Chapter 4
INGENIUS OR ICARUS?
Maybe if Miss Spring worked harder for her score, she’d be in medical school somewhere tropical and lovely, not waitlisted and forced into a school colder and poorer than even her small town in yeehaw land.
THANATOS
Rrraaaugh. RrrrAAugh. RrrAAAUghghAuyGHHHH!!
“Damn it, you piece of shit! Work!” I scream at my car.
She roars louder, unperturbed.
She can’t hear me. She’s a car.
My nerves feel like they’re lit on fire and then charred to a crisp, so burned out I’m living off sparks of ire and spite.
RRAAUGH! RRAAAAAUGH!! My car shrieks.
The engine rattles the chassis, sending me vibrating like a cautery needle hitting flame.
I release my foot from the gas, choking down panic.
Scratches mar my car. The underbody sags as my weight settles into it. Even the windshield is grimy and fingerprinted, but still, I hold onto hope despite the obvious.
Hell, I should have clung harder to hope and prayer when I was too cheap to pay for gated parking in the slums of Rusty’s inner city, and ended up in this mess.
I swallow down bile, forcing myself to breathe.
Who can I call at this hour? Hyacinth is fast asleep this early, when the only guidance from God is the waxing moon. I can’t call Esther; I’m not disturbing a pregnant woman’s sleep.
An idea flashes into my head.
No. Absolutely not. I cannot call him. Not after he humiliated me in front of all my friends.
I slam my foot back on the pedal.
RAAAGH. RAAUUUFJGH!
I scramble for my phone, frantically typing, why is my car screaming at me? and get a bunch of mechanic terms that look like hieroglyphics.
Dammit, I cannot be late again. I’m on thin ice already.
I consider calling my parents, but what are they going to do? There are multiple hours between us; any help would take too long to get here.
My fingers press into my brows, fighting off the incoming migraine.
Maybe I should just walk through the beat-down city streets of Rusty and hope not to be assaulted along the way. It’s been an entire year since a medical student was strangled here in the park, right? Hopefully, that guy is long gone.
I can’t take the bus, either, because I don’t have a bus pass, and the buses here are notoriously unreliable.
Should I risk it with a rideshare?
No, I still remember the girl who was stabbed to death on my undergrad campus in a late-night pickup.
My shoulders slump. I can’t do this.
I need to come up with some ingenius plan to fix this.
Surrendering in a way that pains me, I text my nemesis.
Percy
Can I call you?
He picks up in seconds.
“Thought you would lose my number by now,” he grunts. I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed or this is his usual gritty morning voice. The SICU beeps in the background, blurry chirps mingling with the twine of hospital staff.
“I wish I did,” I respond, swallowing hard. “I need your help with something. Are you busy?”
“Always. What is it?”
I hit the gas, letting the roar fill my car. “Why does my car sound like that?”
He’s silent for a minute.
“Do it again,” he prompts.
It screams its haunted garble.
And then, he laughs, an ear-splitting sound that nearly makes me drop my phone. I can practically see him doubled over.
“Why are you laughing?” I demand.
“Hit the gas.”
I slam my foot against the pedal.
Rrraaaugh. Rrrraugh. RRAAUGH! RRAAAAAUGH!!
“I’m going to kill you,” I threaten.
My body feels hot, stress morphing to anger.
“Not before your car kills you!”
“I’m glad I add so much joy to your day,” I hiss. If I felt ill before, it’s gone now. I’m enraged, my blood curdling. How dare he laugh at me in these conditions—
“Percy, my little surgeon,” he says between gasps, “how do you not know what’s happening in your car right now? Do you not keep up with the news?”
I cradle my knees to my chest, fists clenching around the phone. “I’ve been a little preoccupied being ostracized by my classmates, actually.”
“Percy,” he chides, calming down. “Look under your car. Someone stole your catalytic converter.”
“What?!”
I hop under my car and look under, and sure enough, it’s sliced open on the ventral side. There’s a massive hole where the belly should be.
“KANE!” I scream. “What am I supposed to do now? Someone stole my catalytic converter!”
The cackles resume.
“Kane, it’s 4 in the morning! Are repair shops even open right now?”
He pauses his laughing, slowing to a chuckle. I wonder if that’s as close as he’s capable to showing sympathy.
I’m staring at the remains of my car when he continues, “You can’t just repair this, sweetheart. With the price of catalytic converters, you’ll need a whole new car.”
I drop to my knees in the gravel, pebbles biting into my skin. This can’t be happening. I can’t afford a new car right now. I knew living in a cheap apartment would be risky, but this risky?
My breaths come too fast, hyperventilating. My catalytic converter!? I don’t even know what one of those things is!
It’s dark, and I’m alone, sitting in the carved-out husk of my car, nauseated by the flickering streetlights. I don’t even have the sunrise to comfort me yet.
“Percy?”
I’m stranded, helplessly, for who knows how long, contemplating all the horrible life decisions I’ve made to end up in this place, when I hear, “Percy, I’ll call someone and send you a ride. Just send me your address.”
“Life isn’t real, Kane,” I whine. “Why my car?”
“Because you live in Rusty. Hang on. My patients are circling the drain, but I’ll handle this.”
“What, do you have a butler or something?”
He chuckles again. “Yes, but he’s busy. I have something much better. She’ll be there soon.”
She?
Wait, he’s not seeing another girl already, is he?
I’m going to throw up.
What were the terms of the agreement again? Did we agree not to date around, or didn’t we?
It’s been too long, and I can barely remember…
He hangs up.
Ten minutes later, a shiny new A-Wagon pulls up to my gravelly, pothole-filled parking lot, with a sour, jaded driver giving me the death glare over the hood.
I grin with relief. I can handle this one. Even if she’s pissed at me right now. I’d be glaring too if I had to wake up this early to give a near-stranger a ride.
Jade rolls down the window, emerald eyes narrowing. “You owe me.”
“Thanks,” I say, climbing in, careful not to open the expensive-looking car door too fast. I feel like I’m the last-minute add-on to a sleepover, careful not to damage the rich kid’s shiny new toy.
Jade leans across the dashboard, staring at the crumbling brick and clunky A.C. units hanging out of my apartment complex. “No wonder you look like shit all the time. You match your environment.”
“Thanks,” I say airily, gingerly guiding my backpack over my legs.
She huffs out a breath. “Your apartment complex smells like weed, too.”
“Welcome to Rusty,” I say, closing the door with a gentle click. “I assume you live in a suburb?”
“I live where catalytic converters aren’t stolen,” she says.
She’s staring at me in her side seat like my poverty is going to taint the leather. I suppose in her eyes, it does.
When she’s being moody, she’s just like her brother. Same determined glint in her eye.
She also, I notice wryly, is wearing eyeliner that looks suspiciously like mine. And she gave herself bangs.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as the tortured poets say.
Maybe she’s secretly more of a fan of me than she admits.
She looks adorable.
“Stop looking like you’re growing a fondness for me,” she says, yanking the car into reverse. “I did not want to do you a favor this morning.”
“I know,” I respond with a wink. “Must be scary, knowing your inheritance is about to be split three ways.”
She gags, then shoots me a look like she can’t tell whether I just made a joke or a threat.
Then she hits the gas so hard I lurch backward, head slamming into the headrest.
“Ow,” I moan, rubbing the whiplash out of my neck as she resumes her morning scowl to drive. She flips on the speakers, and a study podcast blasts through the speakers.
Welcome back, he says. Today, we will be going over the high yield of Family Medicine…
I perk up. “Oh, I loved podcasts when I was studying for my shelves—”
“Don’t speak to me,” she orders, holding up a hand. “I am listening.”
I push down my surge of irritation. Yeah, she’s definitely Kane’s sister.
The audio drones on about pediatric milestones while Jade drives.
Her car rattles over the railroad tracks as we go, the rusted metal making it shudder.
On either side of the road, boarded-up windows cover former Victorian homes, their spires and gables sagging with neglect.
Even as we creep closer to the city, there’s not a skyscraper in sight, the only ‘tall’ building being the hospital itself.
But despite the potholes of a dying city, Jade is a surprisingly steady driver. Two green matchas sit in the cup holders, but they never spill, not even splash.
“That’s not for you,” she warns.
“I didn’t think it was,” I offer. “But I’m impressed with your driving ability.”
She gives me an arch look. “Did you think I would be incompetent?”
“No,” I exhale. Was I this difficult when I was younger? Maybe I owe my mother an apology. “I was just noticing how the drink never spills. I hit curbs when I first started driving.”
“I enjoy driving race cars,” Jade says, like that’s a totally normal hobby to have. “The average car is nothing.” She pats the hood with love. “This is Toni.”
“Toni is a gorgeous car,” I offer, hoping that saying something nice will ease whatever vitriol Jade has toward me. She is my fake boyfriend’s sister, after all.
“Toni’s been sullied by your presence,” she says.
I hold back my retort, looking out the window, counting the homeless as we pass by. If someone’s missing, they’ll almost invariably end up in the hospital soon.
The rambling audio suddenly cuts off, and her phone’s messages connect to the car.
The Husks Have Eyes
Luke
where u @ Jade
Levi
ur man waiting
he’s annoying all of us rn
save us
“You’re seeing someone?” I ask excitedly. Jade groans.