Free Fragmented by Eliza Lentzski Page A

knew nothing about the daily challenges being in a wheelchair provided, and it showed in the naivety of my questioning.
    “My parents are paying my aunt a stipend to help me out,” she continued. “She drives me to and from school and brings me to physical therapy downtown. I could probably take a bus or the L, but I’m still a little nervous about public transportation with my chair.”
    I wanted to continue our conversation, but I hadn’t been invited. I was only here to get the notes I’d missed. “Thanks again for the notes,” I said when I’d finished copying the information. I tucked my notebook back into my school bag and returned her notes to hers.
    “It's really no big deal,” Raleigh insisted. Her lips curled at the edges. “Besides, now you owe me one.”
    Technically we were even because I’d given her my notes when she’d had to miss class for physical therapy, but I found I didn’t mind being in debt to her. I smiled back. “I guess I do.” I slung my bag over one shoulder and paused at her bedroom door. “Is it okay if I go out the front door? Or is your aunt going to freak out?”
    “You'll be fine. She’s probably in her room praying or something.” Raleigh made a face. “’I’m sorry I can’t see you out,” she apologized. “Getting into my chair is this whole big thing and the hallway is carpeted, which slows me down even more.” It surprised me how unsure she looked. It was the first time I’d ever seen her uncomfortable.
    I waved a hand. “No, no,” I dismissed. “I’m the one who showed up without warning you.”
    “That’s true,” Raleigh noted, tilting her head. “Hey, have you heard about a Fall Harvest Festival out on County Road W this weekend?”
    “Yeah. It’s kind of like an early Halloween-Homecoming-Oktoberfest hybrid party that Cook County puts on,” I confirmed with a nod. “They have pumpkin carving and hayrides, and kids get their faces painted and all that. I went freshman year with some of my friends.”
    “Would you want to go with me?” she asked.
    My heart fluttered in my chest and my throat constricted. “Oh, I, um.” I had no rational reason to say no. It was still too early in the school year to have fallen behind in homework, and I didn’t have to babysit for the Henderson’s on the weekends.
    “Fall is my favorite season, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to get my chair through the terrain on my own, and my aunt will be busy at a booth her church is hosting.” She tugged her lip between her top and lower rows of teeth. “And I really haven’t met too many people, and now that I’m saying the words out loud, I realize it’s probably a big inconvenience to ask you to drive all the way out here again.”
    I couldn’t ignore how my once fluttering heart now seemed to drop into my stomach. I forced a grin to my face. “It’s no inconvenience at all. Besides, I owe you one, remember?” I assured her. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

 
    + + +
     
    “You know this is how scary movies start, right?” I announced uneasily. “Two college students on an abandoned county highway take a wrong turn and get cannibalized by a family of inbred hillbillies.”
    My car bumped down the unpaved road. It was a foggy night, and I leaned forward, close to the windshield, to make out the road signs ahead. I didn’t often drive out to farm country, and the county highways were unfamiliar.
    “I’m pretty sure I can list at least half a dozen movies that start off with that exact scenario,” Raleigh laughed.
    Despite my discomfort, I was admittedly eager to spend time with Raleigh outside of school. In the few minutes before the classes we shared we never got the chance to really talk, and at lunch Lauren’s inane questions always dominated the conversation.
    I put on my turn signal and pulled my car into a makeshift parking lot that doubled as a harvested cornfield.
    “What’s your favorite scary movie?” she asked