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it behind him. Just like that, he’s gone and I’m by myself. I go back to my bedroom, collapse onto my snowy-white comforter, and fall asleep.
    When I wake up, I know I’ve got to get the hell out of Dodge.

C HAPTER 4
    Traffic has been oozing like drain sludge since Greenwich, but still it’s too fast for me. I’ve been almost at Norwalk for forty-five minutes, and every second has been as precious as that last cigarette before they jerk the black hood over your head and take you out back to shoot you. Exit 16 off the I-95 looms ahead of me like the Black Gates of Mordor. It’s still at least ten minutes away, but I can feel its dark pull. Why couldn’t getting through Stamford have taken longer? Is an hour or two in Friday morning Connecticut traffic too much to ask?
    Ten million dollars.
    My stomach seizes up. Again. Jack said Burger Barn settled ten million dollars on me. I did some research on the net, and sure enough, ten million is the figure everyone reports. Why had I been so determined NEVER to look up anything about my story once I woke up? Okay, the initial tabloid exposé was so embarrassing it almost put me back into another coma. But I should have been strong enough to get over it. So they called me a cow. And seriously, who cares that my mom told the world that I wet the bed after seeing C.H.U.D. ?
    When I was 11.
    Had she done it on purpose? Embarrassed me so much that I would hide away and never realize that Burger Barn gave me ten million dollars, as opposed to the six million I actually got?
    Ten million.
    Who am I kidding? Who? Didn’t I know, all the damn time, that something was wrong? But I was too spineless to do anything about it. To even say anything about it.
    I’d been so mad the day I found out about the money. Mad because Keith still hadn’t been to see me since I’d woken up, mad about that stupid magazine with the horrible picture of me on the cover. Mad, mad, mad!
     
    * * * * *
    “I don’t think you look like a smock.” That was Mom’s best defense when I glared at her across my hospital bed, pointing at the cover of People . A picture of comatose me—greasy hair, double chin, drool. “You don’t look that messy,” she insisted.
    “Not a smock, Mom. SHHHH-muck. I look like a schmuck!”
    “Lisa.” Dad was looking down his nose at me, getting ready to Tell Me How It Is. “People will forget about this. Soon, some crazy lady will murder her family and put them in the mulcher.” He slid a glance toward my mother, an avid gardener. “Your story will be history. But you get keep the six million dollars. Just remember that.”
    “Six million dollars?” It was the first I’d heard of it. “What? Like the Bionic Man?”
    Even then, I knew it wasn’t right. Steve Austin got hurt in the 1970’s, so that figure of six million needed some serious inflation. I began to splutter, making my pulse jump and machines beep. “You mean it’s all settled? What about me? Don’t I get a say? I’m thirty-four years old. I should have a say. They really messed up. Big time. I could have been killed!”
    Dad clearly Didn’t Want to Hear It. “You signed the papers. Six million dollars, plus all your medical bills taken care of, plus free health insurance from Burger Barn for life.” He said it in his End of Discussion voice.
    “What?!” My fury detonated across the room. “This isn’t fair! This—hey!”
    Mom came to my bedside and actually pressed her hands into my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. Dad covered me with more blankets and tucked them around me so tightly that I couldn’t move my legs. A nurse who looked an awful lot like Frau Blücher came in and threatened to give me a shot. Ever-present Rick shook his head dolefully at me as he stood at attention by the door. I felt like the hysterical passenger on Airplane! , about to be socked by anyone who wanted a go.
    “I could have been killed,” I repeated mutinously once the nurse was out of the room.
    “That