Ball Peen Hammer Read Free

the world.”
    “Anything for you, lil sissy—you know that. But, hey, honestly, now that you’re driving here, I gotta admit I’m worried about you making the drive all by yourself.”
    I scoff. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
    “Is there someone who could make the drive with you? If you can find someone to road trip it with you, I’ll buy them a one-way flight back to Seattle, on me.”
    “Oh my gosh, Banana. You’re so sweet. But I’ll be fine.”
    “Seriously. Is there anyone you could ask? I’d feel a lot better about it if you weren’t alone.”
    I twist my mouth, considering potential co-pilots, but I can’t think of anyone. “Washington schools have already started up again,” I say. “Everyone I know started classes last week.”
    “Well, how about Mom, then?”
    “No, she’s visiting her new boyfriend in Louisville next week.”
    “Mom’s got a new boyfriend in Louisville?”
    “Smith.”
    “ Smith ? Is that his first or last name?”
    “First name, I think. Actually, I’m not sure. That’s all she’s ever called him: Smith.”
    “Whatever happened to that guy Brook?”
    “Brooks. With an ‘s.’ He’s kaput.”
    “I thought Brooks was supposed to be Mom’s ‘Prince Charming’?”
    “Yeah, well, it turns out Prince Charming has gambling and porn addictions.”
    “Next, please!” Hannah shouts, and we both laugh—but it’s “humor borne of pain,” as Hannah’s boyfriend Henn is fond of saying.
    “If you wanna worry about someone taking a trip alone, worry about Mom,” I say. “She’s meeting this Smith guy in person for the first time after a solid month of ‘I love you’ emails and phone calls.”
    “Love-at-first email again?” Hannah asks.
    “Of course.”
    “We ought to teach Mom about this newfangled thing called FaceTime,” Hannah says. “I think it’d change her life.” She lets out a long sigh. “Well, hopefully, this Smith guy is The One.”
    “Fingers crossed,” I say.
    “If not, she’ll figure it out,” Hannah says. “Mom’s a big girl.”
    “Well, so am I,” I say. “You don’t have to worry about me driving alone.”
    “No, you’re not a big girl. You’re my sweet little Madelyn the Badelyn and you always will be. Hey, why don’t I fly up there and drive down with you? We can play license-plate bingo like we used to do when we were kids.”
    “Hann, you were just telling me yesterday how swamped you are at work. You can’t take time off from a brand new job to babysit me. You’re still trying to make everyone at your new job love you, remember?”
    Hannah exhales a long breath, wordlessly confirming just how much she’s yearning to succeed at this new PR job of hers. Working in the publicity department of a major movie studio is my sister’s dream job, after all, and now she’s living her dream.
    “If I feel even remotely drowsy while driving,” I assure her, “I’ll stop at the first motel I come across. In fact, right after we hang up, I’ll go online and chart out my pit stops. And I’ll put my phone in the glove box whenever I’m driving, just like I always do. There’ll be no distractions.”
    “I’m not only worried about the driving part, I’m worried you’ll be a twenty-one-year-old woman traveling alone for twelve hundred miles. Who knows what sicko might see you at a gas station and attack you?”
    “Jeez, Hannah.”
    “Just saying. You can never be too careful.”
    “I know, but... jeez.”
    Hannah exhales again, clearly ill at ease.
    This is nothing new, of course. My sweet sister’s always been my fierce protector, ever since we were little, and that protectiveness only intensified three years ago when the car I was riding in as a passenger was T-boned at an intersection. I got carted away from the wreckage with a broken collarbone and wrist, a severe concussion, a collapsed lung, and some bone-deep bruises to my body, heart, and soul; but both drivers—my boyfriend, Justin, and a father of