Big Cars Don't Cry

Sera’s voice faltered. “Actually, I…I think I want to be alone for a while. Just drive, OK?”

“You got it, sis.” I can’t count the times I’ve driven my sister crazy, James reflected, but I never thought I’d just be driving my sister.

He got onto the Interstate, pushing up to the speed limit. Sera was oddly silent—and when the windshield wiper detergent spray started going off by itself, he thought he could guess why. James patted the top of the dashboard, but didn’t say anything. Sera would talk when she was ready.

Now that the adrenalin rush had faded, James had to admit that he was pretty freaked out himself. The girl he’d grown up with was now a late-model Buick Regal?

All the guys in the neighborhood did say what a sweet ride she was, he thought. …no. Not funny, James.

But there was nobody to talk to about it—not even Sera, right now—so he’d just have to deal with it for now.

As they hit an otherwise empty stretch of desert, James noticed another car coming up behind them.

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