exception of the
heater, which must be on high because I’m starting to feel my
fingers again. It’s only when my back presses into the seat that I
realize the car is moving at a speed suggesting jet propulsion. I
turn tentatively and study the profile that has illogically
scorched itself into my brain. My thoughts suddenly speed up.
“ Wait ! Aren’t we fleeing the scene of
an accident?”
“Were you in an accident?” Ever Casey asks
with a sidelong glance in my direction.
I have to stop and think about this. One
second I was crossing the street in the pouring rain; the next
there was a pickup truck about to mow me down.
“Um … I guess not. But then how … ?”
He glances at me, his expression quizzical,
before returning his attention to driving.
“I found you dazed on the side of the road.
You must have jumped out of the way of that truck. Then I helped
you to the curb. Perhaps you hit your head when you fell.” He looks
back at me. “Are you feeling all right now?”
I nod uncertainly while I begin to run this
version of events through my mind. My head is still aching, so the
dizziness makes sense, sort of. But when I try to picture myself
leaping out of the way of a speeding vehicle, I can’t do it. No one
I know would ever accuse me of being that agile—not by a long shot.
I strain my memory, latching onto a hazy image of a pickup truck
floating away from me. I try to grip the image, but it feels like
it’s being pulled away from me.
A vibration against my hip makes me jump, and
I wince as the edge of the seatbelt cuts painfully into my
collarbone. Then I remember—my mom! I was on the phone with her.
But I was holding my phone when … I shake my head, cutting short my
analysis of how I’m not dead and how my phone made its way into my
pocket.
“Mom?”
“Wren, are you all right?” Her voice is laced
with the same panic from the day I woke up in the hospital. “I
heard a screeching sound, and then your phone cut out. I thought
something happened. I’ve been calling …”
Her voice cuts off in a half-sob.
“Mom, calm down. There was an accident across
the street. Sorry, I forgot to call you back.”
She sighs, and I feel a stab of guilt, though
I’m not sure why. It’s not like I even remember exactly what
happened. This fact, unfortunately, doesn’t make me feel
better.
“Honey, you nearly gave me a heart attack.
Are you still walking?”
I sigh as her normal level of maternal
anxiety sets in. Tread carefully here , a voice in my head
tells me.
“Um, a friend from school was passing by and
offered me a ride.”
I can almost hear her mind clicking through
the names I’ve mentioned over the past few weeks.
“Ashley?” she asks, the relief evident in her
voice.
“It’s …”
I pause uncomfortably and glance in Ever’s
direction.
“Oh! It’s that boy, isn’t it? What’s his
name? Jake? Josh!”
She’s talking loud enough that he can
probably hear her. I feel my cheeks flushing. Restrain yourself,
Mother , I think savagely.
“I’ve gotta go, Mom. Love you.”
I snap the phone closed. When I look around,
I’m more than a little surprised to see that the car has stopped
moving. Turning toward the driver’s side, I find Ever Casey
watching me, waiting for me to finish the awkward conversation with
my mom. Just like every other time I’ve looked at his face, I can’t
stop staring. On the bright side, I’ve grown slightly more
comfortable with—or at least accustomed to—his mental muteness. I
had always thought that hearing people’s thoughts was awkward; now
complete silence feels even weirder. It doesn’t matter, though,
because it’s not like I can ask him why I can’t hear him without
revealing that I can snoop around people’s heads.
Well … everyone’s head except for his.
I can’t think of a single thing to say, so I
look out the window, squinting through the heavily tinted glass
that’s being blurred by the downpour. The house
heater, which must be on high because I’m starting to feel my
fingers again. It’s only when my back presses into the seat that I
realize the car is moving at a speed suggesting jet propulsion. I
turn tentatively and study the profile that has illogically
scorched itself into my brain. My thoughts suddenly speed up.
“ Wait ! Aren’t we fleeing the scene of
an accident?”
“Were you in an accident?” Ever Casey asks
with a sidelong glance in my direction.
I have to stop and think about this. One
second I was crossing the street in the pouring rain; the next
there was a pickup truck about to mow me down.
“Um … I guess not. But then how … ?”
He glances at me, his expression quizzical,
before returning his attention to driving.
“I found you dazed on the side of the road.
You must have jumped out of the way of that truck. Then I helped
you to the curb. Perhaps you hit your head when you fell.” He looks
back at me. “Are you feeling all right now?”
I nod uncertainly while I begin to run this
version of events through my mind. My head is still aching, so the
dizziness makes sense, sort of. But when I try to picture myself
leaping out of the way of a speeding vehicle, I can’t do it. No one
I know would ever accuse me of being that agile—not by a long shot.
I strain my memory, latching onto a hazy image of a pickup truck
floating away from me. I try to grip the image, but it feels like
it’s being pulled away from me.
A vibration against my hip makes me jump, and
I wince as the edge of the seatbelt cuts painfully into my
collarbone. Then I remember—my mom! I was on the phone with her.
But I was holding my phone when … I shake my head, cutting short my
analysis of how I’m not dead and how my phone made its way into my
pocket.
“Mom?”
“Wren, are you all right?” Her voice is laced
with the same panic from the day I woke up in the hospital. “I
heard a screeching sound, and then your phone cut out. I thought
something happened. I’ve been calling …”
Her voice cuts off in a half-sob.
“Mom, calm down. There was an accident across
the street. Sorry, I forgot to call you back.”
She sighs, and I feel a stab of guilt, though
I’m not sure why. It’s not like I even remember exactly what
happened. This fact, unfortunately, doesn’t make me feel
better.
“Honey, you nearly gave me a heart attack.
Are you still walking?”
I sigh as her normal level of maternal
anxiety sets in. Tread carefully here , a voice in my head
tells me.
“Um, a friend from school was passing by and
offered me a ride.”
I can almost hear her mind clicking through
the names I’ve mentioned over the past few weeks.
“Ashley?” she asks, the relief evident in her
voice.
“It’s …”
I pause uncomfortably and glance in Ever’s
direction.
“Oh! It’s that boy, isn’t it? What’s his
name? Jake? Josh!”
She’s talking loud enough that he can
probably hear her. I feel my cheeks flushing. Restrain yourself,
Mother , I think savagely.
“I’ve gotta go, Mom. Love you.”
I snap the phone closed. When I look around,
I’m more than a little surprised to see that the car has stopped
moving. Turning toward the driver’s side, I find Ever Casey
watching me, waiting for me to finish the awkward conversation with
my mom. Just like every other time I’ve looked at his face, I can’t
stop staring. On the bright side, I’ve grown slightly more
comfortable with—or at least accustomed to—his mental muteness. I
had always thought that hearing people’s thoughts was awkward; now
complete silence feels even weirder. It doesn’t matter, though,
because it’s not like I can ask him why I can’t hear him without
revealing that I can snoop around people’s heads.
Well … everyone’s head except for his.
I can’t think of a single thing to say, so I
look out the window, squinting through the heavily tinted glass
that’s being blurred by the downpour. The house
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