by S.E. Akers
They were all from Katie. Apparently, she was more concerned than she was letting on earlier.
Should I tell her what happened? I know she’s my best friend, and I can tell her anything…but THIS? I tossed my phone straight into the passenger-seat, feeling the overwhelming need to weigh the pros and cons of that crazy confession first.
With a turn of the ignition, I cranked up the old Charger and sat there listening to the hum of its engine, trying my best to compose myself (sadly, without any luck). Most of the other cars were already gone, so I had a lot more room to get out of the tight spot I’d jammed my car into earlier.
Without looking, I threw my car into reverse and drifted back towards the highway. I glanced into my rearview mirror just in the nick of time to see someone hovering behind my car and then slammed my foot on the brake.
“SHIT!” I gasped as my body bounced up and down in the seat. As the reality of what could have happened began to sink in, I looked into my rearview mirror and then ordered myself to, “Snap out of it!”
I couldn’t see the face of the person I’d almost hit. All I saw was a tan coat. I waited for them to move, but they stood there motionless, blocking my departure. Even in spite of the fact that I’d almost hit this person, I couldn’t help thinking, Why won’t they MOVE? Then no sooner than I’d glanced over at my side mirror, the man shot directly into view.
Mr. Estell.
My eyes flared as he slowly started to walk around my car, headed straight for my door. Considering the events of the past thirty minutes, naturally I freaked. Another peculiar feeling came over me, and this one had me questioning whether or not his approach had anything at all to do with a grumbly “watch where the heck you’re going” tirade.
Seeing how there weren’t any other cars sandwiched around me anymore, I opted to throw my vehicle into “drive” and then squeaked out a hard turn without scraping the side of the mountain. I steered my Charger onto the highway, slinging gravel every which way while my spinning tires belted out an ear piercing, “s-c-r-e-e-c-h”.
As soon as I was safely on the road, I acknowledged my rudeness by rolling down the window and awkwardly yelling back, “SORRY,” as I sped down the highway. Once I’d reached the fork and turned right onto the mountain road that would lead me home, I took a calming breath and began chastising myself thoroughly.
I think you need to do more than just clean out Daddy’s workshop this evening… Like most important — your freakin’ head!
Chapter 4
