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what
should have been a restful night, but these dreams had been
different.
    I'd played out nearly every possible
combination of events since the accident. Dreams where I was the
one driving instead of Cindi. Dreams where I got a ride home with
someone so dad and Cindi didn't have any reason to be on the road.
Dreams where I was in the truck that killed them, even dreams where
I was in the back seat as a passenger at the moment of impact.
    I was used to awaking shaking and scared
countless times during the course of a night, but I'd never felt
that level of pure, bestial fear.
    I stumbled into the bathroom and flipped on
the light, only to groan at how ghastly I looked. I was even paler
than normal, with dark circles under my eyes that only a crack
addict could possibly find attractive.
    A hot shower did a little to make me more
presentable, I tried to hide the shadows with some makeup, and then
finally gave up after botching the second application, and just put
on some mascara and eyeliner. The mundane process of getting ready
for the day somehow wore away some of the edge to my nightmare. It
was already starting to seem more like a normal, safe dream.
    I put on jeans and a button-up shirt, and
then all but stumbled downstairs with my backpack in hand. Sometime
during the night mom had put our message board up on the
fridge.
    Went shopping, food in the fridge, don't
forget breakfast and lunch. See you tonight after school. Love you.
--Mom
    I shook my head resignedly; you'd think the
message would have changed at least a little over the last few
weeks, but it was still pretty much the same. 'Don't forget to eat,
I'll be back later, but it might be a couple of days.'
    I was tempted to just ignore the message, but
that'd just make her testy at some point. It made her feel like a
poor mom if we went too long without some kind of
communication.
    Have to stay late for math tutoring. A
friend will bring me home. --A.
    Signing my notes with an initial still felt a
little like a stroke of brilliance. Writing out Adriana was a pain,
but for obvious reasons I couldn't use the shortened version of my
name.
    I glanced down at my watch and saw it was
nearly time for Britney to show up. With a sigh I opened up the
fridge and pulled out one of the trendy, meal-in-a-bottle drinks
mom had started getting lately. I didn't particularly like them,
but it would keep until I was actually hungry, and mom would count
the bottles as a way of determining how many meals I was
missing.
    I thought about taking a second bottle, but
they were too expensive to pour down a sink, and I knew I wouldn't
be hungry enough to finish up the first, let alone a second
meal.
    The tinny blare of a car horn pulled me out
the front door. Britney was waiting outside with her heater going
full blast. I was surprised at how cold it was with the sun still
struggling to get above the mountains. Of course it wasn't cold
enough for me to need a heater, but I also wasn't wearing Britney's
shorts, which looked like they were even shorter than the ones
she'd worn the day before.
    It was amazing what the administration was
letting everyone get away with. Of course, if I had legs like some
of these girls, I'd probably be joining in.
    Britney turned down her rap music just long
enough to say "Hi", and then we were off to school. The music was
fairly hideous, but it did spare me having to try and be friendly
before I was fully awake. Of course it also stopped me from digging
further into the mystery of why it was so dangerous to hike. That
particular question would probably have to wait at least until
lunch.
    Mrs. Sorenson looked up as I walked into a
nearly empty class, but I was on time, even if only barely. I'd
heard of teachers taking an instant dislike to one of their
students, but I'd never experienced it first hand until now.
    I fielded two questions on the role of
phosphorus in photosynthesis before being hit with a third one I
couldn't answer. I felt my ears go hot as the