by Betsy Flak
“Davey, is everything okay?”
He clears his throat. His hands press against his shorts. “Where’s your bike again?” His voice is rough, like he forced the words out.
You wave toward the library, waiting on the corner half a block away. “Just inside that alley.”
“Why’d you put it there?” Davey’s tone borders on accusatory.
Your arms cross over your chest. “Because that’s where the bike racks are.”
You and Davey pass the remaining steps in silence. When you arrive at the alleyway, Davey cuts in front of you. The overhead lights flicker at the entrance. Farther in, the lights are completely out, including the ones by the bike rack.
Davey’s hand reaches toward a hip. The other arm holds you back behind him while you both stride into the alley.
Shivers crawl up your spine. What is it with today and the creep factor up a zillion and one?
You shake them off. Stupid Davey and his stupid good looks have altered your judgment, that’s all. Paige is right. Davey’s weird.
Maybe I should run back to Corner Coffee and get away from him? But no, that will only result in you getting home even later. Besides, the longer you stay with crazy Davey, the better story you’ll have to tell Paige.
And what makes a story even better?
A photo, obviously!
As Davey approaches the bike rack, you slide your phone out of your pocket. You hold it up and snap a picture. The light flashes in the dark.
Davey’s head whips around. “What are you doing?” It’s more anger than question. Before you can answer, Davey falls backward and crashes into you. You slam into the ground. Your phone tumbles across the asphalt.
“Davey, what the he—” Your jaw drops.
A figure with inch-long canines wrestles with Davey. With a powerful twist, Davey hurls the man into one of the dumpsters. The dumpster crumples beneath the force, but the man lands in a squat. Ebony eyes that absorb every speck of light meet yours.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. What’s going on?
Davey tilts his head toward you and growls, “Out. Get out.”
The man circles toward Davey, away from the collapsed dumpster. Hands form claws on either side.
You step backward.
The man’s gaze flicks back to you. A bloodthirsty grin twists his wormlike lips. He stalks forward.
Davey blocks the path to you. His left hand clutches a wooden stake. His eyes are glued to the man, but he whispers to you, “I told you, get out of here.”
Your heart pounds. You can’t breathe. You can’t think.
Your eye catches on a dented metal bat on the opposite side of the alleyway. It shimmers in the flickering light from the alley’s mouth.
Your fingers twitch at your sides. Should you ignore Davey’s order and take the bat and fight with him? Or do you listen and run for your life?
If you take the bat and fight with Davey, click here.
If you leave Davey and run for your life, click here.
“Julia, I’ll be right in.” Mimicking Paige, you wave your phone at her. “I just need to check on something really quick.”
“Oh, um, okay.” Julia frowns at you, but heads in with the rest of the students crowding the entryway.
You turn away and weave through your classmates, battling the current flowing into NFHS. When you reach the corner where Paige disappeared, you flatten yourself against the brick wall like you’re James Bond.
But wait, isn’t this super obvious? Deciding that it is, you cross your legs at the ankle and scroll through your phone as if you’re waiting for someone.
Paige’s voice reaches your ears. “You have to be more careful. I don’t know how much longer I can cover for you… No, my friend’s dad heard of a missing person today… No, my mom didn’t say anything about it to me… I don’t think she suspects anything. I think she’s just trying to shelter me…”
Your jaw drops. Paige can’t…no, she can’t possibly be talking to…and yet…
You slide down the wall. Your limp backpack catches on the rough brick. Your fingers comb through your hair. How can this be?
You sit there, numb in shock.
Seconds, minutes, or hours later, a pair of beaded sandals appears before you. Your eyes travel up bare legs, a floral skirt, and a tight V-neck. Lined gray eyes—matching her shirt—meet you. They’re narrowed.
Paige’s hands dig into her waist. One hip juts out. “Just how long have you been sitting there?”
At her annoyed tone, indignation flows through your veins. You scramble to your feet. Your fingers wrap around Paige’s bicep. “Paige, what’s going on?” More fear than anger makes it into your voice.
She tears her arm away. “Nothing. Let’s just go.” She rushes away from you, back toward the entrance of NFHS.
You catch up to her in a single stride. “Paige, you can tell me. I promise.”
Paige’s lips press into a line of uncertainty, but her gaze remains flinty. “And if I don’t?”
“You know me. I won’t let it go. You’ll have to tell me eventually.”
Paige sighs. “I s’pose so…” Her fingers wheedle around your elbow, then squeeze. “Why don’t we chat tonight at the library?”
Your stomach flips. “Tonight? At the library?” The basement of the library is a prime makeout spot in Fruitvale. It’s second only to Corner Coffee’s back booths, which are obviously off-limits to you. But why does Paige want to talk there?
“Yeah, so you can tell your parents we’re studying. I’ll pick you up around nine. Sound good?”
You speed through your acceptance, “Yeah, sounds good.”
The school day is long and filled with boring classes that fail to keep you mind off your…appointment with Paige. When you get home, you watch mindless TV show after mindless TV show, punctuated only by a family dinner during which you say little and eat less.
Beep-beep! Beep!
“Dad, I’m heading out with Paige. I’ll be back by curfew,” you yell into the kitchen.
“Okay. Don’t forget to pick up your bike,” your dad calls as you hurry out the door.
You stop short on the front porch. You expected Mrs. Torres’s station wagon. Instead, Paige sits in an ancient black Corvette with the top down. You hop into the red leather passenger seat before the impatient Paige can initiate a second round of honking.
Paige tightens the handkerchief protecting her hair from the wind. Her hazel eyes sparkle. “You ready?” Not waiting for your answer, Paige slams down the gas pedal. The tires peel out as she whips around the corner, toward State Ave.
You suck in a breath. Your nails dig into the arm rests. Paige is not a careful driver. “W-where’d you get the car, Paige?”
“From a friend.” Paige flashes a grin. “So…do you wanna get a snack first? You hungry?”
Your stomach rumbles.
“I knew it! Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken care of.” Paige winks at you.
Almost ten blocks away from downtown Fruitvale, Paige pulls down a side street and parks the car. “Sorry ’bout the walk. You know I’m not very good at parallel parking. My friend’ll be pissed if I get even a scratch on his baby.” After caressing the scratched hood, Paige heads toward downtown.
Good luck noticing one more. “Speaking of which, who is this new ‘friend’ of yours, Paige?”
“Oh, he’s wonnnnn-derful. Dark, broody, older, all the classic romance signs. Although, I’m not quite sure he’s my type.” Despite the disclaimer, Paige extols his virtues while you meander down side street after side street, wending your way toward downtown.
By the time the streets become lanes between the backs of quiet townhomes, jealousy fills your empty stomach. You fight to keep it out of your tone. “And how’d you meet him?”
“He found me.”
That’s…weird. “What do you mean, he found you?”
Paige wears a sad smile. “Listen, I am sorry about this.”
/> “Sorry? What—”
A body slams into your side. You crash onto the rocky asphalt. Talons slash your abdomen, tracing your ribs. Daggers of pain stab through your torso, then radiate through your body. Every breath is agony. Tears spring to your eyes.
Rough hands flip you onto your back. Your skull bounces off the unyielding ground. Stars in the night sky swirl above the townhomes looming over you.
A man with greasy locks blocks them out. His pitch-black eyes swallow the lamp light. Canines almost an inch long poke through his lips. They shine so white it hurts your eyes.
He leers at you, then darts to your neck. The movement is nothing but a blur. Twin knives puncture your throat.
Your life drains away.
Oops, I forgot to scream.
To continue, click here.
With a sigh, you check the boxes next to “latte,” “soy,” and “SF.” You suppose Magda might need the soy milk. But seriously, why couldn’t she just order a plain old soy mocha like a normal person, especially after seeing this line of customers?
You force a smile as you add the cup to Bryce’s queue. When you tilt your head toward the serving area at the opposite end of the polished counter, Davey and Magda follow your gesture without a word.
You ring up the final customer behind them, then turn to the line of empty cups and mugs awaiting Bryce’s attention. You pluck Paige’s and Julia’s plastic cups out of the queue. After scooping ice into each one, you pour the concentrated coffee. It pops and fizzles over the ice. You leave room for cream in Paige’s drink and fill Julia’s to the brim. After snapping on the plastic tops, you hand Paige and Julia their beverages. Over your shoulder, you peek back at the cash register.
No one waits there.
Your lips stretch into a grin. As soon as Sammy gets here, you can claim that you need to straighten things up next to Paige and Julia.
Paige adds an abundance of cream and sugar to her iced coffee. Taking a sip, she glances askance, toward the whispering Davey and Magda. Her hazel eyes narrow. “I think we’re gonna go…”
Your blood pulses with alarm. “What? No! I just—”
“Yeah, I think we’ll hang out at Julia’s instead.” After cutting you off mid-sentence, Paige casts a final disapproving look at the twins. She heads out the door with Julia on her heels.
You turn away from Paige’s disapproval and grab Davey’s empty mug. You fill it to the brim, then slide it over the counter toward the waiting Davey. “Here you go.”
Davey’s full lips spread into a grin. His straight, ivory teeth stand out in the dim lighting of Corner Coffee. “Thanks.”
Maybe Davey isn’t so bad after all.
“What about mine? Is it ready yet?” Magda whines. On the other side of the counter, she scowls at you with her arms crossed.
With more effort than Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill, you resist rolling your eyes. “Just a sec. Yours is…a bit more complicated.” There, look at all that diplomacy!
You reach toward Magda’s cup, but stop when the bells near the door tinkle again. Sammy strides through it.
You rush out from behind the counter and trot over to Sammy, if only to escape making Magda’s drink. “Sammy! Bryce is so pissed at you for bein’ late. Be careful.”
Sammy runs a rough hand through his mussy hair, but his smile doesn’t fade. “You worry too much.” His pinky wiggles at you. “I’ve got Bryce wrapped around my little finger.”
After stepping around you, Sammy passes through the gate to join Bryce behind the counter. His leather messenger bag flaps against a thick thigh. He slings an arm around Bryce’s hunched shoulders. “Bryce, baby, how are you?”
Shrugging Sammy’s arm off, Bryce finishes Magda’s drink with a dash of cinnamon. He growls, “You’re late.” Then he hands Magda her steaming cup.
As Magda and Davey retreat to a booth in the back corner, Davey twists around. Walking backward, he raises his mug and calls, “Thanks again.” With a sunbeam of a smile, he winks at you.
You ignore it. Paige doesn’t approve of Davey, even if he is on the attractive side of things and possibly nice. Since Bryce is filling the last empty cup in the queue, you hoist yourself up to sit on the counter. Dismissing all thoughts of the twins hiding in the back corner, you watch Sammy—the master—at work. Your feet kick up and down.
Sammy’s almond eyes grow wide. “I know, and I’m so sorry.” His fingertips brush against Bryce’s forearm. “How can I make it up to you?”
Bryce stays silent, finishing the last drink with a dollop of homemade whipped cream. It rises over the brim of the cardboard cup like a snowy mountain range. He gives it to a middle-aged man, then bends down and retrieves a teal Corner Coffee apron from under the counter. He slams it into Sammy’s broad chest. “You can start by working.” Bryce storms off into the back room, leaving you and Sammy alone.
Sammy shrugs, then peels off his charcoal T-shirt. He flexes his bare six-pack while he takes his sweet time searching his bag for his Corner Coffee attire. His dark gaze flashes up to yours. Sammy whispers, “Is he watching?”
You snicker. “What do you think, Sammy? He’s in the back room with the door shut.”
“Doesn’t hurt to put on a show, just in case.” Sammy tugs the black shirt over his abs at last. His fingers tighten the strings of his apron around his hips. “Bryce’ll come ’round, he always does. Just gotta give him some time to sulk first. Although…” Sammy peers at his phone, then slips it back into the pocket of his cargo shorts. “You mind takin’ dinner first? I think he’s gonna need a li’l more time than usual today.”
You hop off the counter. “Not at all. Should I go now or delay for a bit?”
“Mmmm…” Sammy’s forehead wrinkles. His inky brows scrunch together. “I think…now.”
“Okie dokie.” You retrieve your library book, your half-full iced coffee, and a premade sandwich from the refrigerator without paying for it.
Sammy looks the other way. His thin lips twitch toward a smile.
You exit through the gate on the side of the counter, then weave through the tables to arrive at the wooden bar attached to a brick wall. You choose the seat farthest from the front door and closest to the back booth where Magda and Davey disappeared. To avoid interacting with customers during your dinner break, you tell yourself.
As you sit down, you peek at the nearby booth. Sure enough, there’s Davey, sipping on his coffee. His brown eyes flick to yours. They crinkle when he smiles at you.
You bite your lower lip to stop yourself from returning it. At the same time, pale blue nails brush against Davey’s hand wrapped around his mug. His smile melts away. His gaze returns to the person opposite him—Magda, you assume, although the high back of the booth blocks her from view.
Crushing the uninvited disappointment into dust, you unwrap your sandwich and begin eating. You check your phone without a glance in their direction, then open your book and read. When you reach your last bite, you peer over your shoulder at the counter. Sammy and Bryce huddle together by the espresso machine. Sammy leans his forehead against Bryce’s stubbled cheek.
You shake your head and return to your book. If you were that late even once, you’d never hear the end of it. Twice and Bryce would fire you.
“Hey!” Bryce’s voice rings out through the mostly empty café.
You look up. Bryce stares at you.
“What?”
“Aren’t you about done with your dinner break?”
Tucking your bookmark in, you swallow your last bite. You slide off the bar chair, throw away your trash, then head back to the counter. You resist the urge to check if the twins watch you.
When you pass through the gate, Sammy is already untying his apron. After he stuffs it under the counter, Bryce laces their fingers together.
A knife of jealousy stabs through you. Not since Jamie have you held anyone’s hand. Even though that relationship was a disaster, you miss that closeness.
Bryce lead
s Sammy through the gate. “We’re getting a bite. You’ve got the shop for the next hour.”
Behind Bryce’s back, Sammy teases you with a wide grin, his perfect teeth a blinding white.
You stick out your tongue. Of course, they get an entire hour while you got a whole twenty minutes. You pretend to sweep nonexistent crumbs off the counter until Bryce is out of sight. Then you get out your phone, set a timer for forty-five minutes, and drag a tall stool from the bar to behind the counter. With your book in one hand, you climb onto it and face the entryway. Hunched over, you begin reading. At least evenings are slow.
One, then two chapters fly by. In the middle of chapter four, hands slap against a wood table.
You peek over your book.
Magda erupts from the back booth with Davey on her heels. “I’m going home.”
Davey’s deep voice is as calm and smooth as a pond on a hot summer’s day. “And I’m going to stay a bit longer. I told you, take the car. I’ll meet you back home.”
Magda huffs and puffs, but relents, “Fine. I’ll see you later.” She embraces her brother. Her wide-set eyes narrow at you over his shoulder.
Your gaze dashes back to your book. Whatever is going on between them, it doesn’t involve you.
Once Magda’s out the door, it’s just you and Davey in Corner Coffee as the sun sets. In another situation, it might be romantic.
In front of the counter, Davey slurps up the last of his coffee. His weight shifts between his feet.
Do you ignore him and return to your book? Or do you offer him a refill and a seat at the counter next to you?
If you ignore Davey and return to your book, click here.
If you offer Davey a refill and a seat next to you, click here.
You shrug off your curiosity. If Paige wanted you to know, she’d tell you. Besides, you can always pester her about it later.
Following Julia toward the brick buildings of NFHS, you glance over shoulder. Paige’s dark locks disappear behind the back row of cars.
Ignorance is bliss, right?
To continue, click here.
It hasn’t been that long, so you take a chance and turn left. In a haze, you race back to Corner Coffee, dodging the couples on their romantic strolls and the hurried loners alike. All hurl disgruntled, confused, or concerned looks at you. A few yell at you to slow down.
