Quietly, she spoke. “Come with me.”
She removed the key and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. She opened the door and started walking along the highway toward the hill. I unbuckled my seat belt and hurried after her. She was silent as she trudged through the knee-high grass. I followed behind her and realized there was a small trail worn into the earth. The grass and weeds bent backward out of our way, and I had a feeling that this path was of Max’s making.
Her breath came heavier as the hill inclined, but she didn’t slow or waver. She also didn’t speak. When we reached the top, my shirt was stuck to my back with sweat, and I’d removed my coat despite the cold. Max had left hers at the house, but she didn’t even answer when I offered mine.
The path veered off its straight line toward a rocky outcrop at the top of the hill. Max followed and climbed with practiced ease to the top of the largest rock. I followed, trying to step in the same places that she had. I sat beside her, and our feet dangled off the edge of the rock. We were underneath the cover of the trees, and we could see down both sides of the hill where the highway stretched into the distance.
It was peaceful up here. You couldn’t see any glimpse of the city, nor was there a car or house in sight. I could understand why she would come here. This far away from life, in the middle of nowhere, your soul felt bigger somehow.
She took a shaky breath, pointed to the road, and said, “My sister died right there, while I watched.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs, and my soul, which had felt clear and infinite moments ago, was mangled. She’d said it quietly and calmly with no hesitation, but I could see the toll the words took on her. Her hands were knotted tightly in her lap. She was still and stiff except for the swallowing motion of her throat that repeated every few seconds.
“I was thirteen and at some ridiculous sleepover out in the boondocks that I hadn’t wanted to go to, but Mom had made me. So . . . as I so often do, I acted like a bitch and pissed off the girl throwing the party. Mom sent Alex to come get me.”
She looked up at the purple and pink morning sky and pressed her lips together. “Alex was good about stuff like that. Most teenagers would have pitched a fit over having to come get their little sister on a Saturday night, but not Alex. She was upset about something, and I kept bugging her to tell me what it was. That was when I found out why she was at home on a Saturday night. Mom and Dad had found pot in her room, and she was pretty much grounded for eternity. That’s part of why my parents are so crazy conservative now.”
Max sniffed and pressed the back of her left hand to her mouth for a moment. Then she reached for the leather cuff bracelet on her wrist and removed it. On the pale skin of the inside of her wrist was a tattoo I’d never noticed before. It read 11:12. Something started to sink in my stomach, and I steeled myself for what I knew was coming next.
“It was 11:12.” Her voice broke, and tears started sliding down her face. “I know because I was messing with the radio, trying to find a decent station out here in the middle of nowhere. Alex was talking about how unreasonable Mom and Dad were. The pot was Michael’s, but she didn’t want to tell on him, so she took the heat. We were nearing the top of the hill, and neither of us was paying much attention. There was a guy coming up on the other side of the hill, and he’d fallen asleep at the wheel.”
Max started to shiver, and even though I was sure it wasn’t from the cold, I hung my coat around her shoulders. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Her eyes and lips were pressed into straight lines. Her tears reflected the sunlight, and her face looked fractured, rearranged by grief.
Her pitch was higher and her volume louder as she continued, “Alex swerved, but she wasn’t fast enough. His car clipped the side of ours at the same time that Alex slammed on the brakes. We started spinning, and then the car was in the air. I remember everything and nothing about the seconds that followed. I screamed and looked out my window at the tree we were flying toward. I looked back at Alex, and there was glass flying everywhere and a hole in the windshield. She wasn’t in her seat, but one of her shoes was stuck between the bottom of the dash and what was left of the window. I stared at that shoe for lifetimes before the top of the car slammed into the earth. It had to have been a second, maybe two, but my mind raced into the future. I thought about what I would do, what we would all do if Alex died. I pictured growing up without her, missing her on every birthday and holiday. I saw ten years into the future, and it was terrible.”