Sudden silence. Then she heard the engine ticking, glass falling, horns honking.
She couldn’t speak. She could scarcely breathe. Her heart pounded painfully. Shards of safety glass clung to her lap, stuck in her hair. The steering wheel was jammed against her legs.
Sydney. Cody.
“Kids,” she said faintly.
It was on purpose. That truck hit her on purpose! Were they coming back?
“Kids!” Now she heard herself, though her ears were ringing. “Sydney! Cody!”
“Mommy?” Cody said.
Thank God. “Cody, baby, are you okay?”
“What happened?”
Sydney started crying.
“Syd, honey? Are you hurt?”
Sydney was talking and crying at the same time and Laura didn’t understand what she was saying.
A knock on her roof made Laura scream.
“Ma’am? I called the police. I saw that truck hit you.”
An older man in his sixties stood there.
“Police,” Laura said. She tried to clear her head. “Thank you. My kids.”
“Don’t move yet. You’re bleeding.”
She hadn’t noticed, but when he said it she reached for her head and came away with blood on her fingers.
“Sydney. Sydney,” Laura repeated as her daughter’s cries became more hysterical. “I’m okay. Are you hurt? Sydney,are you hurt?”
“They hit us!” she wailed. “On purpose! Mom!”
“Is anything broken?”
“N-n-no.”
They would all be sore tomorrow, Laura thought.
“Cody?” She tried to turn to see her son in the back, but it hurt to move her neck. “Cody? Are you okay?”
“I want to get out, Mom. Can I get out? There’s glass all over.”
Laura said to Sydney, “If you can get out, you stay with your brother, okay?”
“What about you? Ohmigod Mom! You’re hurt!”
“No,” she assured her daughter. It wasn’t the complete truth—but it wasn’t serious. She hoped. “The steering wheel is wedged on my legs, but I’m okay, I promise.”
She could feel her feet and toes; she didn’t feel any sharp pain in her legs. She suspected a mild concussion, whiplash, some cuts on her face and hands.
But her babies were okay. That was all she cared about.