“Here I am.”
I close my eyes, and try.
When I wake, we’re in a small neighborhood with dimly lit bungalows and ranch houses. We see who must be Sierra sitting on the curb in front of a small house, illuminated only by the minivan’s headlights. Her tiny outfit of a sparkle tube top and short shorts, and lack of a coat, suggests a house party, presumably where she got drunk.
“Get in the car!” Dean hollers out the window. She scrambles to get up, hair flying, picking up her backpack. She tumbles into the back seat with a bang.
“Turn the heat up, I’m fucking freezing!” She hollers at Dean, smacking the back of his head rest and seat.
“You’re such an idiot sometimes!” Dean hollers back. “Mom is going to kill you, if I don’t kill you first.”
I turn up the heat dial all the way, and then the fan all the way for Dean.
“Mom will never know. She won’t even wake up. She doesn’t even know I’m gone. I’m totally sober now.” I peek at her through the breaks in the headrest. Sierra sinks back into the seat, hugging her backpack, shivering. Her dark hair is strewn allover her face and I see the sparkles of some eyeshadow, even in the dark.
“Yes, she will. Because I’m going to wake her up and tell her as soon as we get there.” Dean revs the car engine and puts the car back into drive. “You’re not sober.”
“Please, don’t. Cause shewillkill me,” Sierra relents and pleads. “Sitting outside on the curb in this weather was punishment enough. I think I have frostbite.”
“You don’t have frostbite,” Dean remarks.
“How do you know that? I think I do!” Sierra laughs bitterly, clearly annoyed with her older brother, even though she called him for rescue.
“It’s 40 degrees here. You don’t have frostbite,” Dean merges back onto the highway.
“She could have hypothermia,” I suggest. “You can still get hypothermia in cool temperatures. She was out there for a while.”
“See, I could!” Sierra agrees with me. “Thanks! Who the fuck are you?” She cranes her head around the headrest.
“You—not helping.” Dean looks at me, and then turns back to look at Sierra briefly. “You—watch your language.”
“Who is your little friend?” Sierra says with a playful voice. “Is she your new girlfriend?”
“I’m Madeline,” I introduce myself, ignoring Dean’s watchful, evil eye.
“Are you his new girlfriend?” Sierra repeats, clearly fishing for information about Dean’s personal life, anything to get the conversation off of her and her obvious drunkenness.
“No,” I say at the same time as Dean says “No, none of your business,” I’m blushing, and I thank god it’s dark and neither of them can tell.
“Then why are you here?” Sierra asks, irritated with the lack of an answer.
“She’s my friend.” Dean gives her an answer.
“Does Eliza know she’s here?” Sierra pries for information.
“Yes, she does, actually,” Dean barks out a laugh. “Eliza and I aren’t dating anymore, anyway.”
“I even met Eliza,” I say, pouring gasoline into the fire.
“Wait, so, you guys broke up for real?” Sierra gasps excitedly. “Mom isn’t gonna be happy about that.”
“We were never—we weren’treallydating, Ro….” Dean tries to clarify.
“Tell Eliza that,” Sierra opens up her phone. “She’s been posting super depressing IG stories all week since you didn’t show up for dinner.” She shows me a photo with Taylor Swift lyrics as the caption.
I can’t help but giggle. “What a heartbreaker you are, Dean,”
“I know, right?” Sierra laughs.
