Before I Fall

DOES THIS STRAITJACKET MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?
DOES THIS STRAITJACKET MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?
When Normani gets into the car she leans forward to grab her coffee, and the smell of her
perfume—raspberry body spray she still buys religiously from the Body Shop in the mall, even
though it stopped being cool in seventh grade—is so real and sharp and familiar I have to close my
eyes, overwhelmed.
Bad idea. With my eyes shut I see the beautiful warm lights of Lauren's house receding in the
rearview mirror and the sleek black trees crowding on either side of us like skeletons. I smell
burning. I hear Dinah yelling and feel my stomach bottom out as the car lurches to one side, tires
squealing—
"Shit.”
I snap my eyes open as Dinah swerves to avoid a squirrel. She chucks her cigarette out the
window and the smell of smoke is strangely double: I’m not sure whether I’m smelling it or
remembering it or both.
"You really are the worst driver.” Mani giggles.
"Be careful, please,” I mutter. I’m clutching the sides of my seat without meaning to.
"Don’t worry.” Dinah leans over and pats my knee. “I won’t let my best friend die a virgin.”
I'm desperate to spill everything to Dinah and Mani at that moment, to ask them what’s
happening to me—to us—but I can’t think of any way to say it.
We were in a car accident after a party that hasn’t happened yet.
I thought I died yesterday. I thought I died tonight.
Mani must think I’m quiet because I’m worried about Austin. She loops her arms around the
back of seat and leans forward.
"Don’t worry, Mila. You’ll be fine. It’s just like riding a bike,” Mani says.
I try to force a smile, but I can barely focus. It seems like a long time ago that I went to bed
imagining being side-by-side with Austin, imagining the feel of his cool, dry hands. Thinking
about him makes me ache, and my throat threatens to close up. I suddenly can’t wait to see him,
can’t wait to see his crooked smile and his Yankees hat and even his dirty fleece that always smells
a little bit like boy sweat, even after his mom makes him wash it.
"It’s like riding a horse,” Dinah corrects Mani. “You’ll be a blue-ribbon champion in no time,
Chancho.”
"I always forget you used to ride horses.” Normani flips open the lid of her coffee and blows
steam off the top.
"When I was, like, seven,” I say, before Dinah can turn this into a joke. I think if she starts