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The kid frowned at the Sat-nav. “s**t! It’s about forty miles.”
I stiffened for a second, terrified he’d change his mind about taking me. Instead, he stuck the car in gear, and although he mumbled about being late, having to use all his fuel, and something like ‘if Lauren hears about this, I’ll probably be dumped,’ he pulled off.
Snuggled inside the thin cotton, I kept my head down. The boy tried talking to me, mostly stuff like asking my name. I answered Marie. He tried to find out what had happened, but I shrugged. Once he’d accepted my unwillingness to talk, he asked if I liked music and put a CD in the stereo, singing along in a quiet murmur.
During the ride, the heat of my hip injury deepened until I could think of nothing else. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. When sleep at
