She hoped so. She dried her hands on her shirt, shook her arms, tossing nerves like a wet dog sprays water, and tried again. The car shifted smoothly.

“See?” Judy patted her shoulder. “Keep it in first, go slow. After the turn up here, shift into second, then we’ll be on the highway. You’re doing great. I’ll be right here beside you the . . . whole . . .”—she yawned—“time.”

Joy peeked at her watch when she turned onto the highway. It was just after eleven. Their parents would be home at midnight. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she could hear the blood flow in her ears. They were pushing time, so she inched up her speed and concentrated on the road.

Twice an oncoming car passed. The first time she squinted against the glare, but Judy pointed at the solid white line on the right. “Look at the road there, not at the headlights.” She yawned again, murmuring, “You got this.” She then slowly slid sideways, lulled to sleep by the sway of the car and too much beer, her head coming to rest on Joy’s shoulder.

“Judy? Oh my God. Wake up.” Joy nudged her sister with her elbow.

Her sister grumbled.

“Wake up!”

No answer.

Now what?

There wasn’t a way to turn around, so she kept on driving. She eased around the turns, and only had to move over once to let a car pass. Around one hairpin she turned the wheel too sharply and Judy swayed to the other side, knocking her head against the glass.

“Sorry,” Joy muttered. She glanced at her sister to make sure she was okay, then looked back at the road.

An oncoming car came around the bend, driving directly at them and in their lane.

Headlights blinded her. Joy screamed and yanked the steering wheel. The teal Plymouth with the pristine whitewall tires plunged down the mountainside and Joy’s short life flashed before her eyes.

Joy later learned that they’d plunged seven hundred feet. Rescuers found her the following morning in remarkably good condition, considering what she’d endured. Nothing short of a miracle, CBS News in Los Angeles had reported. Aside from a horrible concussion and two cracked ribs, she survived. She’d been buckled in. Her sister wasn’t.

Daylight was breaking over the mountain ridge when Joy woke up with blood in her eyes. Judy’s head rested on Joy’s shoulder. Joy ached everywhere, especially her head. She fought hard to open her eyes. She touched her forehead and hissed. It hurt bad. She looked at her hand. Blood coated her fingertips. She whimpered at the sight of it.

“You’re awake?” Judy whispered. Judy had to repeat the question twice more before it registered to Joy that her sister was talking to her.