Page 61 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

“Shit!” She cried out in shock as the truck hit something in the road. A rock? A tree limb? She couldn’t tell. One second, she was driving straight and the next she was careening off the road. She screamed and jerked the wheel, pumping and stomping the brakes to try to regain control. “No! No! No! No!”

Her stomach swooped like she was on a roller coaster. The truck slid down a steep gully. She gripped the wheel as she came up off the seat. The belt barely held her in place, and she screamed even louder, terrified as the truck began to tip and then tumble.

Metal creaked. The engine surged as her foot pressed the wrong pedal. Glass crunched. Her stomach rolled as she flipped end over end. With a crunch, the truck landed on its roof. It wobbled back and forth like a demented seesaw until finally it stopped.

Panting and shaking, Camila reached for the seatbelt latch. She braced herself for the painful fall and fought with the stuck button until it released. She slumped down onto the roof, banging her head and smacking her knee on the steering wheel.

She hissed in pain and rubbed her aching knee. She felt something wet and realized she was bleeding. Glancing down, she saw that both knees were scraped badly. Her head throbbed, and she reached up to touch a tender spot on the back of her head. Again, her fingers came away bloody.

Okay. Not great.

Really not good.

But I'm still alive so....

Grunting in discomfort, she maneuvered her way through the crunched-up truck cab to the passenger side door. It was the least messed up, and she hoped it would still open. It took more pressure than she had expected, but she managed it.

Not looking forward to the deluge of rain that awaited her, Camila searched the floorboards and dash for the phone she had stolen from landscaper’s shed. Miraculously, it had survived without even a scratch.

But she couldn’t find the gun.

It didn’t vanish.

It has to be here somewhere.

But where?

She reached under the driver’s seat, straining as she slapped around for it. When she didn’t find it there, she moved along to the passenger seat. She felt as far back as she could, banging her fingers on metal supports and tangling them in wires. No matter what she did, she couldn’t find the gun.

She grabbed her Peter Pan Loungefly bag and checked that all the money was still in there. She unzipped the clock face pocket and poked at the AirTag she’d slipped in there. Would her dad know what it was? Or how to find out if one was being used around him? She hoped he was behind on technology after spending so many years behind bars. Otherwise...

I don’t have to do this.

Maybe this is a sign.

Call Ama and ask her to come get me.

She’ll be so mad, but she’ll forgive me.

After she yells. A lot.

Camila stared at the phone for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Eventually, she worked up the courage to call her mother. She needed help. She’d made a big, stupid mistake, but her mother would come and save her.

Like she always does.

But when Camila tried to use the phone, she had no service. Not even a single bar.

Great. Just great.

Fantastic.

Maybe if I go up the road I’ll find service?

After waiting a few minutes to see if the rain would let up, she decided it was now or never. Cautiously, she crawled out of the wreckage. The gully was full of water and mud so soft her sneakers sank.

With water pooling around her ankles, she sloshed through it toward the embankment. Her first few tries to escape the washed-out ditch failed. It wasn’t until she grabbed hold of tree roots that she managed to haul herself up out of the filthy water. She slid down a few inches each time she tried to climb higher. Finally, she found a strong enough piece of broken tree to brace her left foot.

Growling with effort, she hefted herself out of the gully and onto the road. She splashed dirty water in her face and into her mouth as she crawled to safety. She sputtered and spit, terrified she’d just swallowed some disgusting bacteria that would kill her.

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