Page 19 of I Was Always Yours (RCA: Royal Crown Academy)

“Nothing.” Astor and I say simultaneously, making it worse.

Silence stretches between us and then Astor turn towards me.

“Let’s go to your house? You had that thing you wanted to show me.” He says, giving me big eyes.

“Yup, I did. I mean, I do. Let’s go,” I add, “See you later, Nix.”

I don’t make eye contact with him as I walk past him, my hand clutching the pocket of my trousers as if the note might accidentally jump out and land in his hands.

“Later, bro.” I hear Astor add from behind me.

Outside, it’s still pouring rain. We make quick work of getting down the ladder then grab the bikes that we’d haphazardly laid on the ground in our attempt to avoid the downpour.

“Do you think he saw anything?” I ask.

“No,” Astor answers quickly, pedaling out ahead of me, “But he definitely thought we were up to something. We weren’t very subtle.”

“I know, I panicked.”

“It’s okay, he’ll be happy in a few days when he finds out what that was all about.” He yells so I can hear him.

“Hey, wait for me.” I call out, trying to pedal faster so I can catch up to him, but he doesn’t hear me over the rain. “Astor!”

Distance stretches between us as he pedals twenty feet ahead of me. The rain hinders my visibility and makes it impossible for my voice to carry when I call his name again.

My front wheel snags on a tree root and I go flying, landing on my side with the bike still partially between my legs.

“Ouch,” I groan, sitting up carefully and taking stock of my body.

I’m covered in mud from head to toe but at least nothing’s broken, thank God. I’m going to kick Astor’s butt for leaving me behind when I get my hands on him.

My head snaps up when loud noises shatter the stillness brought by the rain. They come through in a terrifying sequence of individual sounds that tell a story I refuse to understand.

Tires squealing and breaking.

A loud, bone chilling thud.

A horrified scream.

It’s coming from the road. From the direction Astor was cycling towards.

All the air is sucked out of my lungs like they’re being vacuum sealed as horror descends on my body.

“No,” I whisper, “No, no, no.”

I kick my bike away from me, freeing the leg that was still stuck under it and run for the road, hoping against hope that a car just braked really loudly.

“Astor!” I scream as I run, my feet pounding on the wet ground and my lungs bursting, starving for air, but I don’t stop.

Please,I think desperately,please just answer me.

“Astor!” I call out again as I approach the road. I’m not paying attention and trip again, my knees scrapping against the rocky earth.

I dig my nails into the ground and use the leverage to get myself back up and through the line of trees. My gaze is frantic as I try to process what's happening in front of me.

It feels like my eyes and brain move in slow motion as I take in the scene piece by piece.

The car parked erratically, diagonally stopped half on the street, half on the sidewalk.

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