The Chance You Won't Return (12 page)

Dad’s eyebrows lowered. “You told Teddy?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not stupid. But someone’s going to have to.”

“Jesus, Alex, I told you I would take care of this,” Dad said. “I asked you this one thing, not to tell your brother and sister.” Katy kept wiping her face with her arm, so Dad went into the bathroom and got a few squares of toilet paper for her. “Sorry, Katydid, we’re out of tissues.”

Katy took the toilet paper and blew her nose. “Thank you.” She sniffed and sat on the edge of Mom and Dad’s bed. “Alex said Mom’s crazy.”

Dad sat beside her. “Mom’s going through a really rough time right now. She’s calling herself Amelia Earhart —”

“Told you,” I muttered, but Dad cast me a look.

He kept talking about how the doctors thought it might be stress, and that Mom was going to see a psychiatrist, all the stuff he’d told me. This time, it sounded rehearsed. He promised things were going to get back to normal soon.

Katy rested her head against Dad’s shoulder. “That is so messed up,” she said.

“Look, Alex and I are going to pick Mom up from the hospital tomorrow,” Dad said. “You can come if you want, but you don’t have to. If you think it would be too much —”

Katy shook her head. “No,” she said solemnly, “I want to go.”

She looked so small and red and stoic — a little survivor. I kind of hated her for it, since I’d only agreed to go after Dad said I wouldn’t have to go to school that day. And here Dad had been so afraid to tell Katy, because she was too young to handle things. He should have talked to her from the beginning and left me out of it.

“Can I use Mom’s car?” I said suddenly. “I need to practice driving.”

Dad frowned. “I can’t really go driving right now, Alex —”

“No, you don’t have to. There’s a kid at school who’s helping me. He took the same driving class last year.”

“Don’t you need to have an adult with you in the car if you don’t have your license yet?” he asked.

“He’s eighteen,” I said, unblinking. “And I’ve had my learner’s permit for way over nine months, so it’s okay.” That wasn’t exactly true — technically, I was supposed to have my learner’s permit and a certification from driver’s ed (which obviously wasn’t going to happen anytime soon) before I could be on the road without someone over twenty-one. But with everything that was going on, I didn’t think Dad would remember Virginia’s exact permit laws. “Jim’s a good driver.”

Katy scowled. “You mean that guy who drove through his parents’ house.”

Dad’s eyebrows went up. “He drove through a
house
?”

“Not
through
a house,” I said. “Just, you know, kind of into it. But whatever. I drove through a football field and you still make me drive. And he’s the one who helped me actually stop freaking out about getting behind the wheel, so he’s already better than my driver’s ed teacher anyway.”

“Alex, there’s no chance in hell that I’m letting you take driving lessons from this kid. You want to practice, we’ll pick a time.”

“When?” I demanded. “Tomorrow? Mom sure can’t stay home alone. And Katy can’t take care of her. So when exactly are we going to have these fun driving jaunts around town? Hey, I have an idea. Maybe Mom can sit in the backseat and we’ll pretend that she’s on her first trip across the Atlantic. Did you know that Amelia Earhart didn’t actually do any flying the first time? So this’ll be perfect.”

Dad stood, walked to the window, and rubbed his shoulder. He was very still for a minute. Outside, a car drove past and then the street was quiet again. I didn’t like fighting with Dad, and mentioning Mom was kind of low, but I just wanted to get out of the house.

“All right,” he finally said. “Let’s meet this kid. Then we’ll see about driving.”

I was surprised he let it go so easily. I’d expected him to stand his ground, saying I should leave it up to Mr. Kane, or that he’d make time, or for him to at least argue a little more. But he looked tired — more than usual.

Dad turned to me. “But seriously, Alex, is this your biggest concern right now? Driving around?”

On the bed, Katy wadded up the used tissue paper. I remembered Mom lying under the covers, pieces of Kleenex scattered on the floor like dogwood blossoms. “It should be.”

I almost called Jim and canceled our driving lesson that night so he wouldn’t have to come to my house, where everyone was mad at me, but then I realized that it would be worse to stay at home. Even if I drove into a ditch and the car exploded, at least Jim and I could have a normal conversation before we were crushed by tons of metal.

Jim showed up just after seven. I practically pounced on him before he could even ring the doorbell. “I’m really sorry,” I said, throwing open the door.

He stopped. “You can’t drive tonight?”

“No . . . I mean, yes,” I said. “It’s just that — my dad wants to meet you so he knows you’re not going to show me how to drive through any houses. Except right now I kind of think you should show me that. It might come in handy later.”

Jim shuffled from foot to foot. “Is your dad cleaning his shotgun or something?”

I shook my head and stepped aside so Jim could come in. “He should be grateful I’m driving at all. I always said no when he asked me to practice.”

Dad was in the kitchen, waiting for us. His eyes were almost hooded; it was way more serious than I’d ever seen him look. Katy and Teddy sat at the kitchen table, pretending to do the newspaper word scramble and smiling smugly. Geez, Dad wasn’t even going to make them leave. They were acting like this was a date — which it obviously wasn’t. Jim just felt a kinship because we both liked to wreck things with cars. I was trying not to think about it as a date, and this wasn’t helping.

“Hi,” Jim said, trying to make eye contact with everyone. “I’m Jim Wiley.”

“Hi there, Jim,” Dad drawled, reaching out for Jim’s hand and shaking it firmly.

“Well, here he is,” I said. “We’d better go before it gets dark, so —”

Dad gave me a look like I’d told a funny but inappropriate joke. “How long have you had your license, Jim?”

“About a year.” Jim pulled out his license and handed it to Dad. “I got almost a perfect score on my driving test — the written, too. And I haven’t had an accident.” He glanced at me. “Except for that whole thing with my house.”

“Yeah, how about that?” Dad said.

“I already told you,” I grumbled.

“No, it’s okay,” Jim said. “It was stupid — really stupid — and I’ve definitely learned my lesson. It was the first time anything like that had happened. I’d never even gotten a speeding ticket before then.”

“Go big or go home,” Katy said, and she and Teddy giggled. I glared at them, hoping they’d suddenly burst into flames.

Jim ignored them. “You can call my parents and ask. I’ve changed a lot in the last year.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Plus I know how much it sucks to have this driving thing hanging over you at school.”

It was the best thing he could have said. Dad knew I was a freak not only because of the whole driver’s ed debacle but because of Mom’s recent public breakdown, too. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. I had to keep myself from doing a happy dance. Although a little part of me deflated — it was just about the car thing for Jim. Chivalrous, maybe, but not exactly romantic. Even so, I’d take it.

“So can we get going?” I said. “I’d like to try that whole driving-a-mile-an-hour-in-a-straight-line thing again.”

Dad eyed us both, then said, “All right,” more to himself than to us. He tossed me the keys to Mom’s car. “Be back by nine. Sharp.” He held up his wrist. “This is the most accurate watch ever. I’ll be checking it.”

“Right, Dad. See you later,” I said, moving toward the door and practically pulling Jim along with me. Behind me, I could hear Katy start to complain about how it was so unfair that I got to go out with a boy on a school night, especially after I’d been so mean to her.

We got in the car, Jim at the wheel. I’d assumed we’d just go back to the school parking lot, but Jim turned left on Grant, away from Oak Ridge.

“Hey, school’s that way,” I said.

Jim steered the car onto another street, also not in the direction of the high school. “We can’t do the parking lot again. You’ve done that already. We need to mix it up. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to be driving in parking lots forever.”

My stomach dropped. “No, it’ll be great. I’ll go from parking lot to parking lot.”

“It won’t be anything scary. It’s all back roads. No one to hit and nothing to worry about. You don’t even have to turn.” When I dug my fingernails into the edges of the seat, he said, “We don’t
have
to, you know. I can just take us back to the parking lot.”

I didn’t want Jim to think I was some complete failure already. I peeled my fingers away from the seat. “No, it’s a good idea. Let’s mix it up.”

We drove through neighborhoods, down Archer Street, with its antique shops, past the post office and the gas station. He turned right and we headed out of town, past the movie theater and strip malls. While he drove, I kept stealing little glimpses at him. It was hard to believe that Jim Wiley, with his perfect lips and a conspiratorial laugh, was sitting next to me. He wanted to help me. It felt so natural to go driving together. I held that idea like a firefly, delicate and flashing against the night.

He veered off the main drag, onto the long road that led toward the reservoir. Out here, there weren’t many cars and trees stretched up overhead. Then we drove farther down, where there were large stretches of land — some farms, some new developments. The road wound through the country.

“It’s really pretty out here,” I said. “Although, if this were a horror movie, you’d totally be taking me to a secluded place to kill me.”

Jim laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m just lying about spending last semester with my grandparents. I was really in a mental institution.”

I tensed. It was that word again. It made me think of lobotomies and padded walls and electroshock therapy.

“Hey, you don’t have to be scared,” Jim said. At first I thought he was reading my mind, but he kept going. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, with no one to hit, and we’re going to drive two miles an hour. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Right,” I said. “Simple.”

He pulled over to the side of the road. “Let’s do this.”

I almost suggested that we skip the driving lesson and hang out somewhere instead. But Jim was already out of the car, coming around to the passenger side, so I got out and rounded the car. In front of the driver-side door, I felt my legs get heavy and numb. “Maybe I can just walk everywhere,” I said.

“You can’t walk to Mexico.” Jim swung himself into the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him. “Well, you could, but it would take a seriously long time.”

I got into the car. “Mexico? Why Mexico?”

“Why not?” he said. “Wouldn’t you want to go to Mexico? As opposed to, like, the Taco King on Harris Street?” I tried not to smile but mostly failed. “Okay, I figured we could practice driving on a real road. Just straight ahead. No U-turns, nothing scary.”

The road didn’t seem too menacing. I adjusted the mirrors and the seat. When I turned the key in the ignition, the car hummed awake. Suddenly my chest felt full, as if all the air in the car had rushed inside of me and I couldn’t take another breath or I’d explode.

“It’s okay,” Jim said. “Man, you’ve really got a phobia about this.”

“I just —” I was trying to breathe. “I don’t know —”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Look, we’re in park — see the
P
? — so we’re totally fine. Just like the car was off. And you did it last time. Nothing to worry about.”

I remembered when Mom couldn’t remember how to drive after freaking out in front of Mr. Kane. I couldn’t let myself end up like that.

“It’s okay,” I said, inhaling and exhaling again. “I’m all right.”

“You sure?” Jim looked a little nervous.

“Yeah.” I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. “I didn’t think it would be like this, you know? When I drive, I feel like I don’t have any control. It’s supposed to be all about freedom, but I don’t feel like that at all. I keep waiting for something terrible to happen.”

“Nothing terrible is going to happen,” Jim said. “No one’s here. Just us.”

“I know,” I said, even though I didn’t. Terrible things could happen anytime. You could run after a ball and get hit by a car. Your mom could go crazy in the middle of a parent-teacher conference. Your baby sister could die before she even had the chance to see the sky.

But I couldn’t talk about that with Jim yet. He was being so nice and looking at me with those beautiful eyes, as though he hoped I would be okay. I wanted to be okay. So I grabbed the gearshift. “Drive, right?”