One Way by Norah McClintock

Chapter One
    I’m not going fast when I round the corner on my bike. In fact, it seems like I’m crawling along. But what happens next reminds me of the time my dad and I drove home in a rainstorm.
    The wind was vicious that night. It uprooted trees. The rain didn’t just fall, it hammered down at a forty-five-degree angle. My dad should have pulled over and waited for the storm to calm down. But we were ten minutes away from the house, and he was worried about the roof, which was in bad shape to begin with. Even if it had blown right off our house, there was nothing he could have done about it. Still, he was determined to get home as fast as possible.
    We came to the sharp turn in the road just around the corner from our house. I can still see my dad gripping the steering wheel like it was a life preserver and he was adrift on in the middle of the ocean. But it didn’t do any good, not with all that wind and rain and the deep puddles where the road surface was uneven. The next thing we knew, the car was skimming over the top of a huge puddle. The tires had no traction. My dad had no control. The car slid off the road, hit the ditch and rolled over. Altogether, the whole thing took ten seconds. But it felt like ten minutes.
    Even now, if I close my eyes, I can see it as if it’s a movie. I see the car going sideways instead of forward. I see my dad’s head turn, first to look where we’re going and then to look at me. There’s a look of terror on his face, and it scares me. Then I feel his side of the car drop and my side rise. As I watch, everything turns upside down and then right-side up again. The car slams onto the Ormistons’ front yard. I sit there, staring out into the dark night and the hammering rain, which is no match for my hammering heart. I test my legs, my arms, my neck. I’m in one piece. Nothing even hurts. I look at my dad. He’s okay too, but he’s as shaken up as I am.
    Well, what happens to me after I round the corner on my bike is a lot like what happened in the car that night. It isn’t raining, and there’s no wind. But a few seconds after I make my turn, everything kicks into slow motion.
    I make the corner, heading up on Brannigan so that I can park my bike and lock it up in front of the school. There’s no traffic, but there is a white delivery van parked halfway up the street, just this side of the school. I’m going to have to pass it on my way to lock up my bike.
    It’s halfway through lunch period, but it’s a cool day for early May, so there aren’t as many kids on the street as there would be if it was, say, a nice warm day. I see a knot of guys up the street on the other side of the school, their backs to me. I see Stoner across the street from school, holding his phone as far from his face as he can, doing one of his rants. I see a whole bunch of girls standing around talking about whatever girls talk about. I see Logan McCann coming down the school steps. He sees me and smirks. He always smirks when he sees me.
    A car passes me, headed south. The driver looks startled when he sees me coming his way. He points back over his shoulder like he’s trying to jab someone in the backseat, but there’s no one there. I just shrug. He gives me the finger, so I figure he’s one of those anti-bike maniacs who probably foams at the mouth whenever he’s stuck in traffic and a cyclist breezes past him. I glance over my shoulder to return the favor, but he’s already turned the corner. I’m just straightening up again when it happens.
    I hit something.
    I have no idea what it is. All I know is that my bike slams to such a sudden stop that my butt comes off the seat and my feet leave the pedals. But I continue to grip the handlebars because I have the crazy idea that if I just hang on, everything will be okay.
    I realize I’m wrong about that at the same time I realize I’m upside down. In fact, before