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Your favorite daughter, cream cheese enthusiast, and potential one-day romance author
Attachment: chapters 1–3 for mom and dad.docx
2:04 a.m.
I DIDN’T THINK Howl would end with a car chase, but I’ve been wrong about a lot of things today. To be fair, it’s a chase between two used ca
rs with decent fuel economies and five-star safety ratings. The Fast and the Furious: Sensible Sedans.
The streets are deserted, nighttime lights smudging the skyline with gold, and my heart bangs against the seat belt as we trail Brady to the freeway.
“I didn’t realize he was so close to us,” I say, changing lanes and hitting the gas. We remain parallel with the Toyota, even as I accelerate up to 70 mph.
Neil stares down at his phone. “D. B. Cooper must have been his last one too. I guess we were… distracted.”
“Right,” I say, my stomach dropping. If he regrets what happened at the museum…
“Even if he wins,” he says, as though he can detect the insecurity in my voice, “I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I want you to know that.” He sounds more solid than he has all night, and it fills me with a fierce determination.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to let him.”
We’re neck and neck until we approach the exit, where I have to switch back into his lane. Behind him.
“A for effort!” Brady yells out his window as he sneaks through a yellow light the moment before it turns red.
I hit the brakes. “Shit. What now?”
“Turn right,” Neil says. “He’s probably taking Forty-Fifth all the way. If we take the backstreets, we won’t hit any more lights.”
“You sure?”
“No,” he admits. “But it’s our only chance.”
I flip on my blinker and swerve right, taking us into a residential neighborhood. I circle a few roundabouts, white-knuckling the steering wheel the whole time.
The school parking lot is just up ahead, and Brady’s white Toyota is approaching it from the other side of the street. There’s Logan Perez, standing at the entrance to the gym with Nisha and Olivia, holding two black-and-white checkered flags. There’s a grassy field between the parking lot and the gym. We can get close, but we’ll still have to make a run for it.
This is it.
“There’s two of us, and only one of him. You have to go for Logan,” I say. “I’ll park as close as I can and try to stop Brady. All I have to do is grab his bandanna.” A laugh tumbles out. “It sounds easy when I say it like that.”
He reaches over to brush my wrist with a few fingertips. Even his lightest touches feel impossibly intense. “Okay. We’ve got this. Then—then we’ll figure everything out later?”
Our bet. Splitting the prize.
I’ve already conquered more tonight than I ever thought I would. Second place has never sounded so great.
“Yes,” I say, following Brady to a parking spot at the edge of the lot and throwing the car into park. “Go!”
Summoning any latent athletic ability I left on that soccer field in middle school and any strength gained from carrying a massive backpack for the past four years, I throw open the door, launching myself at Brady. On the other side of the car, Neil leaps onto the grassy field and heads for Logan.
“Rowan—what the—” Brady asks, but I’m clawing my way toward his bandanna, capturing it in my fist, ripping it off. “Oh, shit.”
We tumble to the pavement, legs tangling. Brady cushions me to some degree, no doubt experienced when it comes to tackles, but I still manage to smack my knee on the way down. I’m too amped on adrenaline to care, especially not when I hear the whoops and cheers from a few yards away. The blow of a whistle. Neil’s stunned laughter.
Breathing hard, I thrust Brady’s bandanna into the air like a victory flag.
We did it.
