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The silent threat was enough to spook my mom into panicked hysteria, so just like in the movies, this is the part where we cut to the chase scene. Mom has been driving like a crazy person for the past half hour, trying to lose his tail. I don’t even think she knows where she’s at. She’s just taking the first roads she finds in an attempt to escape the man she said she loved so much.
“Layla,” Zoey mumbles in the backseat, drawing my gaze to her and away from the road.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she whimpers, her big green eyes filled with unshed tears.
“That’s totally okay, baby girl. Gage, give Zoey the bag,” I implore, glancing out the back window to check the road.
“No,” he says, holding the stupid thing close to his chest.
I want to yell, but instead I take a deep breath to calm my temper. He’s just a kid, after all, and he doesn’t know any better.
“Yes, Gage. Give it,” I order sternly.
“I said no. It’s mine!” he yells.
“Will you three quit your yapping? I’m trying to concentrate here!” Mom screams.
Gage gnaws on his lower lip, like he’s about to cry, before he reluctantly hands the plastic bag to our sister.
“Gage, honey, I promise that when we get to where we’re going, I’ll get you a new bag,” I coo, trying to stop his tears from falling.
He’s suffered enough in his young life, so if all he wants is a plastic bag, I’ll get it for him.
“You promise?” he whispers, sniffling. He wipes the snot coming out of his nose on his forearm, his expression so sad it hurts me inside..
I hand him the package of tissues I always carry on me, wearing the most comforting smile I can muster considering the predicament we are in. Neither Gage nor Zoey have any clue as to what’s going on, and I’d rather keep it that way. I don’t want to scare them if I don’t have to.
“I promise, sweet boy.”
He sniffles into the tissue then casts me a soft smile, but it quickly disappears when Zoey starts retching into the plastic bag.
“Ew, gross, Zoey.” He gags.
“I can’t help it,” she snaps, her own tears streaking down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Gage was just teasing. Weren’t you, buddy?” I cut him a look, trying to urge him to help.
“But it stinks,” he complains.
“Gage,” I say slowly, “tell Zoey you didn’t mean to make her feel bad because of something that’s out of her control. It’s not her fault she’s sick.”
“No, it’s Momma’s,” Gage interjects, throwing a dark glare at the woman driving.
Although I try not to think about it, Gage has a lot of Roy in him. Sometimes when Mom gives him treats or does something nice for him, he acts like she just hung the moon only for him. Other times, like right now, I swear his stare alone would kill her on the spot. Zoey is more docile, and when I say docile, I mean she does everything in her power to be invisible in our home. If no one sees you, then you can’t get beat on. She already has that mentality of an adult even though she’s only seven and still just a child, and it hurts my heart that my baby sister has learned such a cruel lesson so early in her tender life.
“Layla! Do you see him? Do you see the truck?” Mom calls out, bringing my attention to her.
I squint. I think I can see a little spot of blue in the distance.
“I think he’s maybe a mile or two behind us.”
“You think or you know?”
“I think. How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I have binoculars. I see someone on the same road behind us, but the car is just too far away to see if it’s Roy’s or not.”
At the mention of his father, Gage perks up.
