What I Meant to Say

Pressing my head against the cool glass window, I watch the lines of evergreen trees zip by as the branches shift in the evening breeze. There are a couple people dotting the sidewalk, and I try to guess what each of them is thinking. I can feel Dad glancing at me anxiously every once in a while even though he should be looking at the road. I don't say anything though, because if we get in a car wreck, it will be all his fault. The sky is red, just like the colour of Diane's hatchback. Out of the corner of my eye, Mom's lipstick slides around on the dashboard with the movements of the car.