Revived

thirty-six

In the morning, anxiety slams into me. Then I think of Audrey singing to Matt and me at the breakfast table and I smile. I climb out of bed, shower, and go to find Mason before school.

Unfortunately, he and Cassie are on their way out.

“We need supplies,” he says. “We’re headed to the store. Want to come?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“I’ll let you drive,” he offers.

“Sold.”

Cassie sits in the back and I buckle into the driver’s seat. I’ve only had two lessons, but I have my learner’s permit now, so I sort of know what I’m doing. Even so, easing the tank out of the driveway is no easy task: I run over a patch of yard in the process.

I do better on the main roads, and somehow I manage to get us to the supermarket in one piece. Mason and Cassie put on parent faces as we walk inside, and I bounce along after them, giddy from driving.

The store is unusually busy and the lines are so long that I start to worry that I’ll be late for school. We split up to shop and manage to do it pretty quickly. Then, even though we’re pressed for time and it would be faster if Mason drove back to the house, I don’t pass up the opportunity to pilot the return trip, too.

More confident this time, I have no trouble at all, not even with the sharp turn onto our street. But just when I blinker to pull into the driveway, Mason’s hand flies to my knee.

“Stop,” he commands.

“What?” I say, slamming on the brakes. I look at the street in front of me and behind. I’m afraid I’ve run over something or someone.

“Shh,” he hisses.

Confused, I look at Mason’s face. And that’s when I want to scream.

Mason is a different person, one I’ve never seen before. Every muscle in his body is tense. His eyes are narrow, piercing. His jaw is clenched. And even though I didn’t see him grab it—didn’t know he had it on him—he’s holding his gun.

“Back down the street,” Mason says. Suddenly, I can’t remember how to put the car in reverse. I fumble with a few things before Cassie pops up from the backseat and pulls the gearshift down to R. Slowly, I manage to creep backward a few dozen feet away from the house.

“I’ll go,” Cassie says to Mason. “You stay with her.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Mason says. “Drive away. Check in ten.”

Cassie nods once.

In seconds, Mason is inside the house, I’m ducked down in the back, and Cassie is driving a little too fast for residential streets. Only when I peek out the window at the house as we’re speeding away do I realize what freaked Mason out in the first place.

The front door is wide open.