Five Total Strangers

by Natalie D. Richards

  I try to don a look of pure camaraderie. “Look, let’s get my laptop so we can charge a phone and get the hell out of here. Let’s get home, okay?”

  He’s not moving, and I’m done waiting. I edge closer and drag my bag out. Brecken watches on with hooded eyes. Harper opens the back door and the alarm sounds, a familiar ding-ding-ding in the quiet. I catch her eyes and shoot her an I-am-not-okay look.

  Her brow is furrowed with worry when she stands. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s fine,” I say, though I don’t know why.

  “It’s not fine,” Brecken says, closing the trunk and moving close to us so he can drop his voice. “I think Josh is trying to frame me for all this. I think he’s behind all of this.”

  “Behind what?” Harper asks.

  “All of it!” Brecken rails at her like I’m not here anymore. Like he’s not repeating what he just told me. “Hitting that asshole. Driving away from the station. He wanted us to come up here. He suggested I-80. He’s planning something!”

  “You both suggested I-80, and you were driving when the boy was hit,” Harper says, her voice calm and steady. No, it’s more than that. She sounds clinical, like the doctors who dealt out the details of Phoebe’s prognosis. “It’s normal for us to look for someone to blame for all of this, but that doesn’t mean someone is guilty.”

  “We have to leave Josh here,” he says, ignoring her. “We can’t risk it.”

  “What are you talking about? We’re not leaving him,” I say. What I don’t say is that Josh suggested the same damn thing about him. And I’m beginning to think it was a good idea.

  “He can’t be in this car!” Brecken says. “We don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “Probably read some more,” I mutter.

  Harper sighs. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this. We can’t keep tearing into each other. This weather—these roads. This is an emergency. We have to work together to stay safe.”

  “No. Not with Josh. He’s dangerous,” Brecken says.

  “Well, Josh thinks you’re dangerous,” Harper says. “And I think Kayla is dangerous. I’ll bet Mira has her ideas. Maybe we’re all just at the end of our rope and looking for somewhere to point a finger.”

  Brecken ignores her. “All of these things that are happening—someone is behind them. You have to see that.”

  “Are you so sure?” Harper says.

  He doesn’t answer, and her question creeps through me, cold and unwelcome. Is she right? Are we all just starting to lose it? Am I reading myself wrong about all of this?

  I shiver, hitching my bag higher and pushing the thought out. “I’m getting in the car. I want to charge a phone.”

  I’m at the door, but Harper’s half blocking the back door with her body, her arm outstretched to wave Brecken forward.

  “Come on. Let’s get going,” she tells him.

  I duck in front of her to get in. There’s a scrabble of feet beside me. A sharp yelp. Something jerks my bag, pulling me backward. Harper. One strap slides off my shoulder, and my bag flips. They both fall—Harper and the bag.

  I flail, desperately reaching, but it’s too late. Harper’s knees hit the snow as something dark and heavy slides out of my backpack. My fingers just brush the edge, but Harper reaches, too, bumping my hands with her elbow. My laptop lands with a quiet crack on the snowy pavement.

  And Harper meets my eyes.

  December 24

  Mira,

  You should have known me. I stood behind you in line at the gate. Do you realize how close we were on that bridgeway? Even closer on the plane.

  I watched you message your parents and sketch in your notebook. I heard you sigh when you waited in the aisle for the man with the oversized suitcase.

  You looked at me, Mira—right at me. I was sure in that moment it was fine. I would hand you these letters. Our eyes would meet and all of these long months apart wouldn’t matter.

  We would be together again.

  But you didn’t see me.

  You didn’t see me.

  And I’m going to make you pay.

  Yours

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It looks completely fine. Back in the car, the commotion wakes Kayla and draws us all into a tight circle around me in the back seat. I brush off every bit of snow I can see and turn the laptop over and over, trying to assess the damage. I find two cracks on one of the hinges that allows the lid to open and close. It’s unremarkable, a small diagonal fracture in the case. It could be okay.

  “It landed on its corner,” Harper says, still brushing snow from her knees. “I’m so so sorry. I tried to grab it.”

  “Is it working?” Josh sounds worried.

  “It’s got a light,” I say, pressing the power button. I hear a high-pitched hum winding up, and then it stops abruptly. The power button flashes yellow, yellow, yellow.

  My heart sinks.

  “Does it always flash like that?” Brecken asks. He’s still outside to give me room, but he’s leaning in.

  “If so, that’s annoying as hell,” Kayla says.

  “I don’t care if it’s annoying,” Harper—in the front now—leans over the driver’s seat to peer into the back. “I can buy you a new laptop if it’s broken. But can we still charge our phones?”

  “I…” I trail off, testing the power button and feeling the case near that hinge give a little.

  The screen stays black and the button continues to flash. My head throbs.

  Brecken pulls one of the cords from the busted charger. “Try my cord and phone. Maybe it’s just the screen.”

  “Is it turning on?” Josh asks again.

  “No, it’s just…” I shake my head, pressing the power button again. The same whirring starts and then stops. The button continues to flash. I try Brecken’s cord on all three ports, but there’s no response.

  “It’s like it’s stuck in suspend,” I say, feeling faintly sick.

  “Maybe it’s just a loose connection,” Harper says. “I’m sure someone can help you fix it when you get into town.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Brecken scoffs.

  “Is the charger working?” Josh asks.

  I shake my head and swallow hard, tasting defeat.

  “Let me try,” Harper says, gently prying Brecken’s phone from the charger. She plugs hers in instead and then frowns. She flips the cable around. Tries it again.

  I watch her, replaying that moment outside. I almost caught it. I almost stopped this from happening, but Harper bumped my hands.

  Because she was trying to catch it, too.

  Or was she trying to stop me?

  “I’m sorry, Mira,” Josh says with a sigh. “I wish I could do something.”

  “Me too,” Harper says. I’m not sure if I believe her.

  “How the hell did you manage to drop your laptop?” Brecken asks softly.

  “Hey!” Josh’s voice is sharp. “Don’t you think you’ve already made this hard enough?”

  Brecken throws up his hands. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to blame me for the broken laptop now?”

  “Oh my God,” Kayla says. “Do you think we can get a break from you being a bitch-boy crybaby for five minutes?”

  “No one is blaming you,” I say. “Just stop making it worse.”

  Except it’s already worse. It got twenty times worse when I dropped my laptop. Correction: when Harper knocked it out of my hands. I glance at her, a flicker of uncertainty running through me. She wouldn’t have…would she?

  “We need to regroup,” Josh says. “We have no map. No phones. No way to charge our phones. How much gas do we have?”

  “Two-thirds of a tank,” Brecken says.

  “Maybe we need to search the car,” Harper suggests. “We still haven’t searched for ports in the back.
Or maybe there’s another map in one of the pockets or something.”

  “I think we would have noticed plugs in the back,” Kayla says. “Remember the Great Search Party for Mira’s Phone?”

  “That’s right,” Josh says. “We pulled everything out.”

  “Our bags,” Harper says. “Let’s go through our bags and see if we have anything we’re forgetting about. Does anybody have an iPod? Or a notebook that might have a map?”

  “A notebook with a road map?” Brecken asks. “We’re wasting time. You’ve already been through our bags.”

  “Let’s at least check the emergency kit again,” Josh says. “Maybe there’s something useful back there we missed.”

  Agreeing, we file out again, five reluctant, weary travelers, shivering in the cold and aching from too many hours in the car. The trunk forms the center of our huddle, the focal point of our miserable half circle.

  “Pop it,” Brecken says.

  Harper does and we start shifting bags and searching the emergency kit. There’s nothing in our bags. Nothing in the kits, either. Harper pulls everything out to get to the spare tire compartment. It leaves the luggage compartment bare. We can see the seam of the back seat here, the place where the seats fold down to create a continuous storage area.

  In the middle of the hinge, something glints.

  “What is that?” Josh asks.

  Harper leans in over the luggage and presses her finger against something silver. She recoils and inhales sharply. “It’s sharp.”

  “It’s one of those metal pulls, then,” Brecken says dismissively.

  “I don’t think so.” Harper picks at it, frowning. She pushes her fingers into the crack and her frown deepens. She wrestles and tugs carefully and I watch in shock as a long, silver-handled hunting knife emerges from the seam of the seat.

  My throat tightens as she tilts it, the taillights reflected on the silvery blade.

  I was sitting right there, in that seat. I was sitting inches away from that knife.

  “What the hell is that?” Brecken asks, as if he actually doesn’t know.

  “It’s a knife,” Kayla says. “Obviously.”

  “What is that doing here?” Josh asks, reaching for it. It’s long and mean-looking, the kind of knife you see behind glass in the camping section.

  “This was in your seat,” Harper says quietly, her eyes reaching mine after the words are out. “This was right behind you.”

  “I know.” I shudder. “If I’d moved wrong it could have stabbed me.”

  “No,” Harper says evenly. She’s looking at me with an expression I can’t read. “The blade was facing the trunk. Whoever put this in that crevice shoved it in from the back seat.”

  “The seat where you were sitting,” Brecken says coolly.

  Fear prickles at the back of my neck. “I’m not the only one who sat in that seat!”

  Harper pales, her voice very quiet. “But you sat it in most, and you sat in it last.”

  “Come on, that doesn’t have anything to do with anything,” Josh says. “That could have been in there for months.”

  “Or she could have shoved it in there before we searched bags,” Brecken says. “She could have hidden it there so we wouldn’t find it.”

  “For her hunting expedition later?” Kayla asks, rolling her eyes. “Get real. Does she look like a girl who handles knives?”

  “It’s not hers,” Josh says, shaking his head. “No way.”

  Harper looks uncertain and Brecken looks downright suspicious. My chest feels hot and tight like I’ve done something wrong, but I haven’t.

  “It’s not!” I say, looking at Harper. She won’t meet my eyes now, and I can see her face shifting. She doesn’t know if she can believe me. Or maybe she wants everyone to think it’s mine. And maybe what happened with my laptop wasn’t an accident.

  Did she plan this? Did she put that knife behind me in the middle of calling me sweetheart and pretending to be oh-so concerned? My stomach rolls.

  “Think about it,” Brecken says, shifting closer to Harper. “Who was the last person to see the map? Mira.”

  “Cut it out,” Josh says. “This is stupid.”

  I want to defend myself, but there’s a roar behind my ears and a lump in my throat.

  “Is it?” he asks. “Because as I recall, the person alone in the car with Harper at the gas station—before her wallet went missing? That was Mira, too. The person who plugged in our phones? Mira. She was the last one to touch the map. And the person who just dropped the last device that could have charged one of our phones? Ding, ding, ding! Mira again.”

  “I didn’t do this!” I cry. “I didn’t drop my own freaking laptop, and I’ve never seen this knife before. I wouldn’t even know how to get something like that!”

  Harper steps back, face pinched. Her expression is familiar. I bet I was wearing one just like it when Brecken was standing in my spot, begging me to listen to him about Josh pulling the wheel. Professing his innocence while I looked on, clearly not believing a word.

  I wonder if he felt the same way, pulse rabbiting and stomach clenched. I wonder if he felt as trapped and helpless as I feel now, with the evidence pointing at something terrible, and the truth a slippery thing, always just out of reach. Even Josh is looking at me like he isn’t so sure.

  They could leave me here. They could blame this—all of these insane things—on me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

  “Who should we leave now, Mira?” Brecken asks. It’s as mean as I’ve seen him.

  “No one’s leaving anyone,” Harper says, voice firm.

  “You aren’t the CEO of this shit show,” Brecken snarls. “I don’t seriously want to leave her, but I’d love to know why the hell she’s hiding a knife in her seat.”

  Josh shakes his head. “Wait. None of us could have had a knife—you can’t carry a knife on a plane. The knife had to have been here before we even got the car.”

  “He’s right,” Harper says softly. “You can’t fly with a blade this long.” She puts the knife down in the trunk like it’s suddenly burning her fingers. She stares at it, face blanched. “Think, Harper,” she whispers, apparently to herself. “Just think.”

  Brecken doesn’t miss the chance. He takes her by the shoulders and turns her to face him. “That girl has had you snowed since the beginning. She’s hiding something.”

  I swallow hard. I feel sick and cold all over. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Oh my God, come on,” Kayla says, sounding annoyed.

  “What possible motive would she have?” Josh asks.

  “What motive would I have?” Brecken asks. “You’ve been steering shit my way all this time but there’s only one person in this car toting a weapon, and it’s not me.”

  I explode. “It’s not my seat or my knife, and we both know you’re doing this to pass your own guilt off on someone else!”

  Brecken lunges forward. “You’re a little—”

  Josh pushes between us. “Don’t you touch—”

  “It’s my knife!”

  The three of us freeze at the shock of Kayla’s voice. There’s no shame or guilt in her posture. She stands with crossed arms and her chin high as she repeats it. “It’s my knife.”

  “You had a knife on the plane,” Harper says, obviously not believing her. She’s not the only one.

  “No, moron,” Kayla says, rolling her eyes. “I bought it at the gas station. There was a case in the back. With the fishing shit.”

  “When?” I ask. “You didn’t have any money.”

  A muscle jumps in her jaw and I can tell she’s thinking something over. Finally, she sighs. “Fine, I took it.”

  “Took it, as in, stole it?” Harper asks.

  She lifts one slim shoulder. “The cabinet lock wasn’t latched.
They were practically begging for it.”

  I blink. “You stole a hunting knife. From a gas station.”

  “Please. Let’s not act like you’re shocked,” she says.

  “Why?” Josh asks, sounding bewildered.

  “For protection,” she says, scowling. “Newsflash: I don’t know any of you.”

  “And you thought we were the kind of threat that requires a big, scary knife?” I ask.

  She throws up her hands like this is all stupid. “It was there. I took it. I figured I’d have it if I need it. And if not, I could give it to my dad for Christmas. He loves shit like that.”

  “You stole a Christmas present?” Josh asks, still sounding stunned.

  “So what?” Kayla crosses her arms. Not an ounce of remorse shows in her eyes.

  “Holy-shit factor aside, why did you hide it in Mira’s seat?” Brecken asks.

  “Because you started checking bags, and I didn’t want you all freaking out.”

  “Freaking out about someone in the car having a weapon feels reasonable,” Harper says.

  Kayla cocks her head. “Well, you aren’t all that freaked out about driving with a guy who attempted vehicular manslaughter.”

  Brecken lunges forward. “I’m sick of your—”

  “Enough!” Josh raises both hands, one toward Kayla and the other to Brecken. “I’m done with this. The way I see it, we have two options. We stand here and fight about who’s doing what or we get in the car and try to get to a gas station or whatever else we can find.”

  “You’re forgetting option three,” Brecken says, eyes hard.

  “What’s that?” Kayla asks. “Leave me here?”

  “I’m just saying, you stole a knife, and I’m not buying that you were thinking of your dad on Christmas morning when you did it,” Brecken says. “What are you hiding?”

  “What am I hiding? You want to pretend you don’t have any secrets?” Kayla asks. “Funny how you haven’t mentioned what you’re hiding, Brecken.”

  Brecken’s face shutters in an instant. “What are you talking about?”