“Incoming.” She nods in the direction of the school doors.

Ms. Warren exits, fiddling with her bag as she makes her way to her car, and we remain hidden. I hold my breath, legs beginning to ache from crouching. Zoe peers through the window of the truck, watching as Ms. Warren reaches her vehicle and places a hand on the door handle.

At the last second before getting in, the woman pauses, glancing in our direction, and Zoe frantically ducks down again as we share a panicked look. For a few moments, everything is still, until we hear the sound of Ms. Warren’s car start up and pull out of the parking lot.

Zoe exhales, leaning against me, and I finally release the laughter I’ve been holding in. “Close call,” she quips, grinning, before standing and reaching for my hand.

We arrive at a sleek, silver car that looks like it costs more than most of the other ones in this parking lot combined. Zoe unlocks it, and the car makes a melodic beeping sound as she slides inside, gesturing for me to do the same. I sit down on the plush leather seat, feeling the material beneath my fingers. Definitely expensive.

She turns the key in the ignition, blond hair shining over her shoulder, and the engine hums to life, a pop song floating from the speakers. It’s strikingly familiar, conjuring images of driving in the summertime with the windows down, Zoe in the driver’s seat, laughter echoing between the lyrics, and I can’t tell if they’re real or fake.

“All right, let’s get the hell out of here,” she announces after we buckle our seat belts.

Reaching down, she shifts gears, glances behind her, and prepares to back out. But when she presses the gas, the car lurches forward until she slams on the brakes, causing the two of us to jerk, straining against our seat belts.

“Shit,” she hisses after we’ve come to a stop, inches from the fence surrounding the lot.

My heart thunders, black creeping around the edges of my vision as my head throbs with phantom pain. I blink rapidly until the cracks in the windshield disappear and the branches recede into the forest.

Not real.

Zoe is staring at the fence, wide eyed. My hand shakes as I reach out to touch her arm gently, wanting something to ground me in reality. Her muscles are rigid. “Are you okay?” I ask. “That was just an accident.”

She swallows, letting out a breathy laugh. “Sorry.” She runs a hand over her skirt, looking at me apologetically. “New car. Let me try that again.”