“The steering wheel and column are custom. The previous owner did some extensive upgrades to install an airbag, and that’s the only reason I’m letting you drive it now. I have to take it back to the shop this week. The front passenger seat belt is jammed, and the back seat only has lap belts. Until then, no passengers.”

“What?” Joy and Judy complained in unison.

“No passengers. It’s not safe.”

“That’s BS!” Joy kicked the whitewall tire. How was she supposed to get to Taryn’s?

“Hey, watch the car,” Judy said.

“Joy, language!” her mom snapped.

Judy gave Joy’s shirtsleeve a little tug. “Sorry, sis.”

“You promised you’d drive me to Taryn’s.”

“What’s this?” her mom asked.

“Taryn invited me to watch a movie at her cabin.”

“Another night, kiddo.”

“But, Dad, I promised Taryn I’d be there,” she whined.

“Your father said no. And why are you even asking? Your chores aren’t done. The dishes are still in the sink and the trash hasn’t been emptied,” her mom noted, disappointed.

Ignoring her mom, she turned to Judy. “Can’t you drive Mom’s car?”

“No way. I’m taking this baby for a spin.”

“Taryn is expecting me.” And she wanted to see Kevin.

“There will be plenty of other nights this summer you can go to Taryn’s, but not tonight,” her dad said with finality.

“This is such bullshit!”

“Enough! You’re grounded.” Her dad pointed a finger at her.

She lightly punched the car and spun away. “I hate you. I hate you all.”

“I get so tired of her attitude,” Joy overheard her mom complain as she stomped back to the house.

Her dad sighed, weary. “She’ll grow out of it.”

Joy slammed the front door.

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 7

BEFORE

Joy

Flagstaff, Arizona

The waitress bused Joy’s plate and left the check. With a slight tremor in her fingers, Joy reached into her purse for her wallet. She also took out Judy’s bucket list and a pencil and unfolded the paper on the table, smoothing the creases. The memory of that last day with her sister always left her rattled. But she’d accomplished an item on the list. That should count for something.

Feeling a smidge better, she drew a line through make a new friend, then paused, pencil tip hovering above the fresh marking.

Were she and Dylan really friends?

Joy looked outside. The martini glass flashed. On-off-on-off. She loved live music, had ever since Taryn invited her to see Matchbox Twenty a few months after Judy passed. Music had always made her happy, but after Judy died it became an escape. She could plug in and feel the beat rather than remorse. She could blast her tunes and scream and shout, and she wouldn’t feel depressed.