Valeria’s scuffed, white converses make muffled thuds as she walks across the gritty, black bus floors. She smiles and says thank you to the bus driver as she gently grips the handrail that guides her off the bus. The blowing breeze chills Valeria’s face, and then the sun warms it back up. Her heart-shaped sunglasses block out any blinding rays the sun sends towards her eyes. The warm, fuzzy yellow sweater she wears stops the light breeze from chilling her.

​

She walks across the sidewalk and through the parking lot to her 2015 GMC Sierra 1500. She pulls a pair of keys from the pocket of her jeans. The keys jingle merrily as she unlocks the truck. She climbs inside. Valeria takes off her sunglasses, folds them, and places them in one of the cupholders on the center console. Her backpack leaves her shoulder and finds its way into the passenger seat beside her. She places the keys in the ignition and turns them. The black and yellow smiley face accessory grins mockingly from where it dangles on her keychain. The GMC Sierra backs out of the parking space, exits the parking lot, and heads towards the highway.

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At 5:00 in the evening, the sky hasn’t started to grow dark, but the sun will sink down in about an hour. Valeria had to meet with her chemistry professor, and that held her up by thirty minutes. With the accumulating number of absences and the missing assignments, her chances of passing chemistry have gone way down. Her chemistry professor had suggested she drop the class and try taking it at a time when she was more ready. The thing was, she hadn’t felt ready to take chemistry this semester and probably wouldn’t feel ready to take it next semester. Or any semester ever. At least she has B’s in her other classes. Maybe she could pull through chemistry with a C. Probably not, though.

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Valeria lets one hand tug gently at the steering wheel as she drives. Her other arm lays motionless on the armrest console. The radio fills the air with the energetic noise of pop music and the announcer’s hyped-up voice. Valeria’s back relaxes against the seat while her foot leans on the pedal. The smile on her face twists as she spots a huge line of traffic up ahead. The arm lying on the console reaches up to grab at the steering wheel. Valeria sits up straight in her seat.

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“No,” she whispers as she enters the lines of traffic. She glances frantically from side to side to see cars close in around her. Drivers stare ahead with varying expressions of frustration and boredom. She was going to be late. Well, later than she already was. Valeria let herself grip the steering wheel as tight as she could and then forced her body to relax. Everything will be fine; she’ll figure out a way to work everything out. Maybe she would make it in time for the tail-end of her sister’s middle school adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood. It was only 5:11, the performance wasn’t over until 5:30, and the program could have started late, so maybe it really wouldn’t be over until 6:00. But she had already missed the first half of the performance because of the meeting with her professor. All over a class, she was going to fail anyway. Well, maybe not. But probably.

​

Valeria unconsciously tugs at her yellow sweater as she stares out the window. In the lane going the opposite direction, the cars, untouched by traffic, rush past her. Meanwhile, the cars in her lane were going at a pace slower than a baby’s crawl. She pulls her hand away from her sweater and places it on the armrest console. She lets her arm go limp.

 

As she inches forward, Valeria keeps taking peaks at the time.

 

5: 13

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5: 15

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5: 16

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5: 21

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5: 22

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5: 25

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5: 29

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Valeria feels her gut twist. Tears start to build in her eyes, then she blinks them back. Her grip loosens on the steering wheel. She won’t make it on time. Even if the program had started late, by the time she gets out of this traffic and makes it to her sister’s school, her family will either be leaving the school or have already left. They might even be leaving the school now. Valeria knows what awaits her when she gets home. A furrowed brow, mouth turned downwards, and her sister’s brown eyes turning glassy with tears. No, she really doesn’t want to see her sister’s face when she gets home.

​

Valeria’s heart does a somersault as she sees the line of cars ahead start to spread out. The clock reads 5:42. She should just head home. Valeria pushes up the sleeves of her yellow sweater so she can grip the steering wheel tighter. Her truck joins the other cars that are being funneled off to the right side of the highway, away from the accident. The wreck off to the left side of the highway features two semi-trucks that have toppled over from how hard they collided. It looks like a rear-end collision with the way the front of one truck and the back-end of another are smashed in. Even mangled, the semi-trucks look huge compared to the other vehicles on the highway. She would have hated to be driving near those trucks during the accident. Even worse would have been to be caught between them during such an event. It would have been like being an ant caught between two human hands.

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Valeria lets her GMC Sierra pick up speed as she gets further away from the sight of the accident. The smiley face accessory on her keychain jingles joyfully as her MPH keeps going up, up, up. Then she’s over the speed limit and has to slow down. She checks the time, and it’s 5:47. She takes the jacket that’s lying in the passenger’s seat and dumps it over the digital numbers on the control center. She doesn’t want to think about the time. She doesn’t want to think about chemistry. She doesn’t want to think about her sister’s face. She doesn’t want to think.

 

By the time Valeria gets home, it’s 5:58. Her jacket fell off the console and onto the floor, so the bright, white letters flash on the screen. It would be pitch black out if not for the street lamps and lights that shimmer through the neighbors’ windows. The windows of Valeria’s own home are lit, but no one runs out to greet her. Yet her sister knows she’s home. She must have heard the GMC Sierra pull into the driveway. Saw the headlights shine into the windows like a spotlight. Can probably feel Valeria’s very presence in the air. Maybe her sister didn’t notice. Valeria hopes that’s the case.

​

Valeria steps out of her GMC Sierra, grabs her backpack, and locks the truck behind her. She walks a short distance from her truck’s spot in the driveway to the front door. She places the house key in the lock. The smiley face accessory looks up at her. Valeria wraps her bottom three fingers around it. She uses her thumb and forefinger to turn the key in the lock. Then, she opens the door and steps inside the house. Then shuts and locks the door behind her. She places her backpack down by the door. The gazes of her family sing Valeria out as she walks further into the house.

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Valeria comes out of the foyer and into the dining room, where her mom sets the table. Her mom makes sure to place plates, silverware, and glasses around her sister’s collage of homework spread around the table. The living room lies just beyond the dining room, and her dad sits on the sofa in there watching TV.

 

“You didn’t come to my play,” her sister says, jumping up from the dining table to stand in front of Valeria.

 

“I know.”

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Her sister’s face starts to shift. Creases start etching themselves into her skin. Eyebrows furrowing together. Mouth pushing down into a frown. Eyes searching Valeria’s face for something. A part of Valeria hopes her sister finds what she’s looking for, and another part prays that she doesn’t.

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“You said you would come.”

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“I know.”

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“But you didn’t.”

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“I know.”

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“Celina, your sister–” their mom interrupts.

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“Fine, I should’ve known she wouldn’t come anyway,” Celina says as she turns away from Valeria.

 

Valeria gets a snapshot of Celina’s twisted face. Celina’s mouth becomes a mangled frown, and her eyebrows are drawn. The image disappears as Celina marches out of the dining room and down the hallway until she reaches her bedroom.

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Valeria’s mom places the last of the plates on the table with a sharp clang and looks at Valeria. Her hands are on her hips, and she has a single eyebrow raised. Valeria goes to finish helping set the table. The pot of broccoli on the stove boils as Valeria moves Celina’s homework from the table piece by piece. Valeria looks at each paper before gathering it in her arms. She spends a few seconds staring at a sheet of math problems, looking at the little hearts and smiley faces her sister has drawn and erased on the page. She picks up that paper, too, and walks to her sister’s room. She knocks on the door and receives no answer. Valeria listens for a moment and hears nothing, so she places the papers down on the carpeted floor outside her sister’s bedroom with a sigh.

 

Dinner drags on as food and conversation are passed around the table. Valeria’s parents ask the standard questions about how her day went and tell her how their days were. Then Celina looks up from where she’s been stabbing at her broccoli and narrows her eyes at Valeria.

 

“My play went really well.”

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“I know it did, sweetheart. You’re a very good actress,” her mom replies with a chuckle.

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“Yeah, Mrs. Browning said I’m one of her best actors.” Celina stabs at her broccoli again. Clear liquid wells up in the holes her fork makes.

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“Well, that’s why you had the lead role, right?” her dad comments as he spears a piece of meatloaf on his fork.

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“Yep, maybe one day I’ll be on Broadway, and everyone will be watching me perform. Well, almost everyone.” Celina lifts up her fork and brings it down hard on the broccoli. Her plate clangs against the table. Juice from the broccoli flies up about an inch from where the fork made its holes.

​

“Don’t play with your food, Celina.”

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“Okay.”

​

Valeria winces and rubs at her chest. Her heart pounds, and she feels like everyone around her can hear every beat. Her stomach tangles itself in knots. Still, Valeria smiles through every sentence. Her hands loosely holding her knife and fork. She manages to avoid looking at her sister for all of dinner.

 

When Valeria finally shuts herself up in her bedroom, she tosses herself face-first onto her bed. She has chemistry homework to do, but she can just do it tomorrow. Or the day after, right before class. There’s a knock at her door, but Valeria doesn’t move to answer it. Instead, she lets her body continue to sink into the bed and ignores the noise. The doorknob twists, and the door opens, but Valeria still doesn’t move. Light from the hallway spills in and floods the room. She hears her sister’s soft voice say, “She’s asleep, mom.” Then the door closes, and the light retreats except for a sliver left by the crack under the door.

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It’s only 7:38, and Valeria still wears her sweater and jeans, but she considers going to bed. She pulls her head out of her pillow and stares right into the eyes of the smiley face accessory. Valeria groans and pushes her face right back into the pillow. She should get rid of that thing, but that can wait until tomorrow morning. Or tomorrow night. For now, she’ll just go to sleep and not think.

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At 7:40, Valeria’s phone chimes with a notification, then she reaches out with her hand and grabs her phone. She should really turn it off. Valeria pauses when she sees that the notification is a text message from Celina. There’s a video attachment. When Valeria slides down to view all her notifications, she sees the white stage in Celina’s school cafeteria. The curtains are drawn back, and Celina stands in the center of the stage dressed in a red cape and plaid dress. Valeria can’t help smiling even as a knife twists in her gut.