Lives Collide
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2017 – Kristina Beck
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editing: Dori Harrell, Breakout Editing
Proofreading: Rachel Overton, Wordscapes
Book Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations LLC
Book Cover Image: David Koscheck
Book Formatting: Rik Hall, Wild Seas Formatting
Biography photograph: Fotografie Lehmann
To Christoph, Sarah, Anna, and Lucas
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Two
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Part One
Chapter 1
Lisa
I hear a loose shutter outside the window, fighting with the blustery wind. Every creak and bang tells me the wind is winning. I lift my head from my pillow and look out the frosty window. “That blows!” I forgot to pull the window shade down before I went to bed last night. The view outside would make anyone want to stay in her warm bed all day. Sleet with a mix of snow falls heavily from the gray sky. I hate New Jersey in February. The weather is mostly cold, wet, and windy. The sun peeks out sporadically, just to tease everyone.
I pull the heavy yellow down comforter over my head and lie there in a ball in my black-and-red flannel pajamas. Maybe I should pretend I’m sick so I can stay in bed. No matter how much I want to stay in bed though, today is grocery shopping Saturday. Mom will know I’m faking if I claim I’m sick. She’s aware that I despise going. Every other week, I must go with her to buy two weeks’ worth of food. Not the most thrilling Saturday morning activity for a fifteen-year-old high school freshman. I wish my older sister, Tina, would go once in a while. Lucky for her, she works every Saturday morning.
I hear quick footsteps coming toward my bedroom door. I hide under the comforter like a scared child. Someone knocks once and opens the door. I peek my head out and hear Mom sigh. She puts her hands on her hips. “Lisa, please get up and get dressed! Why must we go through this every time we need to go shopping? It’s a hectic day for me. Tina needs to be at the pharmacy by nine. We should leave a little earlier than usual because the roads might be slippery. Then we have to go grocery shopping. After shopping, we need to get back home quickly because your dad and I have an appointment at a car dealer at eleven.” She looks up and lifts her hands. “Finally, we found an advertisement for the type of car we want to buy. You have fifteen minutes to get ready.”
“I’m up, Mom. Get off my back. I’ll be ready soon,” I mumble. My family knows I am not a morning person. She walks away but doesn’t close the door.
I throw my comforter off and roll out of bed. I stomp over to the dresser and look at myself in the mirror. My shoulders drop as I groan. My long, wavy brown hair is a big rat’s nest. Brushing it will be useless. I have no time to take a shower or wash my face. There is no way I’m leaving this house with my hair looking like this. Today is officially hat day.
Dirty and clean clothes are scattered all over the old, stained, yellow carpet. As I grab something hopefully clean to wear, my foot tangles with one of my school bag straps. I fall over and just miss hitting my head on the corner of the footboard. “It’s going to be one of those freaking days,” I say with clenched fists.
After standing up, I put on my favorite gray New York Mets sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror. These sweatpants look stupid because they are too long. I look like a slob. However, January’s Teen magazine said the sloppy look rocks now. Well, it better be fashionable enough for grocery shopping. With my luck, I’ll see someone I know or a cute guy.
I leave my room and hurry down the stairs. Where the hell is everyone? I put on my pink ski jacket and ski hat. The weather calls for snow boots, but they will look dumb with this outfit. I slip on my grungy sneakers instead. I hear a car horn honk. I look out the front window and see they’re already waiting in the car.
I run out the front door and almost fall on the slippery sidewalk. I continue slowly to the car, trying to dodge the sleet and snow. When I slide onto the backseat, I notice Tina is driving. She only has her permit. With this weather, I’m surprised Mom is letting her drive our ugly, old brown Chevy station wagon to work. It has to be at least twenty years old. I’m so embarrassed to be seen in it.
Dad has been a mechanic since he was eighteen years old. He refuses to buy a new car, but maybe he’ll change his mind today. Whenever I ask him when we’ll get a new modern car, he says, “Why do we need a new one when I can fix anything that goes wrong with this old one? It saves us money.” I was surprised to hear Mom say they’ll be shopping for a car today.
As we pull out of the driveway, I move to the middle of the backseat and put the seat belt on over my stomach. This Chevy doesn’t even have over-the-shoulder straps. How is it legal to drive this car? I usually don’t wear a seat belt, but this weather, mixed with Tina driving, makes me nervous.
“Tina, did you turn on the stupid heat yet? It’s freezing in here.” I rub my hands together and breathe into them to get warm. My sneakers are soaked just from walking from the house to the car. I regret the choice of shoes. At least I have my ski jacket and hat.
Tina looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Yes, I turned it on, but you know how long it takes for this shit car to warm up,” she says as she rolls her eyes.
“Tina, can you please watch your language? I know this is how you talk around your friends, but I don’t want to hear it when you
’re around me,” Mom hisses. “Watch the road and make sure you’re driving under the speed limit in this weather.” Mom shakes her head in irritation.
I look out the foggy window. “Why did we take the Chevy today anyway? Doesn’t Dad’s car drive better in the snow?”
“Your dad had to take his car to the garage to fix something. Any more questions, comments, or complaints?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I look at Tina in the rearview mirror again, noticing that her eyes are bugging out of her head at Mom’s unusual annoyance.
We remain quiet for the rest of the drive. Big snowflakes stick to the windows. It’s not a pretty, fluffy snow blowing around. It’s a heavy, wet snow that creates puddles of mud Slurpees all over the streets.
“Mom, the weather is getting worse. Can we please go home after we drop Tina off?”
“No, we can’t. Stop making excuses not to go shopping with me. I need your help.” She rubs her eyebrows.
What the hell is wrong with her today? She’s usually the cheery one of the family.
“This bad weather makes me nervous. That’s all I’m trying to say,” I respond.
We arrive at the pharmacy, and Tina parks the car. The pharmacy windows are decorated with red hearts and cupids. I forgot today is Valentine’s Day. Tina jumps out and leaves the door open for Mom. She doesn’t even say good-bye to us. Snow blows into the car. Mom runs to the driver’s side and gets in. She shakes her head to get the wet snow out of her hair. Normally, I would immediately jump into the front seat, but I’m too lazy and don’t want to get wet again.
Mom cautiously pulls out of the parking lot, but the back tires spin.
“Be careful, Mom.”
“I know, Lisa,” she snaps. “Would you please stop worrying?” She turns left onto Main Street, which is a four-lane road that runs through Hillstown.
Knots form in my stomach because she’s driving too fast. I don’t want to say anything because I’ll only annoy her more, but I need to. “Mom, aren’t you driving too fast? I know you’re in a rush, but the roads are slippery.”
“The speed limit is fifty miles per hour on this road. I am driving fifty.” As she says this, I notice a black pickup pulling out of a street on our right. The truck is not stopping for us.
“Slow down, Mom,” I scream. I lean over and grip the top of the front seat hard, as if I can control the brakes.
Our car starts sliding, and the back fishtails. I hear Mom scream and then the sound of grinding metal. My body shoots forward. The seat belt catches me, then flings me back into the seat like a slingshot. A sizzling pain burns in my stomach and back.
It takes me a few seconds to focus. The eerie sound of silence is worse than the grinding metal. I look around, and bile rises in my throat. We’ve hit a large oak tree head on. Blood is splattered over the dashboard and windshield. Mom is slouched over the steering wheel, not moving. Her head angles to the right, and blood covers her face. I fight the urge to throw up.
I cry out, “Mom! Mom, can you hear me? Please say something.” No reaction. “I’ll go for help!” Still no response. Her eyes are open—why isn’t she responding?
My heart races as if it would jump out of my chest and run away. As instinct kicks in, I unbuckle my seat belt. When I open the door, I fall out and land in a pile of slush. My sweatpants and sneakers are soaked. I pull myself up by grabbing the car door. My legs are shaking and feel weighed down by bricks. Running is the only option, but it’s almost impossible because I can hardly get my feet off the ground. The pain in my stomach grows worse. I push myself to move, and adrenaline suddenly pumps through my veins.
As I try to run, I hear a car. I look to the left and see a young guy driving up next to me. “Where are you going? You should stay near your car,” he shouts through his open window.
“I need to get help,” I cry.
He stops his car and quickly slides out. He takes off his brown leather jacket and puts it over my shoulders.
“I have so much pain. I can’t run fast enough.”
“Please sit in my car. You shouldn’t be moving. I’ll go get help.” He leads me to his car and opens the passenger door. He talks to me, but I can’t focus on his voice. He closes the door and runs off.
My body shakes profusely. I’m so petrified, wet, and freezing. I look out the window toward our car, which now looks like a damaged accordion. It’s hard to see because the windows are fogging up. I need to help Mom, but my body won’t move anymore. How can I leave her there though?
I see the guy running back to his car. He opens the door and looks in. “I asked someone to call for an ambulance. They’ll be here as soon as possible,” he says, out of breath.
“Please help my mom!” He nods and runs to my car. After a few minutes, he comes back with his head down. He opens the car door and lowers his head to look in. Before I have time to ask him about Mom, I look down and scream. My sweatpants are soaked with blood. I look up at him and see the sheer panic on his face. His big emerald-green eyes pierce through me like lasers. They are the last things I see before everything goes black.
Chapter 2
James
The ski slopes are covered in a fresh blanket of powdered snow, with clear blue skies above. The air is bitingly cold and tickles my lungs when I inhale. My breath leaves my lungs as a steamy cloud. There is nothing better than the smell of fresh snow. It reminds me of crisp, fresh sheets that have been drying outside in the sun all day. We couldn’t ask for a better day for skiing.
It’s January 2, and it’s our last day of skiing. Every year since I was little, my family and I have vacationed in Killington, Vermont, for Christmas and New Year’s. As usual, we are staying at the Snow Peak Lodge. We woke up early to hit the slopes today, anticipating a fresh blanket of snow.
I walk out of the lodge with my sister, Alexa. We head toward the ski lifts. I need to take advantage of this last day and enjoy it. My last semester at Johnson College starts in one week. My college is in New York State, but right on the border of New Jersey.
I start medical school in the fall. I was accepted to a few competitive medical schools, but I’ve chosen Clarion College of Physicians and Surgeons, also in New York, not too far from Johnson College. I like Clarion’s reputation, because I hope to become a trauma surgeon. It’s also close to my parents’ home, in Clearwater, New Jersey—just a forty-five-minute drive south from where I’ll live.
It might be my last time skiing for a while. Medical school will be difficult and time consuming.
I studied my ass off to get into med school. When I received the acceptance letter into Clarion, my hard work paid off. My dream of becoming a surgeon is closer to reality. Ever since I helped that young girl after that car accident when I was seventeen, I’ve wanted to study medicine. I remember it like it was yesterday. How helpless I felt when I couldn’t help her or her mother. I was terrified I’d do something wrong. The paramedics were so quick and knew exactly what to do.
That day changed me forever. My future has been planned for the next eight years. Once I make a decision, I stick with it. Nothing will get in my way. I’m not flexible with time or planning my life. Flexibility is not part of my vocabulary.
I was completely overwhelmed with what I experienced that day. I still wonder what happened to her. She looked like she was fourteen or fifteen years old. I hope she and her mother survived. I looked in the newspaper for days to see if the car accident was reported. There was nothing. I wonder what she’s like today. I guess she’d be around eighteen or nineteen. Does she still have my leather jacket? Would I recognize her if I saw her now?
The worst memory I have of her was her bleeding in my car. The passenger seat was a constant reminder. It took several months to stop replaying the accident in my head or dreaming about it. Slowly the amount of dreams decreased. But every once in a while, one still comes out of nowhere, and I see her big crystal-blue eyes staring at me.
My boss at the gas station fired me that d
ay. I’d been late for work too many times in the previous weeks. He’d threatened to let me go if I was late one more time. He didn’t care why I was late or even about the people hurt in the car crash. After what happened, I didn’t care that I was fired. I did the right thing. Did he really expect me to drive away from an accident and just ignore the people who needed help? From that day on, I knew my future career would be in medicine. If I’m ever in a situation again when someone needs help, I’ll know what to do.
Alexa and I are sitting on the ski lift, heading up to one of the new black-diamond slopes. She’s wearing a bright-red ski suit with a matching hat that has a big pompom on top. She would be hard to miss, especially against the white snow. She likes to stand out in a crowd. I’m wearing mostly black with a red stripe on my jacket. I bought a new black ski helmet before I came on this trip. She laughed at me when I suggested she buy one as well. She would rather wear a hat with a huge pompom on it. Typical.
The brilliant sun reflects off the snow, blinding me. Even with goggles, the sun glare will be dangerous. This is a new slope; one I haven’t traversed before. I’m a little tense. I’m not sure why, since I’m twenty-one years old and have been skiing since I was ten. I consider myself pretty experienced. However, I have too much to lose if I hurt myself. No matter what, I need to finish this last semester of college. I keep rubbing my hands together.
Alexa constantly makes fun of me. “Are you nervous, James? Don’t be afraid, you fucking scaredy-cat. You have your new helmet. That will protect you,” she says as she pulls the helmet forward.
“You have such a trash mouth. Do you kiss your million boyfriends with that mouth?” I joke while I fix my helmet.
“I’m from New Jersey. What do you expect? Like you never swear. Oh, wait—you don’t.” She laughs.
I swear, but only when I’m in stressful situations.
“You know why I’m like this. I need to graduate this year. It’s too important to me.”
“You need to lighten up. Stop worrying.” She pokes me in the cheek.
“I’ll go down first. Watch and learn.” She’s twenty years old and just as good at skiing as I am, if not better.
Lives Collide (Collide #1) Page 1