by Betsy Flak
Giving up on hearing from her tonight, you curl up in your bed, but sleep is hard. No matter how many times you tell yourself you’re being stupid, that creepy silhouette haunts your dreams. When your alarm goes off in the morning, it’s almost a relief. At least you don’t have to try to sleep any longer.
Your dad drops you off at school with more than a few reprimands about being responsible and not leaving your brand new bike in a random alley overnight. You ignore his lecture. It’s not like you wanted to leave your bike there.
After waving goodbye to him, you hurry to your usual spot. Just like yesterday, Paige waits for you, perched on the same picnic table, sucking on a new lollipop. One bare leg extends into the weak morning sun.
You climb onto the table to sit next to her. The stone chills the backs of your thighs, even through your jeans.
Paige beams at you. Her shoulder bumps against yours. “Sorry I never returned your call last night. I was busy.”
You lie, “It’s okay.”
“Was it about anything important?”
“Nope.” Something about what Paige just said bothers you. Yesterday being the first day of school, you didn’t get any homework. And Julia’s dad is strict about curfews, both for Julia herself and for her friends. “What were you busy with?”
Paige bops your nose with her lollipop. Her hazel eyes gleam. “I don’t kiss and tell, silly.”
Confusion wrinkles your forehead. Paige always kisses and tells.
“Hey, guys.” Julia pops onto the tabletop next to you, her loose waves tied back into a shiny ponytail. “Did I miss anything last night?”
“Last night?” You didn’t tell anyone about your…episode last night, so what is Julia talking about?
Julia shoots you a relaxed smile. “Yeah, last night. When you and Paige were hangin’ out in Corner Coffee after my dad kicked her out. Did you forget or somethin’?”
In the corner of your eye, Paige shakes her head. She uses your body as a shield between her and Julia.
Now you’re more curious than ever. What was Paige doing last night? Guess I’ll just have to ask her later. “Yeah, no. I mean, nothing of interest happened. Just the usual, you know.”
“Gotcha.” Julia’s phone buzzes. She checks it, then rolls her eyes. Without a word, she hands her phone to you.
Out loud, you read the text from Julia’s dad.
Stay safe, there’s a rumor that someone went missing last night.
Paige rips the phone out of your hand and hunches over it.
You laugh. “Whoa, overreact much, Paige?”
With a wrinkled brow, Paige stares at the screen. Her front teeth worry her glossy lower lip. At last, she gives the phone back to Julia. “No, it’s nothing…just, where exactly does your dad get his information, Julia? I mean, my mom shoulda told me…”
Julia shrugs. “I dunno.”
The warning bell rings. All three of you hop off the picnic table. When you approach the stairs of the main class building, Paige peels off. You move to follow her, but she wriggles her phone at you. Apparently, she has to make a call. Before classes. At eight in the morning.
Something’s off with Paige. You’d like to know what it is.
If you follow Paige, intending to listen to her phone call, click here.
If you mind your own business and follow Julia into North Fruitvale High School, click here.
Bell-like chuckles chime in your mind, but you keep your face composed. You check the box next to “latte” on Magda’s cup, but you conveniently “forget” to check the boxes for sugar-free and soy milk.
Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t order such a high-maintenance drink, Magda.
You add the cup to Bryce’s queue, then 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 sigh. The only thing that got you through the last frantic hour was looking forward to dinner with Paige and Julia. Now you’re stuck at work alone. Well, not quite. With Davey and Magda. You dawdle at the back, rearranging supplies and avoiding Davey’s and Magda’s empty cups. Bryce can take of them.
The bells near the door tinkle again. Sammy strides through it.
You rush out from behind the counter and trot over to Sammy. “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 dim. “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, you smirk. Now it’s time to see whether Magda even notices the changes to her high-maintenance order.
Bryce busies himself with the last empty cup. Since no customers wait behind the cash register, you hoist yourself up to sit on the counter. With your feet kicking up and down, you watch Sammy—the master—at work.
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 wa
y. 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 closest to the front window and farthest from the back booth where the devil twins drink their coffee. You unwrap your sandwich and begin eating. You check your phone for a while, then open your book and read.
When you reach your last bite, you glance 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. 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 leads 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, hurried feet slap against the tile floor, coming from a back booth.
You peek over your book.
Cradling her stomach, Magda half-runs, half-hobbles out the door. Davey follows on her heels with a backpack in either hand. When he scowls at you, your smirk morphs into a smile sweeter than maple syrup. The door slams behind him. You return to your book, memorizing all the details to tell Paige later.
By the time Sammy and Bryce return—over an hour and a half after they left—it’s dark out.
Bryce’s fingers comb through his messy waves as he passes through the gate behind a smug Sammy. “Busy tonight?”
“Not any more than usual.”
Bryce checks his watch. “There’s only an hour or so till we close. You can go if you want. Sammy and I can handle things from here.”
You turn away from Bryce and toward the back room, then roll your eyes. Oh, something’s gonna get handled. But that’s the owner’s problem, not yours. At least you’re out early.
As soon as the door closes behind you, you text Paige.
You still over at Julia’s?
You take your time changing back into your school clothes, waiting for Paige to answer. After packing your single possession into your limp backpack, you can dawdle no longer. You check your phone one last time, but there’s still nothing from Paige. Guess I’ll just go home.
You wave goodbye to Bryce and Sammy, already cuddling behind the counter. You head out the door, then walk along State Ave toward the library and the alleyway behind it. You dodge moony-eyed couples and groups of rebellious tweens hurrying home to angry parents.
When you reach the library, you round the corner, your hands in the pockets of your shorts. The overhead lights flicker at the alleyway’s entrance. Farther in, the lights are completely out, including the ones by the bike rack.
Shivers crawl up your spine. Your foot hovers in the air at the mouth of the alley.
What is it with today and the creep factor up a zillion and one?
You shake it off. When you stride into the alley, your back is straight and your chin lifted, like you don’t have a care in the world. You reach the bike rack. Paige’s bike is the only other one in the rack, which is weird. She should have ridden it to Julia’s house this afternoon. Even if she didn’t, Julia’s dad would have kicked Paige out well over an hour ago. Next to your bike, you swing your backpack around to find your phone and use it as a flashlight to unlock your bike.
Crrr-runch
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You twist around in slow motion.
A dark silhouette looms before you, just past the dumpsters. Hands form claws on either side.
You step backward.
The inky figure stalks forward.
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 dart to the bat and fight? Or should you run for your life?
If you take the bat and fight, click here.
If you run for your life, click here.
Paige’s fingers clamp down, clutching your hand. As Paige tows you down the sidewalk, you peek back at Magda. She’s chewing on her lower lip, watching. You mouth “sorry.”
“Be careful,” Magda calls after you. Her forehead wrinkles with concern.
“I told you she was weird.” Paige tosses her stick-straight locks over her shoulder.
You shrug, relaxing into your normal banter with Paige. The wind calms to a mere breeze. “She didn’t seem that weird to me.”
Arching a dark eyebrow, Paige glances at you out of the corner of her eye. “We’ll call it a momentary lapse of sanity then.”
Paige leads you back toward the alleyway. When you reach it, the lamps closest to the entrance still flicker. Inky blackness shrouds the middle.
Even though the alley is quiet, your heart speeds. Your feet refuse to move forward. You do not want to see the dead body of the man you killed, no matter what Magda claimed earlier.
Paige peers back at you. Her fingers intertwine with yours, then tug you forward, into the alleyway.
You bite your lip, but follow Paige.
A third of the way in, your jaw drops. The body is gone, as is the bat, as are the ashes from the fire. There’s not even a speck of blood where the man collapsed.
Paige stops a couple of feet away from the bike rack. You stumble to avoid running into her.
When she turns around to face you, she’s so close that you can smell the coffee on her breath. Her fingertips skim down your cheek. “I’m just sorry it had to be you.”
Confusion furrows your brows. “Paige?”
With a sad smile, she backs away from you.
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. A gust of wind churns around you.
Rough hands flip you onto your back. Your skull bounces off the unyielding ground. Stars in the night sky swirl above the brick walls 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. His fangs shine so white it hurts your eyes.
Like a boa constrictor, fear winds around your torso and squeezes. It’s the man you thought you killed only minutes ago.
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.
You die.
To continue, click here.
“I’ll go get help, Magda.” Panic chokes your voice. It’s barely a whisper.
Spinning on your heel, you sprint away from them and back toward the entran
ce of the alley. All those reports from over the summer—all those missing people—bounce around your mind. You push your legs even harder.
The sounds of a scuffle echo off the alley’s brick walls.
You swallow your guilt. Once you’re to safety, you can help Magda. Call the police or something.
You reach the alley’s opening. There, you’re faced with a choice. Do you turn right to race to Julia’s house, a few blocks away? Or do you turn left and hope that Sammy and Bryce haven’t closed Corner Coffee early?
If you turn right and head to Julia’s house, click here.
If you turn left and head to Corner Coffee, click here.
You dash to the bat. Your fingers curl around cold steel. You brandish it between you and the advancing form.
The figure laughs as it steps into the flickering light. A worn face meets you, with high cheekbones, a long nose, and almond eyes so black they swallow the lamp light. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
You wave the bat. “Don’t come any closer.”
His hands raise with fingers outspread. “It’s okay. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
You lower your bat.
He slams into your side, the attack nothing but a blur. 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 brick walls looming over you.
He blocks them out. His greasy locks swing toward you. Canines almost an inch long poke through his lips. His fangs shine so white it hurts your eyes.
He leers at you, then darts to your neck. Twin knives puncture your throat.
Your life drains away.
