Free Waiting Fate by W.B. Kinnette

down on the gas pedal, shooting out of the driveway. Her tires squealed as she spun around the corner and onto the highway. By the time she reached the freeway she was going fast enough to lose her license if she got caught, but all she could think of was Desee, and her foot didn’t let up. She roared into Playground Sports’ parking lot fifteen minutes later, alarmed to see a crowd gathered around her parents’ SUV. She was out of the car before she had put it in park, almost falling as a wave of dizziness threatened to take over, and hit the unlock button on the spare key as she crashed against the hood of her own car.
    Bev swung the SUV door open, making cooing noises. “She’s okay. She’s okay!” Bev called over her shoulder.
    Jack came over, putting his arm around Ivy. “Are you okay?” She nodded, swallowing hard. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, the pain and sickness was back. “Um… how fast were you going?” He lowered his eyebrows at her and she forced a smile.
    “You don’t want to know,” she said, trying not to wheeze like some weird diseased person.
    ****
    Monday morning, Jack bundled her up and dragged her to the doctor. “You have a nasty case of strep throat,” the kind man with white hair and spectacles told her. He had a southern drawl and he was big — like he had maybe been a Texas football player in his younger days. He gave Ivy a prescription for antibiotics and a warning to stay away from everyone for twenty-four hours. She curled up in bed and cursed the fact that she was missing school.
    Where you been? Ivy smiled at the text. Gunner, checking up on her.
    Dying. Almost better though . It was true, the antibiotics were working wonders.
    Seconds later, her phone beeped again. How long you grounded for? Ivy grinned. Gunner had a rare ability to make her laugh. All the boys did, even Jay in all his orneriness, but Gunner was especially good at it.
    I’ll be ungrounded tomorrow morning, but I think I’m skipping school . Again .
    It was a half-hour later, while Ivy was watching cartoons with Desee, that her phone beeped again. Game night at your house, tomorrow night. Ivy felt her heart heal a little more. They were great, amazing friends, these boys of hers.
    Can’t wait.
    The next morning, when Ivy had most of her voice back, she looked up the number for the judicial court in Alaska. Her fingers shook as she dialed, and her voice wavered as she asked the clerk who she should talk to. “Well, I can probably answer your question,” the woman said. Her voice was efficient but not frightening, although none of that mattered if one had a still-unnamed phone phobia.
    Ivy explained her situation, finishing with, “My ex — er, soon-to-be ex-husband says our baby has to live in Alaska for the two months prior to the court date for it to be under Alaskan jurisdiction. But I don’t want to live in the same state as he does, if I can help it.”
    “And you already have a court date set?” the woman asked.
    “Yes. In a month.”
    “Well, it’s a complicated situation, and he might be right, but that doesn’t mean you have to move back here. All it means is that you might have to file for divorce in the state the child is living in. But, since you have a court date, I would keep it and see what the judge says.”
    “Okay. Thank you so much.” Ivy hung up feeling better than she had in days. Hope. There was hope on the horizon.
    ****
    Gunner was the first to show up. Ivy opened the door in baggy red sweatpants and an oversize black sweatshirt, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. Oh yeah, I look gorgeous. But she didn’t have enough energy to make herself presentable. “Hey.” She smiled, but her voice still sounded embarrassingly froggish.
    Gunner stepped through the back door, carrying several board games in his arms. “Everyone else is coming. They had to stop and get ‘drinks.’” He rolled his eyes.
    Ivy looked up, alarmed. “They aren’t bringing them here, are