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Josie paused. What
had
just happened to her? She had absolutely no clue. One minute she was counting train cars, then the Teal Monster jumped off its tires and something blinded her. A flash. From the train, maybe? She thought it had come from that direction, but what on the train could have produced a flash that painfully bright? She remembered squeezing her eyes shut against the blue-white light. And then . . .

Nothing.

She needed to talk this through with someone right away. Someone who would listen and wouldn’t judge. Like Madison.

Josie drove crosstown, the stupid mirror sliding back and forth in her trunk at every stop sign. All this drama for a mirror. She wanted to stop the car, haul the thing out, and smash it into a million pieces.

At the sight of Madison’s car in the driveway, Josie breathed a sigh of relief. She ran up the driveway, taking the wooden steps to the enclosed patio two at a time, and rang the doorbell.

Josie crossed her right foot behind her and tapped the toe of her pink tweed Converse impatiently while she waited.
Come on, Madison! Answer the damn door.
After what seemed like forever, Josie rang the bell again, leaning on it so the old-fashioned chime tolled half dozen times.

Still nothing. Maybe Madison had the music cranked up in her room and couldn’t hear?

Josie retreated down the steps and snaked around to the backyard. Madison’s house was in one of the newer developments, with lots of land in between the homes and absolutely no fences, unlike the craftsman Josie’s parents owned in the old part of town, where the lots were practically on top of one another. Josie half expected to hear Madison’s favorite Pandora station blaring from the open window of her second-floor bedroom, but the whole house was oddly quiet.

She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Four forty-five. Nick might be done with practice. It was worth a shot. She hit the call button and held her breath.

As the phone rang in Josie’s ear, another sound drifted down from above. A tinny rendition of Josie and Nick’s song. Which was also his custom ringtone for her calls.

Josie froze. Her phone continued to ring before it went to voice mail. “Hey, this is Nick. You know what to do.”

Josie hit redial before the beep. She didn’t even hold the phone to her ear, her arm lank by her side as she gazed up at the house. Once again, the opening chords of their song drifted down from the second floor. Through the open window in Madison’s bedroom.

With a shaky hand, Josie ended the call and immediately dialed Madison’s cell.

Another cell-phone ringtone pierced the stillness of the afternoon—“Weird Science” by an old eighties band called Oingo Boingo—which Madison had programmed for Josie.

From the room above, someone silenced the phone after just a few seconds of ringing.

“Shit,” said a male voice.

Nick’s voice.

Josie caught a flicker of movement at the curtain in Madison’s window. A flutter as if someone had peeked out, then quickly let the fabric fall back into place.

“Shit.” Madison’s voice echoed.

Josie felt all the warmth drain out of her body. Her hands went numb, and the landscaped backyard blurred in and out of focus. The realization was slow and painful. Her best friend. Her boyfriend. The oldest cliché in the book.

“Seriously?” Josie said out loud. Her voice shook. “On our anniversary?
Seriously?
”

Nick’s head of disheveled black hair filled the window. “Josie,” he said. “I can explain.”

“Explain? Explain
what
?” Josie tottered backward across the uneven lawn, then forced her legs to work. She needed to get to the car. She needed to get out of there.

Josie rounded the front of the house just as the patio door creaked open.

“Josie!” Madison screamed. She was still buttoning up the cashmere sweater she’d worn to school that day. “Wait.”

Josie broke into a run, desperate to get to the Teal Monster.

Nick was faster. She could feel his runner’s stride pounding up behind her as she yanked open her car door. “Josie, stop!”

“Screw you.” Josie ducked inside and locked the door. Nick slammed his fist onto the driver’s-side window, but Josie didn’t even look at him. She couldn’t. She fumbled with the keys; her hand shook violently as she turned over the ignition and she could already feel the hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

Josie took one look as she peeled out of the driveway. Madison stood on the lawn with her hands covering her face. Nick was in the middle of the street, arms outstretched toward her retreating car.

He hadn’t even bothered to put on his shirt.

“IS THAT YOU, JOSEPHINE?”

Josie froze midtiptoe. Dammit. Her mom was supposed to be staying late at the lab like, you know, she mentioned on the phone not even two hours ago. And when her mom said she was staying late at work, she meant it like 99.99 percent of the time.

But no. Not today. Today of all days, her mom surprised her by coming home early.

Perfect.

Josie had driven around for almost an hour, trying to decide what to do. A variety of choices crossed her mind, everything from plunging her car into the Anacostia River, to driving back to Madison’s house to tell them both exactly what she thought of them, to several other options that would have gotten her thirty to life in a state penitentiary.

For the first half hour or so her phone had rung off the hook. First Nick, then Madison, then Nick again. Rinse, repeat.

Then the texts. First Madison, in a rapid, manic stream.

Madison:
Josie, please just listen.

Madison:
It’s not what you think.

Madison:
I mean, it is, but it’s not like that.

Madison:
Nick just needed someone to talk to.

Madison:
And you’ve been so busy.

Madison:
And things just happened. I didn’t mean them to. I swear.

Then Nick. His texts came more slowly, as if he labored over what to say.

Nick:
I’m sorry.

Nick:
I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just happened.

Nick:
You’ve been so distant lately.

Nick:
I know that’s no excuse.

Nick:
I don’t know what else to say.

Josie had ignored them all. She didn’t want to talk to either of them. Especially not Nick. She didn’t want to hear him beg for forgiveness. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t. Josie recalled the conversation they had after school.
There’s something I need to talk to you about.
Maybe this had been his way of breaking up with her?

“Josephine?” her mom repeated. Her voice was louder, and Josie could clearly hear her footsteps ascending from the basement.

She should have stayed in the car.

“Josephine!” Her mom stood in the doorway that led to the basement lab, still in her white coat, with the top half of her dark brown hair twirled up on the top of her head and secured with two ballpoint pens.

“Is everything okay?”

Josie opened her mouth to say something, but the words froze on her tongue.

“What?” her mom said.

Josie flinched. She wanted to tell her mom the truth—about Nick and Madison, about her job, and about the train. She wanted a squishy hug, to feel her mom’s long fingers comb through Josie’s hair and for her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But there had been such a strain between them the last few months, a divide that neither of them seemed able to cross, and the last thing Josie needed at that moment was to be rejected by her own mother.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Josie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt suddenly dizzy; the cramped quarters of the hallway spun around her. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pray that when she woke up, she’d discover that she’d gunned the engine on her car and outrun the oncoming train.

Maybe then, none of this would have happened.

“Where’s the mirror?” her mom asked abruptly.

Right. The real reason her mom was even talking to her. “I left it in the garage.”

“Fine, fine,” she muttered more to herself than to Josie. “I’ll move it downstairs to the lab.” Then she cleared her throat and turned suddenly toward her bedroom door. “I have to go out tonight.”

Josie shook herself. “Oh.” Great. Was her mom dating now?

“Just back to the lab,” she said, as if reading Josie’s mind. “Running an experiment. Need to check in. You’ll be okay here?”

Josie shrugged. “Sure.”

“Good.” Her mom paused as if she was going to add something, then shook her head again in that odd, distracted way. “Get some rest, Josephine. You look tired.”

Time abandoned her.

Josie had been lying on her bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling for what felt like days, yet the alarm clock on her nightstand mocked her. It had only been four hours.

Stupid clock.

Her mom said she looked tired, but that was an understatement. She was exhausted, plain and simple. Hours of crying would do that. Her temples throbbed from the headache that ravaged the very depths of her brain, and her raw, bloodshot eyes ached beneath swollen lids. Her limbs were heavy, a mix of fatigue and despair, and her entire existence felt futile.

Her body and mind were completely worn down, yet she couldn’t sleep. Not for half a second had she slipped into blissful unconsciousness. She’d been aware of every moment that passed, even the sound of her mom quietly opening the front door when she got home, and dragging something heavy down the hall and into the basement. The stupid mirror, no doubt. Josie had been wide awake for all of it.

She’d tried to fall asleep, of course, for hours. All her usual tricks: counting sheep, pretending she was on a tropical island with Nick—she even looked for comfort in her favorite childhood stuffed animal, Mr. Fugly Bear. Whenever there was a thunder-and-lightning storm, her dad would bring her Mr. Fugly Bear (so named because he was missing an ear and the “thumb” off his right paw due to a washing-machine incident), who was the bravest, most rugged bear in town and would protect her from any and all danger. He’d prop Mr. Fugly Bear up against Josie’s pillow, facing the window in case any monsters tried to crawl in that way.

Whether or not Mr. Fugly Bear could protect Josie from a trampled heart was never put to the test. He always sat on one of her bookshelves, but suddenly he was gone. There was another teddy bear on the shelf that looked vaguely familiar, but no Mr. Fugly. She must have moved him when cleaning up her room, accidentally shoved him to the back of a shelf or something.

Even he knew when to jump off a sinking ship, apparently.

And so she just lay there, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t erase the last view of Nick from her mind: shirtless, standing in the middle of the street in front of Madison’s house.

Eyes open or closed, she couldn’t get that image out of her mind. And it stayed with her, mocking her pain, it seemed, until sleep finally overtook her.

There’s only a split second to decide, but it’s a no-brainer. She slams on the accelerator. The engine revs and the car careens forward as the arm of the railroad crossing descends. She holds her breath in anticipation and she grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ache. She can feel the tension in her fingers, the strain of her muscles as she wills the car onward.
Will I make it?
Too close to call. Her heart races and her breath comes in short gasps; the anticipation is palpable. Will she die in a glorious explosion as the train hits her car at full speed? She smiles. At least then all her problems would vanish.

Josie sat bolt upright.

Her heart raced, and she was sweating so badly her light cotton pajamas clung to her damp flesh like plastic wrap.

Darkness surrounded her. She was in her bedroom. In bed. Safe.
It was just a dream.

Was it? Josie held her hands up in front of her face. Her fingers curled inward, stiff and sore, as if they’d held something in a death grip.

Like a steering wheel.

SHE NEVER FELL BACK TO SLEEP. AFTER THE nightmare, a mix of insomnia and despair weighed on her, and left her sobbing in her bed late into the morning. So it was some kind of miracle that she managed to get herself to AP Physics just as the late bell rang.