Kimberly McCreight - The Collide

“To protect you,” she exclaims, like this should be the most obvious thing. “And I know it’s not going to be easy to stay away. But it’s already been weeks since you’ve seen her. You’re already out of the habit. A clean break. That’s all you need. Don’t get yourself tied into knots again. You got out, Jasper. Keep it that way.”

But Jasper is already on his feet. She’s out. She’ s out. That’s all he can think. “I have to go.” He’s moving quickly toward the door.

“Jasper!” his mom shouts after him. “You have a real chance now. Don’t throw your life away for another girl.”

Jasper forces himself to stay calm as he turns back at the door. He can do this. He can say no but stay kind. Respectful.

“I’ll be careful, Mom,” he says, opening the door behind him and backing toward it. “But I need to go see Wylie, right now.”

His mom’s face is slick with tears.

“Jasper!” she shouts one last time as he steps through the door. “Why do you need them all so much?”

JASPER TRIES TO steady himself as he drives toward Wylie’s house in his old red Jeep—officially his since he paid his brother five hundred dollars for it. Why do you need them all so much? It’s ringing in his head. Because his mom isn’t wrong, in general. She’s just wrong in particular about Wylie.

Jasper pauses at a stop sign as he approaches downtown Newton, meets eyes with a cop parked there, waiting for people to blow through. A reminder: be careful. But Jasper can do this. He can have Wylie in his life and keep himself on the straight and narrow. It doesn’t have to be either-or.

Though it is eating at him that Wylie didn’t even mention she might be getting out. He just saw her and not a word? Jasper wants not to be hurt. Wants not to feel suspicious. But he is. And he does.

Another five minutes of driving, and Jasper stops again—this time at a red light, ready to turn right toward Wylie’s part of town. The so-much-nicer-than-where-Jasper-lives part. Those differences between him and Wylie don’t matter. At least so far they haven’t. But then Jasper and Wylie have been together together in a bubble. What if things are different between them in the real world? What if that’s why Wylie didn’t tell Jasper she was getting out? Does she have doubts?

A horn blasts behind Jasper. The light has turned green, and he’s been sitting there, lost in the tangle of Wylie loves me. She loves me not . He startles, punches down hard on the gas, and lifts the clutch. The old Jeep hesitates before finally lurching forward.

Almost instantly, there’s a vicious crunch. And then a yelp. Jasper’s eyes shoot up as the horn behind him sounds again.

“Shit,” he gasps, jamming the Jeep into park. He claws at his door. “Oh, shit.”

He jumps out, hands shaking, heart pumping as he races around to the front of the Jeep.

“Oh God, did he hit somebody?” a man shouts from somewhere behind. “Holy crap.”

Jasper sees the bike first. The wheel bent, but otherwise in one piece. And then the girl, sitting on the ground, gripping her knee. Her eyes are open. She’s breathing.

He finally exhales.

“Are you okay, honey?” An old woman rushes past Jasper and kneels down next to the girl. “Don’t get up. You need to take your time. Did you hit your head? You could have a concussion.” The woman has short, gray hair and a frumpy tent dress. She turns and gives Jasper the most hateful stink-eye. “Were you on your phone? You were, weren’t you? You could have killed somebody! You could have killed her!”

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Jasper asks the girl.

She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I think—”

“So stupid!” the old man piles on as he rushes up from behind.

“You honked at me,” Jasper says quietly, though he knows that getting into it with them is stupid, pointless.

“I’m calling an ambulance. And the cops!” the woman barks, pulling out her phone. She looks him up and down, disgusted. “What kind of person are you?”

“It was an accident!” Jasper shouts back, his face hot. “A mistake. People make them!”

“Stupid, that’s what you are.” The man steps closer, spitting and red-faced. “Are you stupid?”

“Stop saying that, man,” Jasper growls, his fists clenched. He swallows down the urge to use them. Don’t hit him, he’s old. Don’t hit him, he’s old , Jasper chants to himself. But he’s not sure it is working. He can feel the punch already, the impact.

“Stop yelling! Please!” the girl shouts, startling the old couple. She waves her hands. “It was my fault. I ran the light.” She pushes herself unsteadily to her feet. She is pretty and fit in her high-tech, expensive-looking bicycle clothes, even those old-school sweatbands on her wrists and, luckily, a helmet. When she takes it off, her long, dark hair falls over her shoulders. “Please don’t call the police. My parents will be mad at me for not paying attention. They’re always on me for that. And I’m fine anyway.”

Jasper feels a guilty wave of relief. He’d be much happier, all things considered, if they didn’t call the police. His mom would say this proved her point about Wylie being a bad distraction. Coach might consider it his last strike.

“I really am sorry,” Jasper manages, meeting eyes with the girl for the first time. They shimmer between hazel and gold, like two small kaleidoscopes. Jasper’s never seen eyes like that. For a second, he forgets what he was saying. “Um, I didn’t see you.”

“Well, of course you didn’t see her,” the woman snorts.

“You kids and your damn cell phones,” her husband adds.

“I wasn’t on my phone,” Jasper says, and pretty mildly, considering how far up in his face they are. “I was distracted for a second and then you blew your horn—I don’t know what happened. She said she went through the light.”

“It was totally my fault,” the girl confirms as she moves her bike off to the shoulder. The wheel is so bent. There is no way she is riding it anywhere. “I’m not used to so many traffic lights.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Jasper offers. “We can throw your bike in the back.”

He hates the idea of not going straight to Wylie’s right this second. But what choice does he have? He hit this girl with his car .

“If anyone is going to drive her, it should be us,” the woman says. “You should go get yourself some driving lessons.”

The girl looks the woman right in the eye. “Thank you for stopping,” she says, calm but fierce. “But if you could stop yelling, that would be great. I know it’s making you feel good, but it’s not helping me. I already have a headache. And maybe you should worry less about me and more about why your husband is so jacked up that he was laying on the horn like that in the first place.”

“Ugh.” The woman recoils, disgusted. She waves at her husband to come along. “Let’s go. They deserve each other.”

And with that, the two march back toward their Buick sedan.

“THANK YOU,” JASPER says when the couple is finally pulling away.

The girl shrugs. “The biggest jerks always spend the most time pointing fingers.”

Jasper smiles. She’s right about that. “Anyway, sorry again. I’m really glad you’re okay. I should have been paying more attention.”

She tilts her head. “You seem really invested in jamming yourself under the nearest bus. I said I ran the light.”

Jasper feels himself blush. He wants to put his hands up to his face to cover it. “Let me give you a ride home,” he says. “It’ll help me get out from under the bus.”

She looks down at her bike, taking in how damaged it really is. Finally, she nods. “Okay.”