The narrow lane is exceptionally hilly. Up and down, up and down, and Seth must slow almost to a crawl in order to avoid bottoming out the long car. He shakes his head. “Gas on this road?”
“What choice do we have?” I say. “Unless you want to push us all the way to Langdon.”
“Why didn’t you fill up before you planned this little adventure?” he asks.
I resent his accusatory tone. “I didn’t plan it. It was spontaneous. The moment just arose.” So quickly too. I am just now taking in how each step seemed to spawn the next.
“It was amazing how we all came together, wasn’t it? Perfect timing!” Mira says cheerfully.
“A coincidence, maybe?” I say.
Aidan groans.
“My nineteen,” I remind him. “Any of you ever had Mr. Nestor?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Nestor. The calculus teacher.”
“At Hedgebrook? No. Crawford teaches calc,” Aidan says.
“He’s a visiting teacher. I met him in the garden this morning, and he asked me what I wanted, so I—”
“Why would he ask something strange like that?”
“What the hell is a visiting teacher?”
“Seth! Where did you learn that language?”
“You need to get out more, Mira. Hell is not ‘language.’”
“Maybe that’s his secret.”
“Which you still need to tell us.”
“You better not let Mrs. Wicket hear you talking—”
“Excuse me?” I say, in a voice loud enough to drown them all out. “May I finish?”
They quiet and Mira leans forward, her lips pursed in concentration.
“Regardless of why he asked it, he did. And I told him all I wanted was one fair day. One squared-away, good-guys-win, the-world-adds-up sort of day. Do you think there is such a thing?”
Aidan grunts. “A fair day? Is this a trick question? Because—”
“I think there could be,” Mira says. She breathes deeply, looking up into the sky like it holds all the fairness in the world. “Yes. Definitely.”
Seth doesn’t respond.
“And you?” I prompt.
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. He looks at me and then looks back at the road. The ever-smooth Seth is stumbling with his reply. I find it curious, much more interesting than anything he might actually say. “I don’t know if there could be, but—”
“Stop!” Mira and I scream at the same time. Seth slams on the brakes, and the car screeches to a halt, rocking back and forth. We stare at the middle of the road. A tiny lamb, as white and fluffy as a marshmallow, stands in the dip of the road, his legs spread wide in an awkward stance. He doesn’t move.
“What the—”
Our four heads immediately pivot, searching for more sheep on the hillsides.