I shook my head casually, as if refusing a cup of hot chocolate. My teeth were still chattering, and it was hard to speak. “Could you just call Highway Patrol for me?”
“Sure.” He rested a hand on the rolled-down window. “But it’s going to be a while.” He nodded vaguely behind him. “They got their work cut out for them today.”
I looked back and nodded, too, but said nothing. We were like farmers agreeing on the weather. Rain hit hard against my chin. I pulled my hood tight again. The truck’s motor sighed and growled. When I breathed in, I tasted oil.
“You’re going to get pretty cold out here. Where you headed?”
“Just to that gas station.” I raised my arm, pointing, as if there were any other direction to go.
“Come on. Let me give you a lift. I’ll have you there in a couple of minutes.”
I looked up at him. He was clean-shaven, smiling, and not much older than I was. He did not look like a killer. It would be frustrating to be a nice man, I considered, to go through life trying to be helpful, only to have women wonder if you were out to kill them.
“You’re going to freeze,” he said. “And it’s not safe, walking by the highway.” He laughed in a way that showed he was, in fact, frustrated. He agreed with me. I was being dumb. I took a few careful steps toward the cab, and the door popped open. I had some trouble hoisting myself up—the step seemed to be made for someone with a much longer stride. But when I finally got up, there was a passenger seat with a seat belt. I felt the blast of a good heater, closed my door, and slid back into the seat with a sigh.
“Better?” He put the truck in gear and smiled, laugh lines branching out from the corner of the one eye that I could see. The cab smelled like onion rings, and a pair of black socks had been left to dry on the dash, but the heat felt good. A plastic sack stuffed with fast-food wrappers and empty paper cups swung from a hook just over my knees.
“Much better.” I was embarrassed by my earlier hesitation. I hoped to make up for it with gratitude. “Thank you,” I said. “Really. I appreciate it.” The cab was warm enough that I was already uncomfortable. I pulled my hood back and took off my hat.
He glanced at me, then back at the road. I could hear ice hitting the windshield, but he appeared unfazed, even as the truck picked up speed. He wore just jeans and a flannel shirt, as if the weather outside had nothing to do with him.
He nodded at my book bag. “You go to school?”
“I do.” I marveled at how high up we were. I had never been in a semi before. “KU.”
“Right on.” He snapped his fingers and made a gun with his finger and thumb. “Rock Chalk Jayhawk.”
“Rah rah,” I said, barely raising my arm.
“That’s in Lawrence?”
I nodded.
He gave me the look of thinking I was being dumb again. “That’s right up the road. Is that where you live? I’ll just take you there.”
I opened my mouth, but again, I could think of nothing. If he took me all the way into Lawrence, I could catch a bus to campus and probably still make it to lab. I could even go back to the dorm first. I could get some coffee and brush my teeth. We approached the sign for the gas station. He glanced at me and started to slow.
“Yes. Thank you. If you could take me to Lawrence, that would be great,” I said. “Thanks.” I put my balled-up hat to my mouth to stop myself from thanking him again. The cab was almost hot, but my teeth were still chattering. I felt strange, weirdly energized. I’d gotten hypothermia, maybe. Or I’d hit my head when the car wrecked, and I didn’t remember. Or I was just worried about Jimmy.
I looked at the driver. His face was blank, his blue eyes focused on the road.
“I just wrecked someone else’s car,” I said.
He gave me a quick, curious glance, and that was all I needed. I told him the whole story, speaking too quickly, breathing in the dry heat. I simply needed to tell someone what had happened. He was an objective stranger, and