably good condition, considering what she’d endured. Nothing short of a miracle, CBS News in Los Angeles had reported. Aside from a horrible concussion and two cracked ribs, she survived. She’d been buckled in. Her sister wasn’t.

Daylight was breaking over the mountain ridge when Joy woke up with blood in her eyes. Judy’s head rested on Joy’s shoulder. Joy ached everywhere, especially her head. She fought hard to open her eyes. She touched her forehead and hissed. It hurt bad. She looked at her hand. Blood coated her fingertips. She whimpered at the sight of it.

“You’re awake?” Judy whispered. Judy had to repeat the question twice more before it registered to Joy that her sister was talking to her.

“What happened?” Joy asked. She remembered leaving Kevin’s house. She remembered driving because Judy was drunk. But Judy had fallen asleep and then a car had been heading right at them. A game of chicken on the rim of the world and they’d lost. Joy had swerved out of the way and Judy’s car bounced down the mountainside. She recalled grabbing Judy around the waist and holding on for dear life. Then she didn’t remember anything other than darkness.

“Be here soon.”

“What?” Judy wasn’t making sense. Joy closed her eyes, her vision darkening. If she could sleep off the pain, all would be better.

“Hear sirens. Getting closer.”

Joy groaned. Would she stop talking? It was too early.

“Don’t tell. Get in back.”

“Uh-uh. Sleep.”

“Get in back,” Judy said with more force. “I was driving.”

Judy’s meaning slowly penetrated Joy’s foggy mind and she unbuckled her seat belt. Judy didn’t want whoever was coming to know that Joy had been driving. Underage and unlicensed. Would they arrest her? She didn’t want to find out. Her movements sluggish, Joy dragged herself over the seatback, grunting and gasping. She bumped the side of her ribs and screamed in pain.