The three of them were stoned and bored in Michelle’s dorm room when they decided to drive the two hours north to camp, even though it was late January and their phones’ forecast threatened snow. At first it had been a joke, an idle comment while talking of summers past, hassling Michelle for not signing her staff contract yet, wondering what camp would look like right now, but it quickly took on the shape and weight of an idea, a plan, a goal.
They got busy getting ready. Tiferet called her mom to tell her she was going to sleep at Michelle’s after all, yes Ima she will find a place to park the car overnight, yes Ima she will be able to get it out in the morning, the snow’s not supposed to be so bad, yes, I love you too Ima. Michelle called Tova to make sure she had the directions right. “Ask her to come!” Sue said, Tiferet shushing her. “As long as you make the left at the pub, you’ll get there,” Tova said. “Have fun, girls. Be safe.” They stuffed Michelle’s laundry bag with sweaters and blankets, Sue ran to her room to grab her sleeping bag and some granola bars, asked again if they should invite Jason, who lived in the dorms at College and Spadina, to which the other two emphatically responded no, laced up their boots, donned their toques, and slid the icy sidewalks to Tiferet’s car, parked at a metre on Hoskin. Boys were playing football on the back campus, grunting and steaming under the golden lights. Sue watched them, let out an exaggerated sigh before getting into the car. It was eight in the evening.
Slushing and angling their way out of the smeared city, Regina Spektor cranked loud, Michelle sat in the backseat beside the laundry bag, beside herself with road trip excitement. Though she had spent ten years of her life there, the last two as staff, she had never been to camp outside of the summer. In the front passenger seat, Sue lit her tiny clay pipe, passed it back to Michelle. Michelle took a massive hit, tapped Tiferet on the shoulder, billowed smoke into Tiferet’s open mouth. Michelle sat back, the pipe and lighter clutched hot in her hand. She was more than just weekday stoned now; she was baked enough to feel the bodily divide of her two selves: the inside Michelle, unsettled, ill-at-ease, racing on five different tracks, and the outside Michelle, quiet, cool, ironic. Tiferet and Sue scream-sang about finding human teeth on Delancey.
They were on the highway now, a paved page scrolling into the north. The warm car was full of smoke, movement, music, laughter. Outside the car there was nothing but black, cold, the small, meagre suns of the streetlights. Sue found Tiferet’s earth sciences textbook in Tiferet’s canvas tote, made fun of her for thinking there’d be time to study. Michelle watched the fields, the trees, the dwindling patches of suburban development. Winter was a different subgenre up here, the snow cleaner, whiter, a one-inch margin on the text of the world. After two hours of driving and singing, they turned off the highway. The car’s brights on, they picked their way down roads that were familiar yet alien, discussing quietly, pointing out frozen landmarks: the Kissing Oak Tree in town, the pub, the entrance to the Black Spruce reserve. Michelle’s heart beat unreasonably. Finally, Tiferet pulled up parallel to a towering snowbank. She parked the car. They were there.
“What now?”
“Let’s get out!”
They piled out, stretched, shivered, zipped up. Though the road was decently plowed and sanded, it was narrow enough that Tiferet had to edge the car as close to the snowbank as possible. Michelle watched as Sue scampered out of the driver’s side door.
They stared at the entrance to camp. The Camp Burntshore sign was half buried in snow; the gate was gone, presumably packed away for winter. A cold, piney wind blew. Michelle turned her phone’s flashlight on, shone it into the swallowing darkness. The snow was silver, undulating, unperturbed except for the brown trunks of the trees. “How are we supposed to walk through that?” Sue asked, uneasy.
“Can’t go around it, can’t go over it, gotta go through it!” Michelle exclaimed, her high combusting into adrenaline. She stepped into the snow.
They pushed down the camp’s main road, past the tennis and basketball courts, the snow up to their knees. Everything was still, at rest, white. The cold was sharp, the pines were tall, each step was a workout. Their eyes started to adjust, aided by a lowering half moon. “This is, like, totally surreal.” At the doctor’s office they discovered a trail in the snow. Michelle jumped onto it, brushed off her legs. Their movement no longer impeded, they romped all over the camp, their phones’ lights skittering across the snow and buildings, Sue keeping up a steady stream of chatter. The camp was a ruin, a frozen relic. The showers, the rec hall, the trip shed, all inert imitations of their summer selves. A and C was loaded with motorboats, canoes, kayaks, strange carcasses glimpsed through the phone-lit windows. Tiferet fell on a patch of ice, landed on her wrist, squealed in pain, yet swore she was okay. They left the branching trails to climb up to their old cabin.
“What if, there’s like, a bear hibernating in there?” Sue asked before Tiferet forced open the door. They stood in the hollow, Upside-Down cold of the cabin, Tiferet carefully packing a bowl with gloved fingers. Michelle watched the pipe make its rounds: Tiferet’s blue hair peeking out the edges of her red toque; Sue’s bright cheeks puckered as she drew on the pipe. The cabin, void of beds, running water, tucked-in sheets, cubbies overflowing with clothes, laughter, electricity, belonging.
“Do you guys feel like we’re trespassing?” Sue asked, nearly whispering.
“Trespassing in a graveyard,” Michelle responded.
“Stop it Michelle, you’re scaring me!”
“I’m freezing, I gotta move,” Tiferet said, hopping from foot to foot on the creaking wooden floor.
After scrambling down the hill from the cabins, Michelle led them across centre field to the dining hall. They climbed the stairs to the back porch, where they could just make out the frozen lake. Tiferet told them how twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall, all freshwater lakes flip over, to reoxygenate the deeper water. An owl hooted. They went down to the lakeshore. The docks disassembled, stacked up like giant pieces of Shreddies, smothered in thick snow. Prints and trails of unknown animals criss-crossing all around them. “I’ll race you to Big Rock Island!”
They spread out onto the lake. Though there was a solid crust, their boots broke right through it before hitting the ice underneath; they were up to their hips in heavy snow. The going was slow. They weren’t more than fifty feet out onto the lake, the trees of Big Rock Island still far in the distance, when they collapsed. Laughed. Swam snow angels down into the hard surface of the ice.
The moon was gone.
Above them, stars.
Michelle was breathing hard, hot in her snow gear. The weed, the trudging through the snow, the uncanniness of being here: now that Michelle was at rest it swirled like a whirlpool, and in the swirl, things surfaced. Her ten summers at camp, unmoored from where they lay anchored in her brain. The sun, the secrets, the love, the homesickness, the movies watched on rainy days, the joyful cacophony in the dining hall, the afternoon heat and the morning chill, the horniness, the bugs, the friendships, the knowledge that this was the most important place in the world and that you, however briefly, were a part of it, all unavoidably, tragically, absent. In its place, the snow, holding the shape of things for those yet to come. She imagined deer frolicking on the frozen lake, a pack of wolves inching closer, choosing their target.
“Who’re you texting!” Tiferet, loud, incredulous. Michelle opened her eyes; she had nearly fallen asleep. The other two girls were sitting in the hollow they had made in the snow, Sue looking into the glow of her phone, Tiferet’s blue hair shimmering.
“Jason,” Sue said simply, pocketing the phone. Out of her other pocket, she revealed a bottle of whiskey. She took a swig, passed it to Michelle.
“Can you believe it’s ever summer here?” Tiferet asked, once again reading Michelle’s mind.
“No, I absolutely cannot.”
“Pass me that,” Tiferet said, grabbing the whiskey, “my wrist is throbbing.”
“Remember the first summer we were all in a cabin together?”
“Another life.”
“What about that summer there was twice as many boys in our unit as girls?”
“We had our pick!”
“I hated you that summer,” Sue said, taking a pull on the whiskey.
“What! Why?”
“You were the most popular, everybody adored you.” It was true, that summer was Michelle’s social zenith. But Sue was always right there with her, wasn’t she? If anything, it was Tiferet who was still an outsider that summer, still not grown into herself (though now here she was, lightyears ahead of them).
“And now?” Michelle asked, a teasing edge in her voice.
Sue jumped on her. “Now, I can’t live without you!”
“There’s no biological need for so many men,” Tiferet announced.
“What?” the other two girls said, settling back, laughing.
“It’s true. There’s no reason for parity between the sexes. We’re the only mammals that have it.”
“Text that to Jason!” Michelle said.
A squall of laughter. They fell back onto the ice. The stars were thick in the sky, though clouds were pooling in from the edges. Tiferet started talking about the incredibly hot, nearly empty space between the billions of galaxies, how there’s no more than an atom of matter per square metre out there, but it still adds up to more mass than all of the galaxies combined. “It’s called the intergalactic medium.”
“The intergalactic medium?!”
“No it’s not!”
“Tiferet!”
“It must get so lonely for that poor little atom, with nobody to talk to,” Sue said, after they calmed down. They were lying with their legs fanned out, their toqued and hooded heads touching.
“I don’t know, it must be nice, just being all alone out there,” Michelle said, “away from all this . . . stuff.”
Tiferet adjusted, grabbed Michelle and Sue’s hands.“What you’re not remembering is quantum mechanics,” she said, Michelle and Sue laughing, oh yes, of course, quantum mechanics, “that one atom constantly phasing in and out of existence, jumping from galaxy to galaxy, cluster to cluster. Nothing is ever really alone.”
“Damn, bitch, do you have to know everything?!”
The clouds had taken over the sky; the stars were gone. It started to snow, sharp dry flakes. Michelle was getting cold. Where was that whiskey bottle?
“I can’t believe you’re not coming back next summer,” Sue said.
Michelle closed her eyes. Her face was wet, her breath shallow. She could feel the infinite blackness of sleep underneath her, a lake grudgingly turning over.
“I think I’m depressed,” she said.
Sue and Tiferet didn’t say anything. They scooched to either side of her, held her in a hug.
The snow, coming faster now, with purpose, kissed their exposed faces, covered them in fine down.
Michelle woke up stiff and cold in the back seat of Tiferet’s car. She and Sue were entwined with each other under Sue’s unzipped sleeping bag. Michelle had been dreaming of bears swimming in lakes capped with ice. She surveyed the bright white world outside the window. By the time they had returned to the car last night it was snowing so hard they could barely see; now, there must be three feet of new snow out there. It was only then that Michelle noticed the car was on, Tiferet pulling the wheel, pushing on the gas, the tires spinning. “Fuck!” Tiferet yelled, hitting the steering wheel with her hand, yelping in pain.
They had to climb out of the windows to get out of the car. They stood in the sharp morning light, warming themselves. Sue had said very little since waking up. They were totally snowed in.
“What should we do?” Tiferet asked, her hand wrapped in a T-shirt.
“Wait for the snowplow, I guess.”
“What if it doesn’t come? I have study group this afternoon!”
“We can call CAA, or walk over to the reserve and ask for help.” Michelle trudged through the snow to where the gate usually stood. The camp looked entirely different than it did last night, and not just because there was a fresh blanket of snow erasing their tracks now. Everything was bright, white, present. Michelle watched a small avalanche of snow tumble off a white pine. The air was clean, wet, cold. She couldn’t see the lake, but she knew it was there. Michelle felt calm for the first time since they left Toronto. She turned around to tell the girls everything was going to be okay.
A truck had pulled up beside the car; it gave three short honks. It was Tova. She jumped out of the cab, Tim Hortons coffees in hand, wearing a black toque, red flannel jacket, unlaced work boots. Head of trip since before Michelle was a camper, co-owner since Tom retired, Tova was somebody who had managed to never leave camp. Beloved Tova.
“I thought you girls might need a hand,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “And Sue texted me at four in the morning.”
Sue squealed, jumped on her.
Along with the coffees she had brought Timbits, and, while Tova grabbed the tow line from her truck, Michelle popped three in her mouth, gulped the hot coffee. Nothing had ever tasted better. Tova went to unlock the kitchen basement, and returned with three shovels. Michelle started to dig out the front of the car, the satisfying physical labour of scooping mounds of snow warming her more than the coffee.
By the time Tova had hooked the tow line to Tiferet’s bumper, positioned the truck, and yanked the car free of the snowdrift and onto the somewhat-drivable road, it was mid morning. Tiferet’s hand was worse than she had let on, so Michelle offered to drive. After profuse thanks and tight hugs, they followed Tova out to the freshly plowed highway. Michelle accelerated hard, zipping past Tova. The entire world was generously glazed with fresh sugar, sparkling in the sun; the heat was on full blast, the radio off. “How many more winters will we have like this,” Tiferet said from the backseat, cradling her wrist.
Michelle didn’t know. And for now, she didn’t care. She pushed down on the gas. The speedometer was edging 140 kilometres. She kept accelerating. Michelle had the very clear sense that no matter how fast she went, she’d get them home in one piece. She’d get them home alive.
The three of them were stoned and bored in Michelle’s dorm room when they decided to drive the two hours north to camp, even though it was late January and their phones’ forecast threatened snow. At first it had been a joke, an idle comment while talking of summers past, hassling Michelle for not signing her staff contract yet, wondering what camp would look like right now, but it quickly took on the shape and weight of an idea, a plan, a goal.
They got busy getting ready. Tiferet called her mom to tell her she was going to sleep at Michelle’s after all, yes Ima she will find a place to park the car overnight, yes Ima she will be able to get it out in the morning, the snow’s not supposed to be so bad, yes, I love you too Ima. Michelle called Tova to make sure she had the directions right. “Ask her to come!” Sue said, Tiferet shushing her. “As long as you make the left at the pub, you’ll get there,” Tova said. “Have fun, girls. Be safe.” They stuffed Michelle’s laundry bag with sweaters and blankets, Sue ran to her room to grab her sleeping bag and some granola bars, asked again if they should invite Jason, who lived in the dorms at College and Spadina, to which the other two emphatically responded no, laced up their boots, donned their toques, and slid the icy sidewalks to Tiferet’s car, parked at a metre on Hoskin. Boys were playing football on the back campus, grunting and steaming under the golden lights. Sue watched them, let out an exaggerated sigh before getting into the car. It was eight in the evening.
Slushing and angling their way out of the smeared city, Regina Spektor cranked loud, Michelle sat in the backseat beside the laundry bag, beside herself with road trip excitement. Though she had spent ten years of her life there, the last two as staff, she had never been to camp outside of the summer. In the front passenger seat, Sue lit her tiny clay pipe, passed it back to Michelle. Michelle took a massive hit, tapped Tiferet on the shoulder, billowed smoke into Tiferet’s open mouth. Michelle sat back, the pipe and lighter clutched hot in her hand. She was more than just weekday stoned now; she was baked enough to feel the bodily divide of her two selves: the inside Michelle, unsettled, ill-at-ease, racing on five different tracks, and the outside Michelle, quiet, cool, ironic. Tiferet and Sue scream-sang about finding human teeth on Delancey.
They were on the highway now, a paved page scrolling into the north. The warm car was full of smoke, movement, music, laughter. Outside the car there was nothing but black, cold, the small, meagre suns of the streetlights. Sue found Tiferet’s earth sciences textbook in Tiferet’s canvas tote, made fun of her for thinking there’d be time to study. Michelle watched the fields, the trees, the dwindling patches of suburban development. Winter was a different subgenre up here, the snow cleaner, whiter, a one-inch margin on the text of the world. After two hours of driving and singing, they turned off the highway. The car’s brights on, they picked their way down roads that were familiar yet alien, discussing quietly, pointing out frozen landmarks: the Kissing Oak Tree in town, the pub, the entrance to the Black Spruce reserve. Michelle’s heart beat unreasonably. Finally, Tiferet pulled up parallel to a towering snowbank. She parked the car. They were there.
“What now?”
“Let’s get out!”
They piled out, stretched, shivered, zipped up. Though the road was decently plowed and sanded, it was narrow enough that Tiferet had to edge the car as close to the snowbank as possible. Michelle watched as Sue scampered out of the driver’s side door.
They stared at the entrance to camp. The Camp Burntshore sign was half buried in snow; the gate was gone, presumably packed away for winter. A cold, piney wind blew. Michelle turned her phone’s flashlight on, shone it into the swallowing darkness. The snow was silver, undulating, unperturbed except for the brown trunks of the trees. “How are we supposed to walk through that?” Sue asked, uneasy.
“Can’t go around it, can’t go over it, gotta go through it!” Michelle exclaimed, her high combusting into adrenaline. She stepped into the snow.
They pushed down the camp’s main road, past the tennis and basketball courts, the snow up to their knees. Everything was still, at rest, white. The cold was sharp, the pines were tall, each step was a workout. Their eyes started to adjust, aided by a lowering half moon. “This is, like, totally surreal.” At the doctor’s office they discovered a trail in the snow. Michelle jumped onto it, brushed off her legs. Their movement no longer impeded, they romped all over the camp, their phones’ lights skittering across the snow and buildings, Sue keeping up a steady stream of chatter. The camp was a ruin, a frozen relic. The showers, the rec hall, the trip shed, all inert imitations of their summer selves. A and C was loaded with motorboats, canoes, kayaks, strange carcasses glimpsed through the phone-lit windows. Tiferet fell on a patch of ice, landed on her wrist, squealed in pain, yet swore she was okay. They left the branching trails to climb up to their old cabin.
“What if, there’s like, a bear hibernating in there?” Sue asked before Tiferet forced open the door. They stood in the hollow, Upside-Down cold of the cabin, Tiferet carefully packing a bowl with gloved fingers. Michelle watched the pipe make its rounds: Tiferet’s blue hair peeking out the edges of her red toque; Sue’s bright cheeks puckered as she drew on the pipe. The cabin, void of beds, running water, tucked-in sheets, cubbies overflowing with clothes, laughter, electricity, belonging.
“Do you guys feel like we’re trespassing?” Sue asked, nearly whispering.
“Trespassing in a graveyard,” Michelle responded.
“Stop it Michelle, you’re scaring me!”
“I’m freezing, I gotta move,” Tiferet said, hopping from foot to foot on the creaking wooden floor.
After scrambling down the hill from the cabins, Michelle led them across centre field to the dining hall. They climbed the stairs to the back porch, where they could just make out the frozen lake. Tiferet told them how twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall, all freshwater lakes flip over, to reoxygenate the deeper water. An owl hooted. They went down to the lakeshore. The docks disassembled, stacked up like giant pieces of Shreddies, smothered in thick snow. Prints and trails of unknown animals criss-crossing all around them. “I’ll race you to Big Rock Island!”
They spread out onto the lake. Though there was a solid crust, their boots broke right through it before hitting the ice underneath; they were up to their hips in heavy snow. The going was slow. They weren’t more than fifty feet out onto the lake, the trees of Big Rock Island still far in the distance, when they collapsed. Laughed. Swam snow angels down into the hard surface of the ice.
The moon was gone.
Above them, stars.
Michelle was breathing hard, hot in her snow gear. The weed, the trudging through the snow, the uncanniness of being here: now that Michelle was at rest it swirled like a whirlpool, and in the swirl, things surfaced. Her ten summers at camp, unmoored from where they lay anchored in her brain. The sun, the secrets, the love, the homesickness, the movies watched on rainy days, the joyful cacophony in the dining hall, the afternoon heat and the morning chill, the horniness, the bugs, the friendships, the knowledge that this was the most important place in the world and that you, however briefly, were a part of it, all unavoidably, tragically, absent. In its place, the snow, holding the shape of things for those yet to come. She imagined deer frolicking on the frozen lake, a pack of wolves inching closer, choosing their target.
“Who’re you texting!” Tiferet, loud, incredulous. Michelle opened her eyes; she had nearly fallen asleep. The other two girls were sitting in the hollow they had made in the snow, Sue looking into the glow of her phone, Tiferet’s blue hair shimmering.
“Jason,” Sue said simply, pocketing the phone. Out of her other pocket, she revealed a bottle of whiskey. She took a swig, passed it to Michelle.
“Can you believe it’s ever summer here?” Tiferet asked, once again reading Michelle’s mind.
“No, I absolutely cannot.”
“Pass me that,” Tiferet said, grabbing the whiskey, “my wrist is throbbing.”
“Remember the first summer we were all in a cabin together?”
“Another life.”
“What about that summer there was twice as many boys in our unit as girls?”
“We had our pick!”
“I hated you that summer,” Sue said, taking a pull on the whiskey.
“What! Why?”
“You were the most popular, everybody adored you.” It was true, that summer was Michelle’s social zenith. But Sue was always right there with her, wasn’t she? If anything, it was Tiferet who was still an outsider that summer, still not grown into herself (though now here she was, lightyears ahead of them).
“And now?” Michelle asked, a teasing edge in her voice.
Sue jumped on her. “Now, I can’t live without you!”
“There’s no biological need for so many men,” Tiferet announced.
“What?” the other two girls said, settling back, laughing.
“It’s true. There’s no reason for parity between the sexes. We’re the only mammals that have it.”
“Text that to Jason!” Michelle said.
A squall of laughter. They fell back onto the ice. The stars were thick in the sky, though clouds were pooling in from the edges. Tiferet started talking about the incredibly hot, nearly empty space between the billions of galaxies, how there’s no more than an atom of matter per square metre out there, but it still adds up to more mass than all of the galaxies combined. “It’s called the intergalactic medium.”
“The intergalactic medium?!”
“No it’s not!”
“Tiferet!”
“It must get so lonely for that poor little atom, with nobody to talk to,” Sue said, after they calmed down. They were lying with their legs fanned out, their toqued and hooded heads touching.
“I don’t know, it must be nice, just being all alone out there,” Michelle said, “away from all this . . . stuff.”
Tiferet adjusted, grabbed Michelle and Sue’s hands.“What you’re not remembering is quantum mechanics,” she said, Michelle and Sue laughing, oh yes, of course, quantum mechanics, “that one atom constantly phasing in and out of existence, jumping from galaxy to galaxy, cluster to cluster. Nothing is ever really alone.”
“Damn, bitch, do you have to know everything?!”
The clouds had taken over the sky; the stars were gone. It started to snow, sharp dry flakes. Michelle was getting cold. Where was that whiskey bottle?
“I can’t believe you’re not coming back next summer,” Sue said.
Michelle closed her eyes. Her face was wet, her breath shallow. She could feel the infinite blackness of sleep underneath her, a lake grudgingly turning over.
“I think I’m depressed,” she said.
Sue and Tiferet didn’t say anything. They scooched to either side of her, held her in a hug.
The snow, coming faster now, with purpose, kissed their exposed faces, covered them in fine down.
Michelle woke up stiff and cold in the back seat of Tiferet’s car. She and Sue were entwined with each other under Sue’s unzipped sleeping bag. Michelle had been dreaming of bears swimming in lakes capped with ice. She surveyed the bright white world outside the window. By the time they had returned to the car last night it was snowing so hard they could barely see; now, there must be three feet of new snow out there. It was only then that Michelle noticed the car was on, Tiferet pulling the wheel, pushing on the gas, the tires spinning. “Fuck!” Tiferet yelled, hitting the steering wheel with her hand, yelping in pain.
They had to climb out of the windows to get out of the car. They stood in the sharp morning light, warming themselves. Sue had said very little since waking up. They were totally snowed in.
“What should we do?” Tiferet asked, her hand wrapped in a T-shirt.
“Wait for the snowplow, I guess.”
“What if it doesn’t come? I have study group this afternoon!”
“We can call CAA, or walk over to the reserve and ask for help.” Michelle trudged through the snow to where the gate usually stood. The camp looked entirely different than it did last night, and not just because there was a fresh blanket of snow erasing their tracks now. Everything was bright, white, present. Michelle watched a small avalanche of snow tumble off a white pine. The air was clean, wet, cold. She couldn’t see the lake, but she knew it was there. Michelle felt calm for the first time since they left Toronto. She turned around to tell the girls everything was going to be okay.
A truck had pulled up beside the car; it gave three short honks. It was Tova. She jumped out of the cab, Tim Hortons coffees in hand, wearing a black toque, red flannel jacket, unlaced work boots. Head of trip since before Michelle was a camper, co-owner since Tom retired, Tova was somebody who had managed to never leave camp. Beloved Tova.
“I thought you girls might need a hand,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “And Sue texted me at four in the morning.”
Sue squealed, jumped on her.
Along with the coffees she had brought Timbits, and, while Tova grabbed the tow line from her truck, Michelle popped three in her mouth, gulped the hot coffee. Nothing had ever tasted better. Tova went to unlock the kitchen basement, and returned with three shovels. Michelle started to dig out the front of the car, the satisfying physical labour of scooping mounds of snow warming her more than the coffee.
By the time Tova had hooked the tow line to Tiferet’s bumper, positioned the truck, and yanked the car free of the snowdrift and onto the somewhat-drivable road, it was mid morning. Tiferet’s hand was worse than she had let on, so Michelle offered to drive. After profuse thanks and tight hugs, they followed Tova out to the freshly plowed highway. Michelle accelerated hard, zipping past Tova. The entire world was generously glazed with fresh sugar, sparkling in the sun; the heat was on full blast, the radio off. “How many more winters will we have like this,” Tiferet said from the backseat, cradling her wrist.
Michelle didn’t know. And for now, she didn’t care. She pushed down on the gas. The speedometer was edging 140 kilometres. She kept accelerating. Michelle had the very clear sense that no matter how fast she went, she’d get them home in one piece. She’d get them home alive.