Chapter 19

“You’re late!” Saff snaps before Axel and I are even through the front door. “We’re gonna miss the previews.” She stands up from the kitchen stool. Her completed homework is stacked neatly in front of her.

“Sorry, Saff.” A twinge of guilt creeps in. “I owe you a latte.”

“Your hair is wet,” Saff says sharply. “And somehow I don’t think you were lounging in a hot tub.” She shakes her head at me, clearly disappointed, then grabs her keys, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Kids are in their room, and they’ve been quiet for a good twenty minutes, so hopefully they’re out for the night.” She texts rapidly, probably coordinating details with Fletcher. “Luke is spending the night at the hospital with Tee.”

“Okay.” I dump my stuff on the counter. “Have fun.” Maybe because tonight sucked so royally, I feel even worse about showing up late. I’m just as irresponsible as she thinks I am. “Sorry, again,” I call after her.

Once Saff clicks the door closed, Axel beelines for the freezer and grabs a bag of frozen peas to place on his head. He quickly shifts his attention to the fridge.

“Hungry?” I ask him, trying to shake off my mood. He’s practically drooling onto the floor.

“Starving.”

“Okay. I am too.” I’m considering tearing into leftover veggie lasagna and just picking off the mold. Everyone in our house tries to save leftovers, and Luke’s been distracted enough lately that he’s let his fridge-cleaning routine slide. “Wanna order pizza?”

The Minions must have not really been asleep, because as soon as Axel gets on the phone and says the word pepperoni, they creep out from their room and climb all over us with “I’m hungry too,” and “I just wike cheese, no pepperoni” and “Can we have quarters for the games?”

I do a visual check in with Axel, who’s still on the phone with Pizza Palace. “Let’s take them out!” I can film a few more videos of the Minions for Tee.

He covers the phone and whispers, “It’s nine-fifteen.”

“The night is young,” I protest, though I know it’s way past their bedtime. Maybe I can redeem this crappy night by cementing my status as the fun cousin.

Axel grumbles a bit, but eventually he tells the Pizza Palace clerk “pickup” instead of “delivery.”

The Minions smell like toothpaste and they’re wearing footie pajamas. They’re too little to be self-conscious about leaving the house in pjs, though. They run, squealing, to slip on their crocs and climb into Gertrude.

I buckle both girls into their car seats, catching a whiff of their sweet smell. Saff must’ve given baths tonight too. They both smell like lilac gardens and baby soap. Axel straps on his seat belt, unusually quiet. Maybe he’s not too thrilled about being roped into this whole babysitting routine.

I’m backing out of the driveway when one of the Minions screams.

“What? What?” I hit the brakes and twist all around. I didn’t hit a dog or a squirrel, did I? I would’ve felt something, a bump or a thump or something like that.

“You forgot your seat behwt!” Missy screeches.

I almost laugh. They take everything so seriously. If they see someone with a cigarette, they run away wailing, as if the secondhand smoke will hunt them down to poison their lungs.

“Oh, silly me.” I click right in. “There. I’m safe now.”

“Impressionable young kids,” I explain to Axel, who’s giving me the funniest look. “I don’t want to set a bad example.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “You are a trip, Cayenne.”

“I’m okay with that. At least I’m not a bore.” I drive more slowly than usual, aware of the Minions in the back seat, chattering with as much excitement as if I’m taking them to Disneyland. Yep, I definitely win the award for the Fun Cousin.

✱✱✱

An hour, one large pizza, countless refillable sodas, a series of phone-filmed videos, and a mind-numbing quantity of quarter arcade games later, we strap the Minions back into their seats to head home.

“I can drive if you want,” Axel offers.

“Sure.” I toss him the keys, slip into the passenger seat, and cue up some music. “We can car dance.”

Axel pulls out of the lot, shaking his head at my silliness, but I’m too hyped up on fountain soda sugar and caffeine to care. I bop my head to the beat, leaning back and belting the words out loud. I peek back at the Minions, who are doing their best to imitate me, but sleep is pulling at their eyelids, slowing each blink and waterlogging their movements. I capture this on video before I say, “It’s okay if you fall asleep, girls. It’s pretty late.” Apparently that’s all the permission they need, because I swear they’re out before I even turn back around.

I tap my fingers on the windowsill, drumming out the beat, but it’s been a long day, and a yawn creeps up on me. “How can I be both pumped and drained at the same time? My body wants to sleep and my brain wants to party.”

Just then, some jerk in a red convertible cuts Axel off. “Asshole!” he snaps. I check to see if the Minions heard that. The last thing I need is them jabbering curse words to Luke. He’ll never let me babysit again. I’ll go from Fun Cousin to Bad Influence Cousin in a flash. But no, the girls are out, their heads flopping to the side in a way that looks painful. Little kids must have necks made of rubber.

Axel floors it, veering to the right and edging past the red convertible. “Stop it, Axel,” I scold. I love the guy, but does he really have to go neck-to-neck with this loser? I twist backwards to get a better view of the Minions. They’re still out cold, their little heads bouncing up and down with the movement of the car, like Bobble Head dolls. It’s comical.

Bam! The sound of crunching metal, the thrust of Axel’s car scraping and rebounding off other surfaces. My head whipping to the side, slamming back toward my chest, and my whole body smashing against the dashboard. We must be spinning, because the world blurs around me, and I lose my up and down, my left and right. I hit the inside of one of the doors with my shoulder, my ankle crunches like an accordion . . . and reality starts to melt away.

Am I dying? Darkness creeps into my line of vision, rapidly inching toward the center, but even as my vision goes, I can hear the Minions wailing. I try to hold on for them, I really do, but my reality slips away. I sense Lorelei’s presence, watching over me. Lurking. Hanging her head and wringing her hands, in mock sorrow, as if she hasn’t been hungering for this moment. The game is over, she whispers.

Hanging there in the empty space are two thoughts.

One: “The Minions! Are they okay? I promised Tee I’d take care of them.”

Two: “I’m not ready to die.”