Free Playing Nice by Rebekah Crane Page B

to what he wanted to do to Lil. I can't or I'll cry. I just want to be back at my house in my room, safe.
    "Don't you ever wonder why people made these roads so straight? Like it's against the rules to take a curved path. But nobody ever does, because then they'd end up with cow shit on their wheels and the whole town calling them a murderer." Lil says. She's talking crazy now. The drugs have messed with her brain. She might even be hallucinating. I just want to get her home so she can sleep it off.
    "What are you talking about?" When Sarah and I got drunk, I said things I would never say out loud, like how she has bad breath in the afternoon and that I think sometimes she's mean because she's insecure. Sarah said I was a prude with a mediocre voice who's destined for a life in the community theater chorus, before she stomped upstairs and left me to sleep on her basement couch.
    "Haven't you ever wondered why you stay on this straight boring road, when you can just turn the wheel?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lil move. At first I think she's just going for a cigarette or adjusting her pants, but then I see she's coming toward me, toward the steering wheel!
    My mind races, but before I can push her back, she yanks it down. DAMN IT! The car turns in a quick jerk and my stomach drops to the floor. I'm going to die doing something nice with a never-been-used vagina!
    We skid on the dirt, the car careening toward a deep, dark ditch filled with water and certain death at the bottom. Why does she hate me? Why did I come tonight? How did I forget that Tony ends up dead at the end of West Side Story ? And now, my decision to come to Lake Loraine means I'm going to die with a drugged-up Lil! Our bodies will be found at the bottom of a creek and people will always remember me as the girl who bit it with a druggie. I won't get a plaque or one of those flowered wreaths on the side of the highway, just a dedicated PSA about the dangers of drug use!
    I slam on the brakes, my hands clenched so tightly I think the paramedics might have to pry my lifeless fingers one by one from the steering wheel. A cloud of dust encases the car, and seconds before we disappear over the edge, it stops.
    "What the hell are you doing?! Are you stupid?!" I yell as I push her hand away.
    Lil doesn't even flinch, just plops back in the seat, eyes half-closed and empty. "You tell me. We're in the same English class."
    "You could have killed us!" I think I'm having a panic-induced heart attack. Everything is fuzzy and numb and hot. Angry tears prickle my eyes, begging to be released.
    "You should scream at me." Lil looks at me. Her eyes are clear for the first time since I pulled her away from the lake and the guy with the tainted beer. "Go on; do it."
    I shake my head back and forth. What good would that do in this moment? I need to get her home before she tries to do another crazy thing, like pull out all her hair or cut herself. That's what nice people do. They help and smile.
    "What are you so afraid of, Pollyanna?"
    "Don't call me that," I bark. But the nagging pinch in my chest is back and growing with every moment I spend with Lil. It's a balloon expanding in my lungs, pushing me to my breaking point, and I just want to pop it.
    "Go on, Marty, do it."
    I look at Lil with her crystal blue eyes and fire in her voice, like a match dangling over a pile of wood drenched in gasoline. All she has to do is drop it.
    "Why?" My voice wobbles.
    "Do it!" Lil yells, jerking her head, her dark hair swishing chaotically.
    I don't know why I roll down the window, why I stick my head out, why the weight of seventeen years is pressing on every speck of my being and screaming, at this very moment, feels like the only thing in the world that will ease the pain. I suck in a gulp of air and open my mouth. I don't know what will come out. A weak meow. A short staccato bark.
    And then a yelp releases from the bottom of my gut, like a corked champagne bottle popped and