Matt & Zoe Read Free Page B

You okay?”
    I groan. Then I say, “Tyler, I just got into an accident. Tell them I can’t make it today.”
    “You all right? Oh, man—”
    “I’m fine,” I say. I need to get him off the phone. I flip it shut and gingerly reach for the door handle.
    The door opens. I step out, still disoriented. The front of my car is crumpled in, but the minivan doesn’t appear to have sustained any damage. Sitting behind the wheel is a young mother with bleach blonde hair and wide blue eyes.
    She opens the door and slips out of her seat. She’s wearing a UMASS t-shirt, and as I stand up next to my car, I revise her age downward. She’s not a mother, she’s a college kid driving her mother’s van. I don’t know if her almost white hair is bleached or naturally blonde, but it’s cut longer in the front than the back. Her t-shirt is a little too tight. Not that I’m complaining.
    “Are you all right, sir?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine, are you?” Sir? Do I look like a sir? I look down at the steaming front end of my car. The white cloud is not encouraging.
    “Looks like you ruptured the radiator. You shouldn’t talk on the phone while driving.”
    “Pot, meet kettle. You hit me, kid.”
    “First, I’m not a kid. And second, I had the right of way. I hit you because you raced out into the rotary without looking.”
    Just what I need. A twenty-year-old college sophomore patronizing me about my driving. “Lady, I’ve never had an accident in my life. How fast were you going? There’s no way I pulled out too fast for you to stop.”
    She shakes her head, a grim look on her face. I’d have thought she was completely emotionless—her facial expression is remote—but her hands are shaking. “We’ll let the police do their report. I’m just grateful neither of us was hurt. You got insurance information?”
    I shake my head in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah, let me get my insurance card. Unbelievable.” I lean into the car to open the glove box. Traffic is moving again, inching around us. Her van is partially obstructing traffic. I hear sirens in the distance. Amherst Police, probably. Christ. This is going to end up costing me if the ticket gets blamed on me. Meanwhile, some over-privileged college kid walks away from the accident with no repercussions at all.
    I retrieve my insurance card and stand back up. “Here. And you’ve got yours?” I dig out my driver’s license and hand both to her.
    She hands me back an expired driver’s license. Not recently expired either, but expired more than a year ago.
    Who lets their license expire for more than a year?
    I write down the insurance information and her license number. The address is in South Hadley, right around the corner from the school. That gives me pause, but not long enough to make me shut up.
    The insurance card, of course, is in her parents’ names.
    “Out for a spin in your mom’s van, huh? With an invalid license? That’s grown up, about what I’d expect from a college kid.” I’m working myself up into a near rage.
    She looks at me with a vicious expression and says, “You’re an asshole.”
    “Well, that’s mature, too,” I mutter. I’m frustrated and stressed. The meeting with the school board is happening right now and I’m supposed to be representing the union. And I can’t if I’m here dealing with some twenty-something-year-old who was probably texting and didn’t see me as I entered the traffic circle.
    The police pull up. Not one, but two Amherst Police sports-utility-vehicles, blue lights flashing. One comes to a stop on the grass behind me and the other parks behind the college girl’s van. I go back to writing down her information.
    Zoe Welch. College Street, South Hadley. She's 24 years old--older than I thought. 413-555-1200.
    Where do I know that name from? Welch? I’ve only been in South Hadley for two years—it’s a small town, but not so small that everyone knows everyone. Whatever, it doesn’t matter where or if I know her