Valley of the Moon by Bronwyn Archer Page B

right? I could still have a happy life.
    Starting in Hawaii with Caleb Weaver.
    I was lost in my favorite daydream—me and Caleb running on a white-sand beach in slow mo—and didn’t notice I was doing sixty up the hill. By the time I saw the lights in the rearview mirror, a Napa Valley sheriff’s cruiser was right behind me. I had never been pulled over before.
    I pulled over to the shoulder. I watched the sheriff get out of his cruiser and amble over to me. He was wearing tall black boots and mirrored aviators with his tan uniform.
    His feet crunched on the ground as he approached. I tightened my grip on my steering wheel, hands at ten and two o’clock.
    He got to my window, which was already down. I looked up as innocently as I could. My throat was dry and tears sparked behind my eyes.
    “Hello, Officer.”
    “Young lady, you were in quite a hurry, weren’t you?” That gruff voice. I knew that voice. My hands got clammy and I started to shake. It’s probably not him. Relax.
    “Yes.”
    “I clocked you doing 68 back there. You have any idea how much the ticket for that is?”
    I shook my head.
    “License and registration?” I handed him my license but he didn’t look at it. He eyeballed the inside of the Mustang.
    “This your car?”
    “It’s my dad’s. He let me drive it.” I smoothed my uniform skirt and tried to pull it down towards my knees. He took off his sunglasses and hung them from his breast pocket. Up close he looked more like a bodybuilder than a sheriff, with a thick neck that looked like it was going to split his tan polyester shirt collar any minute. Beady eyes a little too close together. Fleshy lips.
    Then I saw his nametag. JENNER.
    My heart thumped hard against my ribs. A greasy wave of nausea rocked through me. He stared at me and his eyes narrowed. He recognizes you. Oh God.
    He held my license up to his face and laughed.
    “Lana Goodwin! Well now. Remember me?” His eyes flicked down to my chest. I tugged my skirt down as he peered into the car. “All grown up now, I see. Last time we met you were, what, sixteen?”
    “Fifteen.” My voice was a whisper. My head spun. Get me out of here. Please, God.
    “Oh yeah, I remember. We met at your mom’s place. Sorry, stepmom. Wait, ex-stepmom, right?” He chuckled like he’d said something hilarious.
    I willed my body to turn into a spear so I could stab him through his guts.
    He flicked the yellow speeding citation through the window and it fluttered to my lap. Then he pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket, flipped them open, and slid them onto his face.
    “We have speed limits in this county for a reason, Miss Goodwin. Tell that father of yours if I catch either of you speeding through my valley in your fancy cars, you won’t just get a ticket. Might be looking at an impound. Or worse. Got that?” He flashed me his nasty smile. All lips, no teeth. He sauntered back to his cruiser.
    “Have a nice day,” he called back, almost sarcastically. My heart banged against my ribs like it wanted to get out and run. I crumpled the ticket and tossed it on the passenger seat. He peeled out from the shoulder and blew past me into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding a van.
    He disappeared over the rise.
    It wasn’t until I got to school that I stopped hyperventilating. I picked up the ticket and smoothed it out on my knee.
    “Unsafe speed. Fine: $328.” It was signed “Officer Wade Jenner.”
    My brief lucky streak had come to an end.
     
    ***
     
    Ten minutes until spring break and Ms. Fonseca, who had replaced Mr. Quarry this semester, was talking about “the other” in Faulkner. None of the girls in the senior English seminar were listening. We all want to be in an “other” place right now, Ms. Fonseca.
    My phone vibrated in my skirt pocket. Then again, three times. I peeked at it when Ms. Fonseca wasn’t looking.
    The first was from Caleb.
    Leaving LA soon. See you tonight!!
    The other three were from Eden.
    Hi Lana. It’s