Page 86 of One Big Little Secret

The car clips our side mirror clean off, sending us spinning onto the sidewalk. I open my eyes in time to see a snow-plastered stop sign turn red again as we ram into it.

The hood crumples. The seat belt cuts my chest.

Something rips at my neck like rope burn.

Then silence.

For two painful seconds, I regain my bearings, remembering how to breathe.

The thick snow falling over everything dampens any sound but my own breathing.

“Arlo!” I scream his name so fast my voice rips. I fumble with the belt, unclasping it so I can turn around. “Arlo, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He’s sitting exactly where I left him, his face unnaturally pale, his eyes wide.

He’s in one piece, I’m sure, but shocked out of his little skin.

“M-m-mommy?” he whimpers.

“Oh, honey. Sweetheart.” I’m breathing like mad but I don’t know how to stop. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”

He shakes his head slowly. “N-no. Dunno.”

God, I should get him to a hospital anyway. But with this accident, we’re not moving, and an ambulance—I can’t afford an ambulance, can I? Not unless the kid’s missing an arm.

I have no idea how the Higher Ends insurance plan even works; I haven’t had time to look. And the car’s definitely out of commission. Something hisses miserably under the hood.

“Can you move your hands?” I ask gently. “Your head? Be careful.”

He holds his hands out and looks at them before he rotates his wrists. Then he moves his head from side to side.

“I’m okay.” He looks out of the window. “The car hit us.”

“Yes. Yes, it did.” We could havediedif we were going just a little faster.“Stay where you are, big guy. I’m just going to check to see if our car’s hurt.”

Though if that grating, steady noise is anything to go by, it doesn’t sound healthy.

Outside, it’s as cold as I thought and the damage looks worse.

The stop sign is bent, and the front of the car looks buckled like crumpled paper. Black liquid drips against the greyish snow slurry under my car.

I’m at a loss for words or what to do.

I definitely regret canceling my roadside assistance last year to save a few bucks.

Snow lands on my neck and melts, mingling with sweat, cold and unsettling.

Adrenaline vibrates in my fingers, insistent and screaming.

Do something. Move.

Oh, I know what I’d like to do.

I want to scream and cry and sleep. The seat belt burn on my neck stings.

I have crappy car insurance, of course, but I do have it. I just don’t think it’ll save me from disaster.

If the car isn’t totaled, it’s going to cost a fortune to fix. Buying another used car, that’s more expensive.

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