I freeze in place, afraid to release the handle. Afraid to breathe.
“They’re probably at the front by now.” It’s Adam. I’m sure of it.
“You’d better be right, Reed.”
The footsteps move past, and the grip on my shoulder loosens. I take a single shuddering breath, and Maggie presses her hands to the door as well. Our eyes meet and we share a slow nod.
I lift up my fingers one at a time. One, two, three. We slam into it together, and the door flings loose.
We’re out.
We fly into the parking lot in a full sprint. My feet slide on the asphalt, but it’s Maggie’s gasp that stops me in my tracks.
“What is—” I cut myself off because I see what it is. A black Mustang, engine purring and headlights on. Blake.
I keep my eyes locked on the car, on the dark square of glass that hides Blake’s face from me. My hand searches blindly for Maggie until I find her coat sleeve and pull.
“Run,” I say.
“Where?” Maggie asks, her voice shrill. She’s got a point. High fences and thick brush surrounds the high school lawn. From this side, the only way out is the driveway, which means moving straight into the parking lot. We either take our chances of dodging Daniel again in the school—or we run for it.
“We have to book it,” I say.
Maggie follows me as I half run, half slide into the slick, white lot. Running isn’t going to be possible. Ice-skating would be closer to the truth.
I don’t look up, but I hear Blake’s door open and his feet hitting the ground. “Chloe, stop! Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
I just move faster, ignoring the way my feet slip and the way the cold air burns my lungs. We can do this. We have to do this.
Blake is closing in behind us. The sound of his footsteps sends me rushing faster, but every step is a chance to fall. And we can’t afford to fall. I hear a scuffling and turn to see Blake in an awkward stance, his arms stretched wide for balance. I square my shoulders. We’ve got the edge for now.
And that’s when Maggie goes down, hitting the ground knees-first with a cry. I pull her up and look at the road beyond the school. We’re close now. The street and sidewalks are clearer, probably thanks to the last dusting from the salt trucks.
“C’mon,” I say. We head for the road and hear a desperate scrabble of boots on ice. I glance back to see Blake on the ground now, swearing.
I don’t look back again. Not when I hear him limp his way back to the car. Not even when I hear the crunch of his tires on the fresh snow. He’s coming for us.
“Chloe?” Maggie’s voice is small.
All I can do is nod. The sidewalks are better, so we pick up speed. But Blake is right beside us, that big engine growling as he keeps pace with our jogging. I don’t know why he doesn’t stop. I guess he doesn’t need to bother. It’s not like we can outrun him.
Not on the street anyway.
Nudging Maggie, I veer into a yard, cutting toward the narrow space between two of the houses near us.
I hear the whirring of a window rolling down and then Blake’s voice.
“Don’t be stupid, Chloe. My dad called. Just show me where it is and nothing bad happens.”
I ignore him and my burning lungs. We climb a chain-link fence and move diagonally across a snowy backyard. Blake speeds up, no doubt trying to cut us off. We switch directions halfway through the yard and cut through to Beech instead of Maple.
Not that it matters. This isn’t Manhattan. He can loop all the streets in town until he finds us. We’re like rats running in a maze.
Maggie stays close as we head back to the road, trying to stick to the shadows. It’s six blocks to her house, and my boots are soaked through. I can hear Maggie’s teeth chattering. How the hell are we going to get there without him seeing us?
“W-w-why is he staying in the car?” she asks.
“Because he knows he has a better chance of keeping an eye on us.”
“So he’s just waiting t-to tire us out?”
“He doesn’t need to catch us, Mags. He just wants to know where I’m going. Let’s cross here.”
We move quickly and quietly across the street, eyes darting in both directions, but there is nothing. No headlights, no rumbling engines. The quiet is almost enough to convince me that I’ve lost him. We’re in and out of a half dozen lawns, zigging and zagging through the growing blanket of snow.
Sometimes, I hear a car that sounds like his. But it’s not. We’re getting lucky. At Main Street, we finally stop. Maggie braces her hands on her knees while I wipe sweat from my brow.
“We have to keep moving,” I say, too nervous to be standing on this corner.
“The p-police,” she gasps out, nodding left.
“Your house is closer. That’s where the drugs are.”
“You d-didn’t bring me anything, Chlo. I d-don’t have them.”
“The Not Treasure Box,” I say, and it is all she needs.
We start to cross the deserted street and then I hear it. A rumble that settles in my bones in all the wrong ways. For a moment, I think of turning back, of slipping into the shadow of the pine trees.
“Run!” I say.
But it’s too late. The engine speeds up, and I know he’s seen us.
Maggie and I are bolting across, but he’s going to be right on us. It’s a straight shot to her house from here. He’ll know there’s nowhere else we could be going.
I change my mind and reach for Maggie’s hand. “Let’s double around. We’ll go by the doughnut shop.”`
Blake’s already approaching the intersection when we change directions. The car starts to turn, but he’s going too fast. The tires slip, and I hear the rapid thud-thud-thud of antilock brakes kicking in. He tries to swing back to the right, but the Mustang shudders on the slick pavement. The rear fender squirrels to the left. Too far left.
He’s going to hit something.
I jerk Maggie the rest of the way across the street, my fingers curling hard in her jacket. I can see Blake through the windshield, his face pale and tight with fear. And, just like that, he hits. The right front fender slams into a telephone poll. The smash of metal into wood is like a scream.
And then it’s over.
***
All is quiet and still. The only thing moving is the airbag sagging behind the windshield. I hold my breath and watch it, looking for Blake.
“Is everyone all right?”
Maggie and I spring apart in shock, looking up. There’s an older guy looking down at us. He’s still zipping his coat up over his pajamas, so he must have heard the wreck.
“Are you all right?” he repeats. “Did you get hurt?”
“Yes,” I say, pointing at the wreck automatically. “No, we’re fine. It’s—”
The sound of Blake’s door grinding open chokes my words off. I see one of his feet hit the ground outside the car. Then a second one. Maggie’s grip on me tightens.
“Blake? Is that you?”
Someone else has pulled up. She’s got a coat pulled around her and a scarf knotted at her neck. I don’t know her, but she looks like someone’s mom. Behind her, I see the gray minivan she obviously just stepped out of.
“Honey, are you all right?” she asks, gingerly crossing the road.
“I already called the police,” the guy says. We are instantly forgotten as he walks into the street, checking out the front of Blake’s car with a low whistle. “I’ll call for a tow too.”
Blake steps out of the car then, and his gaze doesn’t stay on his rescuers. He looks past the wrecked car and the melting snow and the people who are gathered in close. Instead he looks at me. His eyes go as hard as Maggie’s grip on my arm.
The mom-type touches his sleeve. “Sweetheart, let me call your mom.”
I see the resignation in his eyes. Because he can’t just leave his wrecked car and chase me through town. He’s stuck here with the concerned neighbors and the police who are already en route. And I can’t help but to smirk at him before I turn away.
“Come on,” I say, as I tug Maggie along with me.
“Wait,” she says quietly. “The police.”