"My mom stole my car."
Dale laughs. "What?!"
"Yeah, hers is in the shop getting fixed and she took off with mine for the day. She didn't even offer to swing by and collect me after school. Man, I hate catching the bus. You saved me, bro."
"Not a problem."
The car revs to life and Dale swings out of the parking lot.
I really don't like Dale's car. It's an old Toyota Corolla. A mustard yellow hunk of junk. Adam rolls down the window and we all wince at the high pitched screech.
"Sorry, man." Dale grins. "Had to save for this baby on my own, so it's... an inbetweener."
"Nah, it's cool."
Adam is being very polite. He owns a gorgeous midnight blue mustang that guys drool over and girls want rides in. He got it for his 16th birthday. It was a gift from his rich uncle and apparently his Dad (Sheriff Hutton) totally flipped out. After an epic battle he was allowed to keep the car, but I think the rules are pretty strict. If he ever gets in trouble - which he never does - but if he ever did, the car would be the first thing to go.
Adam is a really nice guy, but man, he struts like a peacock when he's walking into school each morning.
I roll my eyes as we bump our way to the Hutton home.
My phone chirps again and Dale reaches for it.
He frowns.
"You know it's really dangerous to read and drive."
He glances in the rearview mirror and shoots me a dry look. I grin.
Clearing his throat, Dale drops the phone in his lap and looks at Adam.
"You voted in the Nicole Poll today?"
"Nah, man. I'm not into that stuff." Adam looks out the window and clears his throat.
"Do you know her very well?"
"What are you doing?" I lean forward.
Adam shrugs.
"Yeah, sort of. We used to hang out a little when we were kids."
"So, what's up with her?
"What'd you mean?"
"Come on." Dale smiles. "Was she always like this?"
"Always like what?"
"You know, outspoken, irritating..."
I punch Dale as hard as I can. My fist goes straight through his shoulder, but at least I see him shiver.
Adam's still looking out the window, but gives a hearty laugh. I throw him the evils.
"No way." Adam shakes his head and turns back to face his friend. "She used to be awesome. We hung out all the time in middle school. There was this massive group of us and we used to do everything together. Nicole was always really organized and she'd come up with this whacky stuff for us to do."
I notice Dale's head tip to the side and his eyes narrow slightly. "What happened?"
"It's none of your business," I whisper sharply.
"Jody."
"Who?"
Adam glances at Dale. "You don't know this story?"
Dale shakes his head.
"Jody was Nicole's little sister. She was this cute little blonde kid with a constant smile. Pure sunshine, you know?"
My heart begins to pound so hard I think it might burst out of my chest. I push my fingers into the middle of my ribcage.
"Nicole adored her. One day she..." Adam clears his throat.
Don't say it. Don't tell him, Adam. I want to scream the words aloud, but I know it won't do any good.
"She fell out of a tree, broke her neck and died."
My ears start ringing as I slump back into my seat.
"She was only nine," Adam ended softly.
"Whoa." Dale's knuckles are white as they grip the wheel. "That explains a lot."
"Nicole was the one who found her."
Dale's head jerks to the side. The surprise on his face is unmissable, swiftly followed by sadness. I turn away from it. There's nothing I can say to stop this.
"She's never been the same since. She went into hiding over the summer and then when she got to high school she started hanging out with..."
"The wrong kinda people?"
"Pretty much." Adam nods.
The car fills with that eerie silence that follows tragic news. I keep my eyes out the window, watching the world slow to a stop as Dale pulls into Adam's driveway. Dale pulls up the parking brake as Adam opens his door.
"Do you think she's run away?"
Adam pauses and scratches the nape of his neck.
"I don't know, man. Maybe." His Adam’s apple shoots down his throat and back up again before he forces a smile and gets out of the car.
Dale waits for the slam of the door before reversing onto the road. I watch Adam walk to his door then turn and watch us leave. I swivel in the seat and look out the back window as he gazes after us.
Part of me wants to hate him. Another part has to admit that it was going to come out eventually.
I glance back at Dale. He keeps looking in the rearview mirror, searching for my response.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I don't say anything. I can't. Adam is soon out of view. I keep looking out the back window, unable to face Dale. He was the one person at school who didn't know.
I hate that the status quo has changed.
Dale clears his throat.
"You want to sit in front with me?"
"No, I'm fine back here," I mumble.
The car eases to a stop. Slowly I turn around to see Dale facing me.
"I'm sorry." His voice is soft.
"For what?" My voice is hard.
His eyes fill with compassion as he whispers, "I'm sorry you had to find your sister like that. I'm sorry you lost her."
"I don't want to talk about it." I clear my throat.
"Nic-"
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!"
Dale jolts back in his seat and accidentally hits the horn. Adjusting his position, he swivels back to face the road and gives a short, "Okay."
Putting the car in gear, we bunny hop forward for a second until Dale finds his rhythm. I'm still clinging to my numbness - the only form of protection I've known since the accident.
I close my eyes.
Jody.
I squeeze my hand into a tight fist, willing it to hurt. I used to be able to draw blood. I open my hand now and see nothing... of course. You can't cut ghosts' skin... just their hearts.
Silence fills the car until we pass the turn off to Matt's house and start heading further into the forest.
"Anything look familiar?"
I lean towards the glass and shake my head.
"Nicole?"
"It all looks the same." I sigh. "I could have been anywhere around here."
"Just keep looking, see if something sparks a memory."
I do what I'm told and ask Dale to slow down about five minutes later.
"This could be it. I mean there's a steep bank all along this road."
"Well, let's get out and take a look."
Dale looks hopeful as he jumps out the door and starts walking along the road.
"If you were hit, there will probably be markings or damage to the guardrail," he calls over his shoulder. "You head up that way and I'll try down here, see if we spot anything."
I grab the dog tags around my neck as I march up the road, looking at the guardrail. I've walked at least a 100 yards when I turn around and shout, "I don't see anything. The railing looks fine."
"Same down here." Dale's voice wafts back to me. "Come on, let's drive a little further."
We spend the next hour jumping in and out of the car. The guardrail is fine along the entire road and by mile fifteen, I'm totally over it.