THE WILD SEASON

Chapter 9

I stumble between vehicles in the parking lot. When I reach my Mustang, I press my hands against the black paint and just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I start to get in the car, but where will I go? I can't go home. I can't face my dad when he gets there and asks, with that desperately hopeful smile on his face, how it went.

Slowly, my eyes slide to my trunk, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm moving toward the back end of my car. Popping open the trunk. Cataloging the things I packed:

Clothing

Water bottles

Canned tuna

How many cans of tuna, Molly? Three. No, there's another. Four cans. Good.

Granola bars

A pot

Matches

Is the matchbox full? Yes, it's full.

The counting. The checking. It slows the rapid fire of my heart. Distracts my turbulent mind. But at some point, I'll have to stop and...

Fishing wire

Lighter fluid

A knife

A knife

A knife

"Oh my God," a male voice says. "You're really gonna do it."

I spin around to find the last person on earth I want to see. Colt Henry stands before me, silent judgment dripping from his face. Then, suddenly, his features soften.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demands, no doubt seeing the redness around my eyes. "Lost one of your diamond earrings?"

"Get away from me," I snarl, but I can barely get the words out, because I was almost breathing normally again. But he reminds me of...everything. Of my mother being gone. Of my father's fall into oblivion. Of the brittle happiness I just shattered.

"Spit it out," he says, with half his usual bite force. "Are you running away?"

I look around for someone to save me. For someone to give me an oxygen mask, or maybe a helicopter I could fly into the burning sun. My eyes fall on something in his hand, and for the first time I notice the twisted, anguished look on his own face. "What is that?" I ask.

He crumples the paper into his fist and stuffs it into his pocket. "Mind your own business."

Like the snap of fingers, my panic turns to anger. "Get away from me, dude. What are you even doing up here? Dealing crack?"

"What are you doing up here?" he retorts. "Making sure school's really out for summer? Bet you miss that shit already."

I open my mouth to reply, but what comes out instead is a sob. I drop my chin to my chest, and try to fight the reaction. Try, but fail. I cry silently, hating Colt for seeing me this way. Hating him for existing.

"What does it matter?" I say, finally. "My life is over." I raise my head and look him square in the eyes, shrug as tears slip down my cheeks. "My life is over."

"What the hell does that mean?" he asks, but I've already turned away from him. Am already unlocking my car door, knowing I have to get as far away from here as possible. "God, why don't you be a little more melodramatic," he adds. In the corner of my eye, I catch him glancing toward my trunk. "What does that mean? My life is over. Why are you going to Allegheny?" He grabs my car door and holds it open when I try to close it. His voice grows deadly serious. "What exactly are you going to do out there?"

"Just go away." I raise my eyes, and though I hate the pleading tone of my words, I say with as much depth as I can muster, "Please, just let me go."

His brows knit together, and he backs up. I slam the car door and look up to see him running a hand through his hair. His head falls back and he growls, but I could care less what he's upset about. Then, as I'm about to put the car in reverse, he marches around the back of my vehicle toward the passenger seat.

"Damn it!" he barks loud enough for me to hear. "Like I ain't got a hundred better things to worry about. Fuck."

My eyes enlarge when I realize what he's about to do. I reach for the lock button a second too late, and then Colt is swinging open my car door and dropping his rear into the passenger seat.

"All right then," he announces, rolling his eyes. "Let's do this then. You may think I'm an asshole, but I'm not a monster."

"Get out of my car!" I yell.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

"You will get out of my car or I will call the cops!" I shove his beefy arm, but he doesn't move an inch.

"Go head. I'll tell them and your dad that you, a minor, are running away like a complete moron."

I open my mouth to respond, and then shut it.

"So your dad doesn't know you're leaving," Colt reasons. "I knew it. God, you're such a—" He stops himself. "Look, let's just do this, alright? I've got..." That pained expression again. "I've got some time to kill anyway. So let's go get this hair-brained idea out of your system, and then we'll come back. Give me a ride to my house."

I start to get out of my car, but Colt grabs my arm and pulls me back into my seat.

"Don't touch me," I snap.

"I mean it, Molly. If you tell, I'll tell too. But go ahead, that'd be a hell of a lot easier for me." He waves his hand. "Please. Be someone else's problem."

I grit my teeth and try to think past him being so...close. His entire presence makes me want to climb out of my skin. "What do you need from your house?" I ask, pretending for one second that I won't dump him there the second he gets out.

"Just a bag." He buckles his seat belt. "And cash. I've got a ton of cash hidden around my house."

"Fine," I manage to get out.

He looks at me. "That was a joke. For Christ's sake."

"If you say one thing to me on the way there, I will find someone to drag you out of my car. And I'll have my own story to tell on how you got there." I give him a pointed look, and he seems to consider this.

"How am I supposed to give you directions?" he asks.

I point to the nav system, and he shakes his head. "Course. How could I be so stupid?" 

And then—because anything is better than not being able to draw a breath, and because I absolutely, positively cannot face my dad right now, and because, okay, I'm a little curious as to where Colt lives—I take my foot off the brake and slowly back up.

As I pull onto the access road from school, I think I see Anna waving at me from the parking lot. But then Colt starts typing in his address, and my attention returns to the jerk riding shotgun in my car.