Page 37 of Mad Love

“Me, too. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you for Christmas?”

“Will Rylan be there?”

Collins has a huge crush on my cousin.

“Collins, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but Rylan has a certain type and—”

“I’m not it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. His loss.”

I smile. “That’s the attitude. That’s how you’ll win him over.” I give her a double thumbs-up sign. The girls give in too easily to Rylan. What will happen if a girl rebuffs him? I believe he’ll see it as a challenge and give chase. I’ll encourage Collins to run far and fast and hope to God that Rylan sees her as a challenge.

Collins is my best friend, and her shipped with any of my cousins would make me happy. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch her disappear inside her bedroom through the window. I beat feet to the nearest bus stop.

On the main road, I tug the hood of my hoodie over my head. There is a lingering smell of burgers and garlic fries on my fingers, leftover from the takeout food I picked up for Collins from her favorite burger joint.

At the bus stop, I check the bus schedule. I missed the bus by ten minutes. Crap. I hurry to the other stop a few blocks down with my head lowered and my fingers crammed inside the pockets of my hoodie. Inside one of the pockets is a knife.

Making my way down the main road, I keep my eyes and ears open for trouble, not too worried for my safety. I know how to handle a knife, and it’s dark, but on this busy street, the streetlights are bright and so are the headlights from the cars.

A block from the bus stop, I hear whimpering. I stop near the mouth of the alleyway and lean in, believing I am hearing wrongly. More whimpering. I edge closer and concentrate on separating the whimpering from the street noises and the hard thumps of my heartbeats in my ears.

“Help me.”

A little girl’s voice.

“Are you okay?” Of course she’s not. She asked for help.

But I’m cautious for a reason. Collins asking for help is how she lured me into an alleyway too. She jumped me, robbing me of the gooey cinnamon roll I was devouring with zest. That girl and her sweet tooth.

“I’m hurt.”

“How?”

“My ankle. I rolled it. Please. I live down the street.”

I step into the alley and make my way to the figure on the ground. She’s tiny and looks to be around ten or so.

What is she doing in an alley alone at ten at night? I approach her with my hand on my knife inside my pocket and the other hanging loose at my side in case I need to sucker punch someone in the throat. My gaze shoots to the emptiness in front of us.

The nearest object that someone could hide behind is a dumpster a few feet away. The person would have to have a running start to get to me.

“My name’s Blaise. Can I look at your ankle?”

She nods.

I crouch in front of the little girl and peel her pants leg over her ankle, being careful not to jostle her leg. I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and shine a light on her ankle. It could be the poor lighting, but her ankle looks fine. She must’ve sensed my doubt. The little girl speaks fast, like she’s trying to get me to hang out with her longer.

“I was out walking my dog. She got out of her leash. I ran after her and rolled my ankle on a crack.”

I shouldn’t believe her, not after what happened with Collins, but what if this little girl ends up becoming my friend too? A girl can’t have too many friends.

“Can you walk on it?”

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