Till Forever is Ours

11.

IT WAS DARK IN THE CAR, NO LIGHT HAD COME ON with the opening of the door, and I could barely see her face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as she spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.

"Put on your seatbelt," she commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both hands.

I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. She took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause. But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied her flawless features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that her expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No," she said curtly, and her tone was livid.

I sat in silence, watching her face while her blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Kate?" she asked, her voice light, controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" She still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on her face.

"Yes," I croaked softly.

"Distract me, please." she ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," she clarified, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Michelle Watson tomorrow before school?"

She was still squeezing her eyes closed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"She's telling everyone that she's taking me to prom— either she's insane or she's trying to make up for almost killing me last... well, you remember it, and she thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I engage in her life, then we're even, and she can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Peter would uh... get her off my case if he's interested... I'm not even sure anymore." I babbled on.

"I heard about that." She sounded at bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "Maybe I need to force them together so that Michelle will leave me alone."

Yelena sighed, and finally opened her eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but she didn't speak again. She leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. Her face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Kate." She whispered, too, and as she stared out the widow, her eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt those..." she didn't finish her sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control her anger again. "At least," she continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."