Free Destruction: The December People, Book One by Sharon Bayliss

would you?”
    “Do you really know how to do that?” Samantha asked. The question worried Patrick.
No one
knew how to do that.
    “Do you trust me?”
    “No,” Patrick and Samantha said, but it didn’t matter. He meant the question for Emmy.
    “Do you think I would do something that would put you in danger?” Jude asked Emmy, watching her in the rearview mirror.
    “No. You wouldn’t,” Emmy said.
    Jude smiled. “Then let’s do it.”
    Morning commuters clogged the interstate, making it extremely dangerous with
both
eyes open. Cars darted from lane to lane unpredictably as their drivers became impatient. Unexpected pockets of traffic caused brake lights to go on and off in chaotic patterns.
Please be joking. Please be joking.
    They weren’t.
    Emmy placed one small hand over each of Jude’s eyes. Patrick considered his options. He had to do something. He didn’t want himself and his siblings to die in the stupidest way possible. That should have been his only real concern, but he also thought about Samantha. He wanted to show her he had some power over Jude, that he could do
something
to stop a terrible thing from happening. But what?
    Patrick put his hand on the wheel, between Jude’s. The brake pedal concerned him more, but without climbing on top of Jude, he couldn’t reach it. If it he had to, he would jump on his brother’s lap and take over. He unbuckled his seat belt.
    “Patrick,” Jude said. “Buckle your damn seatbelt. Are you suicidal or something?”
    Well, he did have good hearing, anyway.
    “Are
you
?”
    “Don’t yell at me. I’m trying to concentrate.”
    Only about twenty seconds had passed, but it felt like twenty years. Either way, Jude had stayed within the lane lines. A freaking miracle.
    “Okay. We’re all really impressed. Emmy, take your hands off,” Patrick said. “There’s a car braking in front of you! Open your fucking eyes.”
    Jude applied the brakes lightly and didn’t hit the car.
    “Patrick, get your hand off the wheel,” Jude said. “You’re in my way.”
    Patrick thought everyone in the car could hear his heart pounding behind his ribs.
    “Okay. Amazing. Now open your eyes… no don’t change lanes! What are you doing?”
    Jude put on his blinker and moved into the lane to his right to pass the car that had slowed down in front of him. Samantha grabbed Patrick’s shoulder and dug her fingernails into him. This made his heart start beating wildly for a completely different reason.
    “Okay, Emmy,” Jude said.
    She took her hands off his eyes. Jude sighed happily and grinned at Patrick.
    “Pretty cool, huh? You want me to teach you that?”
    “I’m never getting in a car with you again,” Patrick said.

avid picked up his kids from therapy. They waited in the lobby patiently while he introduced himself to their respective therapists. They had an impressive spread of qualifications and strong handshakes. He asked them what he should do. They both wrote down book recommendations. Evangeline’s therapist, a composed and inviting African-American woman with perfect skin, suggested a memorial service for their mother. He felt like an asshole for not thinking of it himself. David asked Xavier’s therapist, a librarian-type older white woman with a Bible on her desk, if Xavier had talked at all. She said he had but didn’t expand.
    “Teenage boys are always tough nuts to crack,” she said. “Try talking to him about the things he likes. Easy things.”
    David wanted to ask for examples but didn’t want to make it obvious he knew almost nothing about his son. If they thought his kids were hopelessly broken, they didn’t say so.
    He asked the kids if they wanted to go shopping on the way home, but they said no. He let them stay silent on the drive. He asked only one question.
    “Was therapy okay?”
    They both nodded in the rearview mirror.
    “Okay,” he said.
    His phone rang. He answered with his Bluetooth.
    “This is David.”
    “Hey… David. How