Abby tugged at the hood of the parka in a vain attempt to shield her face from the cold. She hadn’t been walking long and already her nose hairs were frozen. Her gloved hands were stuffed into her coat pockets and her feet were going numb. Apparently, wearing the boots with the tassels she loved so much hadn’t been a good idea. Good thing she was hooking up with Josh only a few blocks away from where she lived. As uncomfortable as it would be being with him, at least she’d be warm in the car. It’s called The Beast, Abby, with a capital ‘T’ and a capital ‘B.’ How childish does a person have to be to name his car? For a high school senior, Josh could be real immature at times. But, then again, Abby had dated him, had even wondered what it would be like to sleep with him, so what did that say about her level of maturity.
Abby shook her head.
A single snowflake, on its own journey that would soon end, drifted down in front of her. It would land on the cold, hard ground, be lost amidst all the other snowflakes that had fallen before it, all of them left to be trampled upon, dirtied by mud kicked up by passing cars and the soles of people’s boots, finally shoveled aside and out of the way. Abby would soon be in Albany where she would find herself face-to-face with the cold, harsh reality of her mother’s grave. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was on her way to getting muddied, trampled on, and shoved to the side by whatever life would throw at her in Albany.
No two snowflakes are alike. That’s what her father had told her when she was a little girl. All of them were unique, he’d said, each created by God with a specific design. And if He cares that much about snowflakes, Abby, what does that say about how much He cares for us? Looking up into the gray clouds, searching for more falling snowflakes, Abby had no idea what it said about God caring for her. No idea at all.
She lowered her head to watch where she was walking as she turned the corner and headed west onto Woodlawn Avenue. The familiar growl caught her attention. She looked up and there was The Beast, idling at the curb, spewing exhaust out its tail pipe. And there was Josh, in the driver’s seat.
Abby slowed her pace. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and slid them out of the gloves. She approached the idling car, anxious and unexpectedly excited. She reached for the handle on the passenger door. When she touched the cold metal, she froze. I can’t do this. I can’t do it. I shouldn’t do it. I should be home with my father. Why did I involve Josh? What if he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want to go through with it? But he’s here, so he couldn’t have changed his mind. What if…what if—
The engine revved. The Beast shook.
Abby bit her lower lip. She slowly curled her fingers around the handle, relishing the cold metal in her grip, letting it bring awareness and focus and life to her entire body. She sighed, opened the door, and let the knapsack slide off her back. She pulled the back of the front seat forward and heaved the knapsack onto the rear seat. The front seat fell back into place. Abby breathed in deeply of the frigid air then dropped herself into The Beast. She grasped the inside door handle, thought once more about changing her mind, then shut the door, sealing herself inside The Beast.
The Beast growled. It spewed out mud-stained snow from under its tires and roared up the street, carrying its two unwitting passengers to their destinies. Destinies far different than the ones each of them had in mind.