Page 99 of What Boys Learn

Naw, Grant said. And again:Naw, girls like her don’t tell. She’s totally fucked-up. Last thing she wants is anyone to know. You’re just mad you didn’t finish.

Ewan said,I don’t want your sloppy seconds.

They continue arguing, even as they pulled out and started driving opposite the direction the terrorized girl ran.

Ewan said,Way you gave it to her, she’s not as scared as she should be.

Ewan twisted and half crawled into the back seat, squashing me against the door. When my brother settled back into the front seat again, he had the vodka bottle and a pair of girl’s tennis shoes that he chucked—one, two—out the open window and into the blur of woods we were passing. Then he levered himself into the back again and came back with something small and white in his fist.

Promissory note, Ewan said, holding them up for us to see.I know where she lives. Met her at a party last summer. I already told her that if she says anything about me, I’m gonna come and give her a lot harder ride than she got, once she’s cleaned up and worth fucking again. Something to remember me by.

Grant said something under his breath but Ewan wouldn’t let it go.

I’m telling you, you damn fucker. You don’t know how to handle a girl.

Grant grabbed the bottle of vodka and started gulping it fast, heavy foot on the gas pedal, driving faster and faster the more Ewan kept ragging on him, telling him his fucking car was no good anyway, telling him he wished he never met Grant with his shitty taste in skinny girls and his piece of shit car and his . . .

But then I’m being pushed hard into the door again, my body suddenly twice as heavy, my shoulder starting to hurt because we are going around a curve way too fast, my eyes flashing open, my hands reaching out automatically toward the dashboard, fingers clawing for something to hold on to.

This, finally, was something I remembered, something I didn’t need the transcript for. The centrifugal force. The way I knew what was coming. The way Ewan and Grant wouldn’t stop shouting, even then, the speed and the vodka spilling and the sharp curve and then we weren’t on the road anymore, we were on the shoulder and beyond it, jolting and jumping and still going, forward, down a steep bank—but at least we were slowing, it seemed like. And then the car rolled.

Push, Ewan said.

That, I remember.

Stop crying push the door open help me fucking push, until we were able to get out.

But Grant was still in there, folded so far over the steering wheel it looked like it was part of him. Head turned toward us, mouth open, eyes shut. Big black trickle of blood running down the side of his face, dripping from his chin.

Minutes later, Ewan and I had managed to crawl up to the shoulder of the road. From there, we could still see the glint of light on the rolled car, and what looked like rising steam or dust, but only faintly.

You think he was still breathing?

I think so, I said.

That, I remember.

Ewan, I said.You shouldn’t. . .

Here comes a car.

A man pulled up and rolled down his window.You both all right? Is that your car down there?

I said,We’re fine.

Ewan looked at me.

I said,Tow truck’s on the way, and a trooper passed and said he’s coming back. Dealing with another emergency. So you can go.

Ewan stared at me. Surprise in his eyes, but something else. Pride. I’d never seen him look at me that way.

You sure?The stranger spoke directly to Ewan.This looks like an emergency. Your sister looks pretty shook up.

Didn’t you hear her? She said we’re fine.

I don’t know how long we waited there. Even in the transcript, it didn’t say. At some point Ewan left my side to walk down to where Grant was, in the flipped car. He came back muttering. He repeated the process a little while later. Then, at some point, he came back to me and said,Good job, Dogface. You’re smarter than I thought.

We started walking. We got home to our house just as the sun was coming up.