Even when he was flying through the air at the mercies of gravity, he still felt a sense of control over many things—how the bike was angled for landing; how tight or loose his muscles were for impact; how he would react and steer once he hit the dirt on the other side.
He thought back to the past Monday. A mix of fear and anticipation of relief bubbled up in the back of his throat. He decided that any relief would have to come from talking to someone about what he’d seen. Why not Steph?
“Maybe,” Owen said. “I mean, I saw the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.”
Steph raised her eyebrows.
“But that may have been real,” he added quickly.
“What?” she asked with a sort of laugh. “No way.”
“Way.”
“Where?”
“Here. Outside of my house. In the driveway.”
“What was it doing?”
“I don’t know. Just si
