Like Gravity(15)

“Oh, okay,” I muttered, sure my cheeks were on fire. Hopefully he couldn't tell in the darkness of the van. Awkwardly extracting myself from Finn’s arms, I turned to Scott.

“Thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded in response.

I threw open the passenger door and scrambled off Finn’s lap as quickly as my heels would allow. To my surprise, he jumped out after me.

“What are you doing?” I asked nervously. “You can’t come in.”

Finn ignored me, turning back to Scott. “Give me five minutes, man. I’ll be right back,” he said, shutting the passenger door. He looked down at me, frowning. “I’m walking you to your door, smartass. I promised I’d get you home, and I’m not leaving you at the curb dressed like that, as drunk as you are.”

“I’m fine! And what is that supposed to mean?” I said, indicating my dress.

“Never mind,” he muttered, exasperated. “Just come on.” He grabbed my arm and led me to the side stairway.

“Do you even have your key?” he asked, doubtfully.

“Yes, of course,” I said, turning out of his view so I could retrieve the house key from its hiding spot in my bra.

“Classy,” he joked.

“Easier than carrying a purse,” I countered without apology, shrugging and starting up the narrow stairway.

I could hear him following me, laughing quietly under his breath as we ascended. Reaching the balcony, I unlocked the patio door and turned to face Finn.

“Thank you for getting me home safely,” I said sincerely, somewhat amazed that I was now indebted to such a jerk – or maybe that he was turning out to be not such a jerk after all.

“Not a problem,” he said, smiling as though he could read my thoughts.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” I decided. “And we’re definitely not friends.”

“Oh, yes we are,” Finn laughed. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not likely,” I disagreed.

“Think what you want,” he said, as if he knew something I didn’t. “Goodnight, Brooklyn.”

“Goodnight,” I echoed, shutting the door between us and making my way, finally, to the comforting warmth of my bed.





Chapter Four


Great Expectations



Tears tracked slowly down my face, dripping onto my pink Hello Kitty t-shirt and marring it with small wet blotches. I watched from the backseat as the man jerked the wheel sharply sideways, my head slamming roughly into the window when the car fishtailed around a corner. I whimpered under my breath, but he didn’t hear me.

I tried not to think about the parking lot. About Mommy. But I was scared, and I didn’t want to stay back here anymore, and where were we going? And why so fast? I trembled and squeezed my eyes shut, praying silently that it was all a dream. Just a nightmare. Mommy will come in and wake me up any minute.

I heard the sound of sirens behind us, and the bad man said a curse. I knew it was a bad word because Mommy only ever said it when she was really upset or when something got broken, and afterwards she always made me promise never to repeat it.

“Fuck! God dammit!” The man was really angry, and maybe scared too. He was sweating and the car kept going faster, faster, faster.

The sirens were getting closer.

Suddenly, the man started turning the wheel wildly, sending us swerving through traffic. I heard the beeps of other cars and saw a red stoplight fly by overhead as we raced below.

He was going too fast. Mommy never drove this fast.

He was going to hurt me, just like he’d hurt her. I remembered the parking lot – watching Mommy falling to the ground like a rag-doll. She wasn’t going to get up; she’d never get up again.

My small hands clenched into fists. This bad man had hurt Mommy.

I was going to hurt him back.

Without another thought, I launched my small body out of my booster seat and used all the strength I had to hit him in the face.

He was surprised; he’d thought he was alone in the car. When my fist cracked across his temple, he yelled and lost his grip on the wheel. The car jolted, and I fell backwards onto my seat, clutching the booster straps tightly.

Something big crashed into the front of our SUV and then we were spinning, drifting in circles. The man wasn’t holding the wheel anymore – his arms were covering his face as the front windows shattered and glass flew all around us. My head cracked sharply against my window once more, and this time I couldn’t keep from crying out in pain.

When we stopped moving, I opened my eyes. The man was bleeding and covered in glass, but he was alive; he was also looking at me, his expression full of shock and disbelief.

My head hurt. I moved my hand up to touch it and sobbed. When I took my hand away, I saw that it was coated in bright red blood. Like Mommy’s blood, in the parking lot.

No, don’t think about that. Don’t think about Mommy.

The sirens were all around us now. My head ached and I wanted to go home. I wanted Mommy. The man brushed some of the glass shards from his jacket before reaching over to the passenger seat. He cursed again, then found what he was looking for – a gun. The gun he’d used on Mommy.

Grasping it in one hand, he turned to look at me.

“Come here,” he ordered, “You’re gonna help me outta this mess, okay kid? You help me, I won’t hurt you – got it?”