“Pull over. Pull over. Pull over.” Nikki did as she was told, and Nell dashed from the car into the long grass in the drainage ditch and upchucked her breakfast. Nikki sat on the hood and waited for Nell to finish. When Nell began to stagger back in her direction, Nikki fished in the glove compartment and pulled out the pack of wet wipes and the flask of vodka. The car had come to her that way, and Nikki had seen no reason to discontinue stocking Val’s emergency kit. Nell wiped her face and socked back a long gulp of vodka. “That girl was really dead.” “Yes.” “How can you be so calm about it?” demanded Nell, her fist crumpling the wet wipes. “Well, as you used to say, crying won’t fix the situation.” Nell gaped at her. “That’s not what—I didn’t mean it about things like this.” Nikki shrugged. “It’s still true.” “No, no it’s not. That girl—someone killed that girl. Someone snuffed out her life like it was nothing. You’re supposed to get upset about things like that, Nikki!”
