Free Puppet by Pauline C. Harris Page A

thoroughly lost in the conversation.  “I guess not,” I say quickly, a little dazed to find that as the words slip easily from my throat, it’s true. 
    James pauses.  “Well, you are.” 
    I feel my eyebrows arch upward in surprise and I turn to see that he’s watching me, his blue eyes ebony in the dark.  I give him a confused look and am just about to open my mouth and ask him why he brought this up when James looks past me and his eyes widen.  “Pen!” he shouts.           
    I turn around just in time to see some large deer-like animal darting across the road a few feet in front of us.  I turn sharply, feeling the animal hit the front of the car as we swerve off the road, making a dent in James’s door.  I hit the brake pedal and scream as the car starts rolling, making crunching noises and bending like plastic.  My seatbelt tightens as the car spins over on its top, dangling me above what should be the ceiling.  The vehicle skids to a stop and I stare down at the window, breathing hard, my cross dangling downwards, closer to my face than my chest. 
    “James?” I ask, my voice wavering.  There’s no response.  “James!” 
    “I’m fine,” I hear him say.  “Are you okay?” 
    “Yeah, can you get out?”  I begin fiddling with my seatbelt, trying to unlock it, but it seems to be jammed.  I tug it a few times and then smash the button, falling to the bottom of the car with a yelp.  I look up, but it’s too dark to see anything; the hood is crushed in and I can barely make out James’s figure. 
    “My seatbelt’s not working,” he tells me. 
    I feel around for the door handle, but I feel completely reversed.  I’m sitting on something cold and it takes me a minute to realize its glass from the windshield.  Something touches my hair and I gasp before realizing it’s only the dangling seatbelt.  I can hear James wrestling with his own, so I look harder for the handle, finally finding it and pushing the door open. 
    I tumble out onto the grass, wincing as cuts on my arms come to life with their stinging.  I hurry around to James’s side of the car and my heart sinks as I see that most of his door has been crushed shut.  I kneel down beside it, adrenaline racing through my system.
    “James?” I call, pulling at the handle, but to no avail.  I let out a frustrated sigh and yank on it, pulling it from its place, leaving the door still slammed in.  I toss the handle away and search for another opening.  The window already looks cracked.
    “James?” I say.  “I’m gonna break the window.”
    I hear him answer, but I can’t quite make out his words.  I hit the window gently, trying not to make the glass shatter and after a few attempts, I slam my fist against the glass, wincing as I feel the shards penetrate my skin.  I grip the inside of the window and pull, glad for once that Jed made me a marionette.  The metal groans as I pull with all my might, whimpering slightly as it digs into my palms, feeling warm, sticky blood slide down my arms.  I can see James inside the car; somehow he’s gotten out of his seatbelt and is trying to help me open the door.  I’ve only made the gap a little wider, so I start to push away the fragments of glass around the edges while James begins to pull himself through.  I grab his hands and pull and he crawls out onto the grass.
    “Are you okay?” I ask desperately; it’s too dark to see if he’s hurt or not.  I can barely make out his nod.  Just then he looks down and I notice one of my hands is still clasped in his.  I begin to pull away but he doesn’t let go.
    “Is this blood?” he asks quietly.  Now that I look closer I notice it’s all over his hands as well, although it looks black in the dark. 
    “It’s just from the door,” I tell him.  I can tell he’s frowning. 
    “We need to get back,” he says, getting up and pulling me with him. 
    I stare at the crumpled car, barely recognizable in the