The junkyard shadows no longer look like mystical creatures. They look like junk, rusted and forgotten. Wish I were one of them. My stomach clenches in a fist of pain. I try to blame it on the cheeseburger but know it’s plain old fear. Helping Miranda get evidence on King, maybe needing to talk to a few cops, that was one thing. But her new plan—exposing ourselves to anyone on the planet with an Internet connection? Insanity. Brilliant. Desperate. Brave. After Miranda broadcasts her suicide countdown, they’ll lock her away in some psych ward, dope her with drugs, give her shock treatment, who knows what? I crane my neck, searching out the stars above, and zip up my dad’s jacket, a thin barricade against the night chill. In a way, she’s risking far more than I am. After tonight, our lives will never be the same. Mom and Janey are safe, I tell myself.
