The rain started while Ben and I were in the ice cream shop. A cold, slanted rain. The kind that kept most people inside.

“It’s yucky outside, huh?” I asked Ben, who was busy shoving his gigantic ice cream cone in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said around a mouthful of ice cream.

I leaned forward in the driver’s seat and turned the radio down.

Yeah, like that’s gonna help me see through the rain better.

I couldn’t see past my front bumper, and I could barely see that far. I was almost right up the butt of the car in front of me before I saw its red brake lights. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. The car jerked to a stop. I really wished I’d taken my own car instead of my mom’s. I knew the feel of my car. Hers was all weird and too fancy with its talking GPS and back-up monitor. It freaked me out wondering who was watching me through all those gadgets.

“Whoops.” I heard from the backseat.

“Whoops? Whoops what?”

“Some of my ice cream dripped on the seat when you stopped.”

“It’s okay. We’ll wash it when we get home.” I had bigger problems than ice cream drips.

“Are you sure? Because I can pick it up.”

I turned and looked over the seat. “Ben! Pick it up!” A whole scoop of strawberry ice cream was melting on the seat next to him.

“Okay.” He grabbed the ball of melting goo and sat there, pink liquid dripping through his fingers. “Now what?”

“Ugh, throw it out the window.” I pushed the button to let the window down, and Ben tossed the ball of ice cream outside. The smell of wet cement and sewer filled the car.

Ben wrinkled his freckled-covered nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Smells like the sewer is backed up from the rain.”

“What do I do now, Milayna?”

“About what?”

“My hand,” he answered.

I turned, looked over my seat, and rolled my eyes. I’d already forgotten about the ice-cream fiasco. His hand was covered with sticky, pink ice cream. “Ben…” I sighed. He started to wipe his hand down his shirt. “No, no, don’t do that. Here, stick your hand outside the window and let the rain wash it off.”

Ben shrugged and stuck his hand out the window, eating what was left of his ice cream with his other one.

Someone beat on the window, and I jumped. “Get your hand back, Ben.” I rolled up Ben’s window and rolled mine down just enough to hear what the person was saying. “The bridge is closed up ahead. You’ll have to turn around,” the man yelled to be heard over the rain and wind.

Great.

I slowly backed up and made a U-turn. Driving through the downpour to the next street, I turned onto it. If that bridge was closed, Ben and I were stuck. There wasn’t another way to get to our house from where we were without driving miles out of our way.

I drove slowly down the road. No one stopped me as I inched closer and closer to the bridge. I just had to make it over and Ben and I would be almost home. We could get out of the miserable weather.

I should have known better.

As soon as I heard the crack, I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I’d driven us downriver. If the bridge were washed out upriver, then of course the debris and water would be headed right toward us. When I heard it slam into the upriver bridge, I flinched. I tried to back up, but a line of cars was behind me. There were no cars in front of me. I quickly looked to my right. The debris hadn’t made it beyond the bridge yet. I decided to floor it and get across the small bridge before it did. We were already on the bridge anyway and the only way off was forward—so I pushed the gas pedal to the floor and the car jerked forward. For a second, the tires skipped against the wet pavement, but then grabbed and the car jolted forward. I concentrated too hard on keeping all four tires on the bridge that I didn’t notice my second mistake until we’d made it a little more than halfway across.

Water travels much faster than one would think. And it was coming straight for us.

There was nothing I could do but watch. Even if I could have gotten Ben and me out of the car, we’d have gotten caught by the water before we got across the bridge. And my demi-angel telekinesis power only worked on solid matter. I couldn’t move water. So I stared in horror as the water and debris rushed toward us. I continued driving, trying to outrun it, but it hit the bridge and moved it at least five feet to the left of the exit ramp.

I screamed. Ben started to cry. Water rushed under the car, lifting and moving it to the side. The side of the car hit the guardrail.

“Ben! Unbuckle and climb up front with me.”

“‘Kay.”

I heard rustling and then saw his little body climb over and fall with a thud next to me on the front seat. His ice cream fell on the floorboard, splattering over the seat and my leg. I grabbed Ben and held him close to me.

“What’s happening, Milayna?” Ben cried.

“Just the rain. It’s okay.”

The car hit the guardrail harder as the river rose. It rocked back and forth, clanging against the metal and cement railing, and water seeped around my feet.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh shit. What do I do? Call for help. Yeah.

I reached into my jean’s pocket. My phone wasn’t there. I reached in the other pocket—empty. Frantic, I looked through the pockets in my jacket and purse. “Ben? Do you have my phone? Were you playing the games on it again?”

He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. “No.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to remember where I’d last had my cell. I remembered lying it down on the counter, but couldn’t remember picking it up again. Realizing that’s where it most likely was, I bit my lip to keep from crying.

I looked out at the raging water, full of branches and litter, and knew neither Ben nor I could swim to shore. I couldn’t swim, help Ben, and use my telekinesis to move debris away at the same time. The best we could do was signal for help.

“Okay, Ben, I need you to sit up for a minute. I have to do something.”

“But I’m scared!”

“I know. So am I, but you need to be strong just for a minute,” I said.

Please, please don’t throw a tantrum now. I don’t think I can handle it.

He sat up and scooted away. I ripped off my coat, leaving just one arm in an armhole. I rolled down the driver’s side window, the side next to the guardrail. I hoped the water was diverted around the car enough that I could stick my head outside.

Water came through, but not as much as if I’d opened the passenger’s side where the water was hitting the car dead on. I stuck my head and arm out the window, waving my coat while I screamed for help. I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear me over the rushing water, but I screamed as loudly as I could, waving my coat to get someone’s attention.

I saw a man on shore point in my direction before saying something to the woman standing next to him. I continued waving my coat in the air as I watched him pull out a cell phone and dial. He looked at me and nodded.

Help was coming.

It seemed like a year. We sat in the car and tried to wait patiently for whoever was going to help us. We sang songs. We played twenty questions and I-Spy, whatever I could do to keep Ben’s mind on something other than where we were.

Inch by inch, the car was filling with cold, dirty water. It was as high as the seat. Ben and I lifted our feet from the floor and sat with them curled under us. But as it came over the top, there was nowhere to go to get away from the frigid water.

“I’m cold.” Ben’s teeth chattered and his little body shivered. I pulled him closer to me.

“Yeah, me too.”

“And wet.”

“That, too.”

“I wish Chay was here,” Ben said.

My heart skipped a beat. I felt it. It was like a shockwave ran through my chest. It hurt, and it took me a few seconds to answer Ben. “Why?”

“Because he’d know what to do.”

Oh, and I don’t?

“I wish he were here, too,” I whispered.

Finally, I heard the whoosh-whoosh of helicopter blades. I stuck my head out the window and waved my arms to get the attention of the helicopter above.

A man in an orange jumpsuit lowered himself on a cable down to the car.

“How many?” he yelled.

“Two. My brother and me,” I answered.

“Give me the boy.”

“Come on, Ben. You’re going up in the helicopter.”

“No! What about you?”

“My turn is next. First you go.” I smiled and nodded to make it seem like a big adventure, like it was fun. He wasn’t falling for it. He started crying.

Oh, not now.

I hefted him over my lap. Lifting him up, I handed him to the man dangling from the rope outside. He grabbed Ben and strapped him in. Ben cried harder and reached out to me.

“Ben! Stop it!” I shouted over the noise of the water. “You have to go. I’ll come right after you.”

“When we lower the line back, I want you to slip the harness over your head and under your arms. Like this.” The man showed me how to hold on to the harness so I didn’t fall through the hole. “You’ll need to be sitting on the window so we can pull you out. Got it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded

He raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up to the people in the helicopter and the cable started rising, taking Benjamin with it. I felt a second of dread. I was all alone. In a car filling with water—more and more by the second. It was well over the seat. I sat on my knees and the water covered my legs.

I watched the cable rise to the helicopter as Ben was pulled to safety. I let out the breath I was holding. He was safe.

The line started to lower for me, and I panicked. Why didn’t the man come back and take me up like he did with Ben? I didn’t want to go by myself. What if I couldn’t hang on?

Stop it! Stop being a baby, Milayna.

I turned and stuck my head and body outside. As I sat on the window, my legs were still in the car. The black harness dangled above me. I reached out. As my arm curved around the harness, debris hit the bridge. I lost my grip on the harness and flew backward. My head hit the metal grating of the guardrail before I tumbled over the side and smacked my head a second time on the cement support. Pain exploded in my skull and lights flashed behind my eyelids. I sucked in a breath to cry out and inhaled water. The debris in the dirty water scraped my throat and nose as it filled them.

It burned. My head pounded. I flailed my arms and kicked my feet to get to the surface for air. My lungs felt as if they were going to explode if I didn’t inhale. They told me to, begged me to take a breath. My brain told me to wait. I’d only breathe in more water. Wait. Swim to the surface. My only thoughts were—Swim. Breathe. Swim.

My face broke through the surface and I inhaled deeply, coughing and gagging on the water I’d swallowed. I tried to take another breath, but I was coughing too hard. The waves of the roaring river pushed me under again. I fought my way to the surface, scraping my face on a large log. I dug my nails into it. Holding it with two hands, I pulled myself partway out of the water. Water splashed over me, into my mouth, up my nose. I gagged on the water I’d inhaled and the water filling my mouth with each wave that crashed over the log.

Ducking my face to the side to shield it from the water, I realized the fallen log I was hanging from was attached to the riverbank. I moved slowly along the log to the bank.

I was halfway to the riverbank when my arms gave out and I slipped. I lost my grip on the log when the water jerked one arm away and under the log. I tightened my hold with my other arm. My muscles shook and felt like someone had lit a match to them. They burned from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. But I kept my grip on that damn log.

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. First, I tried to reach up and circle my arms around the log. It was too big—I couldn’t get a good hold and both hands started to lose their grip. I let my arm fall from the back and bent it at the elbow. Then I pulled against the force of the water with as much strength as I had left, screaming with the effort. I pulled my arm back enough to move it in front of my body and shield it from the water so I could reach out and throw it over the log. Digging my fingers into the grooves in the bark, I lay my forehead against the wet wood, gathering the strength to make it to shore.

With each slow inch I moved toward shore, I dug my fingers into the bark of the tree, the rough ridges rubbing the tips of my fingers raw. When my feet hit the rocky bottom of the riverbed, I sobbed with relief, but I didn’t dare let go of the log until I was all the way to shore. I fell on my knees, coughing and retching to rid my lungs of the dirty river water.

I’d just begun to stand and make my way to the road when the bank gave way. I tried to push away from the crumbling mud and rocky shoreline before I was swept back into the river a second time, but my feet couldn’t find any leverage. I reached for something—anything—to grab onto as I slipped in the mud toward the rushing water. There was nothing.

I hit the water hard. It ran over me. It didn’t let up, just rolled over me in a constant barrage. I couldn’t catch my breath. My lungs burned. I flailed my arms, searching for something to grab onto. I found the log—at least, I thought it was the same one. I grabbed it and fought my way to the surface. My arms burned from battling the rushing water. It was brutal in its force. I kept my back to it and it pinned me painfully against the log, making it hard to take a breath. I could only breathe in short gasps.

“Grab the line,” I heard someone scream.

I looked around. The helicopter was lowering the line, but it was yards in front of me.

“Let go and grab the line.”

I shook my head. No, bring it to me.

Then I saw the electrical lines. The helicopter couldn’t drop the cable because of them. I had to let go of the log, let the water carry me to the line, and pray I could grab the harness, and had enough strength to hold on, before the water pulled me under.

I took a breath and let go. The water lifted me and hurled me forward. Raising my arm, I wrapped it around the harness. I held on as tightly as I could, but the water pulled and pushed. It was like it was alive and had one purpose—to kill me.

I tried to lift my body out of the water high enough to get my other arm through the harness, but didn’t have the strength.

I looked up and saw the man in the orange jumpsuit lowering himself toward me.

Thank you. Thank you.

He yelled something, pointing. I couldn’t hear over the noise of the water and the blood pumping behind my ears. But I followed the direction he was pointing. It was too late for me to get out of the way even if I’d had the strength.

The log I’d been holding on to had given way and was coming straight toward me. I looked up at the man and back at the log.

I tried to tap into my telekinesis, but I needed my hands free and they were busy trying to keep me above water.

I felt it hit me. I felt the pressure of the blow squeeze the air out of my chest. I felt the stab of pain in my head where one of the branches hammered into me. I felt it roll over me and push me underwater. I felt the water fill my mouth and nose.

And then I felt nothing at all.