Prom Nights from Hell

From the backseat Sibby said, "That might have been too mean. Sorry."

Miranda didn't say anything.

"You don't really have a stick in your butt. You couldn't drive then, right? Ha-ha?"

Silence.

"But I mean, you started it. With the child-lock thing. I'm not a child. I'm fourteen."

More silence.

"I said I was sorry." In the backseat Sibby slumped, sighed. "Fine. Be that way."

Silence. Until, for no reason she could explain, Miranda said, "They died."

Sibby sat up quick now, leaning toward the front seat. "Who? Your sisters?"

"Everyone. My whole family."

"Was it because of something you did?"

"Yes. And because of something I didn't do. I think."

"Um, Grandma Grim, that doesn't make any sense. How can not doing something-wait, you think?. Don't you know what happened?"

"I can't really remember anything from that part of my life."

"You mean from that day?"

"No. From that year. And the year after. Anything pretty much from when I was ten until when I turned twelve. And there are a few other holes, too."

"You mean that stuff is just too painful to remember?"

"No, it's just… gone. All I have are impressions." And the dreams. Really really bad dreams.

"Like what?"

"Like that I wasn't where I should have been and something happened and I let everyone down…" She stopped, waved a hand in the air.

"Wait, you actually think you could have stopped whatever happened to them? By yourself? When you were four years younger than me?"

Miranda's throat felt like it was closing up. She'd never told anyone even that much of her real history before, never talked about it, not even with Kenzi. Ever. She swallowed hard. "I could have tried. I could have been there and tried."

"Oh my gods, now this is some kind of pity party. Yawn. Wake me when you're done."

Miranda gaped at her in the mirror. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it but you kept bugging me and now you turn into the mayor of TellItLikeItIsVille?" Swallowing again. "You little-"

"You don't even know what happened! How can you feel so bad about it? Plus, I don't see how that can be your fault. You weren't even there and you were only ten. I think you should stop obsessing about some mystery thing that is ancient history and live in the mo."

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me to 'live in the mo'?"

"Yes. You know, ditch the past and try focusing on what's going on in the present. Like that the song on the radio right now? Sucks. And that there is a whole city of cute boys out there I am not kissing." Miranda took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, Sibby went on. "I know, I know you say you're sorry to the people you knock out because you never got to say sorry to your family, and you have to keep me safe because you couldn't keep them safe. I get it now."

"That is not what's going on. I-"

"Blah blah blah, insert denials here. Anyway, why does 'safe' have to mean sitting in this car with you all night? Isn't there somewhere we could blend in? Instead of hiding? I'm good at blending. I'm like butter."

"Oh yeah, you're totally like butter. In fact, in your Madonna-called-and-she-wants-her-costume-from-the-'Borderline'-video-back outfit, you're practically invisible."

"Good one, Funkiller. Come on, let's go somewhere."

Miranda turned all the way around in her seat and said, "Let me sound it out for you. Someone. Is. Trying. To. Kill. You."

"No. They. Are. Not. You keep saying that, but I've told you. They can't kill me. You should really work on this obsession you have with people getting killed. And I have to be honest with you, I'm getting bored. What do you have the radio set to, K-CRAP? There is no way we are staying in this car for six hours."

Miranda had to agree with her. Because if they did, it was now clear she'd kill Sibby herself.

That's when she thought of the perfect place for them to go.

"You want to blend in?" she asked.

"Yes. With boys."

"Guys," Miranda said.

"What?"

"Normal American girls from this century call them guys, not boys. If you want to blend in."

For a second, Sibby looked shocked. Then she gave a little smile. "Oh. Yes. Guys."

"'Yeah, not 'yes. Unless you're talking to a grown-up."

"Yeah."

"And it's 'Oh my God' or 'God, not 'gods. "

"Did I-?"

"Yeah. And no one ever has or ever will say, 'live in the mo. "

"Just wait."

"No. Never. Oh, and no paying guys for kisses. You don't need to. They should feel lucky to kiss you."

Sibby frowned. "Why are you being so nice to me and helping me? You don't even like me."

"Because I know what it's like to be far from home, alone, trying to fit in. And to never be able to tell anyone the truth about who you are."

After they'd been driving in silence for a few minutes, Sibby said, "Have you ever killed someone with your bare hands?"

Miranda looked at her in the rearview. "Not yet."

"Ha-ha."

Chapter Eight

"You're crazy," Sibby said as they walked in. Her eyes were pancake-size. "You said this would suck. This doesn't suck. This is fantastic."