20
Charlie
Larkin smiles a little at how nervous I am at her driving. She’s cruising down the freeway toward an unknown destination, driving my car. It’s nothing short of beautiful outside. The terrain as we drive slopes gently but noticeably downward, though the density of the woods doesn’t diminish any.
I glower at the passing scenery, wishing like hell I hadn’t agreed to come with Larkin without any questions.
I glance in the backseat, checking on Sarah. “You okay?” I ask.
Sarah smacks her lips, delighted at the plastic baggie of green grapes that Larkin gave her. She nods enthusiastically.
“Relax,” Larkin says, touching my hand. “I am obeying the speed limit. I’m obeying every road sign. I’m being safe.”
So was Britta, I think, glancing at her. She wasn’t even on the highway.
B
