Page 143 of Withered

I enter reluctantly. Jake drives away, and I immediately recognize the road. “Are we going to go to the park?”

“Yeah,” Jake says, looking at me, then focusing his gaze on the road.

“Why there?”

“Why not?” He retorts.

I sigh and slump back in my seat. We get to the park in a matter of minutes. I’m reminded of a time when Jake and I were here one night.

“Remember that night?” Jake looks at me as he opens the gate.

“I can’t forget it, even if I want to. What a time,” I tell him and follow him further.

It’s just the two of us, as expected. We go back to the same rusted bench. The leaves are turning color as fall arrives. The trees in the parks have turned beautiful colors of orange and red, while some are still green, making it a sight worth seeing.

“So, tell me.” I turn to face him. “Where were you?”

“At Tyler’s,” he responds.

I look at him, confused. “But he said he didn’t know about you.”

Jake smirks at my reaction, and my mouth drops open in disbelief.Un-freaking-believable.

“He lied?” I ask him. I asked that idiot about Jake every day, and he fooled me the whole time. Esme was right.

“I told him not to say a word,” Jake confesses. “Don’t go after him.” He smirks when he notices my tight fists.

“I’m going to kill him.” I close my eyes and think of different ways to kill him.

Jake grins in amusement. “I’d like to see you try.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” I say after a few seconds, blowing out a breath. “Why didn’t you return home or to school?”

Jake looks far into something, and I glance to that side. “I was taking care of something.”

I look around the park. “Honestly, just spill it out. I don’t want to ask what or why; just tell me.”

Jake leans back on the bench and turns to me. “I saw some of the guys I fought with at the mall that day.”

I recall Jake coming home all bruised and telling me he fought with someone. I ask him to confirm my doubts: “The same people who beat you up?”

“Nope,” he chuckles. “Ibeatthemup.”

I roll my eyes. “And who beat you up?”

“They just throw a few punches here and there.” I shake my head as he smirks. “I don’t want them to see you,” he continues in a serious tone. “You’ll be in danger because of me. Okay? Simply stay by my side.”

I grab my bag and strike him again. “You expect me to stick by your side when you go missing? And you don’t even respond to my texts or return my calls.”

“You are violent today. I like it,” he comments, earning another hit from me.

“I’m confused; why did you fight with them?” I ask him.

He remains silent, and I observe him while waiting for him to respond. His figure becomes rigid, and if I’m not mistaken, he seems to be deep in thought.

“It was just a stupid thing. But they took it seriously.” He shrugs as if nothing has happened. “So, listen to me when I say we need to leave. Please.”

“Okay,” I say.

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