Free Down With the Shine by Kate Karyus Quinn

his hand fall into his lap.
    “Next time roll the window down if you need more air.” It’s a lame attempt at humor, but I don’t know what else to say. Smith doesn’t react. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me.
    “Hey, you okay?” I reach toward his bloodied hand, which is now resting on his lap.
    “Don’t touch me,” he snaps. “It only makes it worse.”
    I snatch my hand back, hurt despite myself, but all I say is, “Light’s green.”
    As the car rolls forward once more, I cross my arms over my chest and go back to looking out my window.
    This is fucked this is fucked this is so fucked screams the chorus in my head once more.
    This time I don’t even try to tune it out.

WELL
    W hen we reach Smith’s house, neither one of us makes a move to get out of the car. “Beep the horn,” I say impulsively.
    “What?” Smith gives me a disdainful glance.
    “Maybe she’ll hear it and come running out.” It sounds lame when I say it aloud. I was hoping the opposite would be true, since it had also sounded pretty bad when I’d tried it out in my head.
    “What, you think she’s inside, like, watching TV or something right now?” This time he twists in his seat and faces me full on so that I cannot possibly miss how monumentally stupid he thinks I am. You’d think a guy with a black eye and busted lip wouldn’t be able to pull that look off, but if anything the bruises enhance it.
    “You’re an asshole,” I say, and finally I find the momentum to climb out of the car and slam the door behindme. Still pissed, I march up to the front door and . . . it’s locked. Luckily, I’ve seen Dylan retrieve the spare key from behind the loose brick enough times to get it in my hands and start fitting it in the lock by the time Smith saunters up behind me.
    “You’ll set off the alarm,” he says.
    “You don’t have an alarm,” I shoot back as I push the door open. Immediately an alarm begins to shriek. Pushing past me, Smith punches numbers into a keypad beside the door.
    “So that’s new,” I say as the alarm goes quiet and Smith turns to face me.
    “Actually, we’ve always had it, but Dyl was constantly setting it off accidentally so Teena had the service disconnected. Then after Dyl . . .” Smith shrugs, letting me fill in the blank there. “Teena was freaked out and had it reactivated.”
    “Is . . .” I glance around. “Is Teena home?” It’s weird even mentioning her around Smith, but if he is bothered, he doesn’t show it.
    Smith shakes his head. “She’s out of town for the weekend.”
    “Oh.” I nod, and then realize that neither of us has taken a single step away from the front door. “I guess we should check Dyl’s room, right?” I ask, knowing I’m risking Smith biting my head off again.
    But he just looks up at the ceiling, as if searching for some sort of sign. I’m guessing he doesn’t find one, ’cause his gaze returns to me. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you wished for her sleeping safe in her own bed, right? So that’s where she’d probably be.”
    “I don’t think I said sleeping. Did I say sleeping? ’Cause then would that mean that she never wakes up?”
    “How the hell should I know? It was your wish.”
    “I didn’t know it was a real wish! And I was drunk so I don’t remember what I said!” I close my eyes, knowing if I see Smith smirk at me one more time I’ll punch him in the face. And then I remember the wish with such perfect clarity that I can recall the exact way that the words felt on my lips. “‘Alive and safe in her own bed.’ That’s what I said. Not sleeping. Just alive. And safe.”
    “Okay then,” Smith says. “That’s good.” He hesitates a moment longer, then suddenly turns and plants his fist into the wall behind him. Pulling it out of the crumbly drywall, he nods. “I’m ready.” And with his usual long strides, Smith heads farther into the house.
    I chase behind him. “Hey, maybe you can give me a warning the next time