I slid down the wall, gasping, clutching my aching side.
Chase Harding stood over me, his chest heaving, his face contorted in a mix of rage and panic. He looked down at the phone on the pavement.
"You think you can just walk away with what belongs to my family?" Chase hissed.
He took a slow step back, letting out a breath that sounded more like a relief than a laugh.
Behind him, Trent, Brody, and Kyle appeared. They didn't even look angry. They just looked entertained. As if rehearsed, all three of them pulled out their smartphones and pointed the lenses directly at me. The bright screens illuminated the dim alley, boxing me in with social pressure.
"Look at him," Kyle mocked, keeping his camera steady on my slumped form. "Not so brave now."
Chase smirked, the color returning to his face. He bent down and scooped up the phone from the pavement.
"Nobody goes through my family's business," Chase said, slipping the phone into his letterman jacket. "Keep your mouth shut, ghost, or the next time we meet, I won't be so polite."
He turned his back on me, signaling to his followers that the show was over. Trent and Brody laughed, lowering their phones and turning to follow their leader out of the alley.
They thought they had won. They thought they had retrieved the explosive piece of evidence.
But as I sat against the brick, waiting for the stinging pain in my ribs to fade, I didn't feel defeated. I felt a cold, sharp sense of clarity.
I placed my hands on the rough concrete and pushed myself up. My muscles ached, but I stood tall, ignoring the dust on my jeans. I stepped away from the wall.
Chase heard the movement and paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
I looked directly into his eyes.
"I know what you're actually terrified of," I said, my voice steady.
Chase’s arrogant smile vanished. He turned fully around, staring at me as if I were a ghost that had just spoken. He patted the pocket of his jacket, where he had just placed the phone.
He didn't realize it yet.
When I reached into my bag during the fall, I hadn't grabbed Maya's neon pink phone. I had grabbed my own cracked, outdated grey phone. I had dropped my own device to the pavement as a decoy.
The neon pink phone was still buried safely at the bottom of my backpack.
Chase stared at me, a profound, chilling uncertainty washing over his face. He wanted to step toward me, to demand answers, but a teacher's car pulled into the far end of the alley, headlights sweeping over us.
Chase swallowed hard, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You don't know anything," he whispered.
Then he turned and practically sprinted down the alley, his goons rushing to keep up.
I waited until they were gone. I picked up my backpack, slinging it carefully over my unbruised shoulder, and walked the remaining six blocks to my apartment.
I locked the deadbolt behind me. My mom wasn't home yet; her shift didn't end until eight. The apartment was silent, smelling of stale coffee and laundry detergent.
I sat at my small desk in the corner of my bedroom. My hands were finally starting to shake as the adrenaline wore off. I unzipped the backpack and pulled out the heavy, neon pink phone.
I plugged it into my wall charger. It powered up immediately.
I tapped the screen, bypassing the old notifications, and clicked on the voice memo app. There was one file saved. It was titled 'October 14'—the night of the crash.
I took a deep breath, hooked up my cheap headphones, and pressed play.
CHAPTER 2
The audio began with a sharp hiss of static, followed instantly by the roar of a high-performance engine being pushed to its absolute limit.
I closed my eyes, the sound filling my ears, pulling me back to that rainy night ten months ago. The sound of heavy rain lashing against a windshield was deafening.
Then, a voice cut through the noise. It wasn't Ryan’s voice.
"Chase, slow down! The road is completely washed out!" Maya’s voice shrieked, laced with genuine terror.
"I've got it, I've got it!" Chase’s voice yelled back, slurred and reckless. "Stop grabbing the wheel!"
"You're going ninety, Chase! Let Ryan drive!"
"Ryan's passed out in the back!" Chase screamed. "I'm not letting him ruin my—"
The audio dissolved into a horrifying screech of tires locking up on wet asphalt. A loud, concussive crunch shattered the recording, followed by the sickening sound of metal tearing and glass raining down.
For ten agonizing seconds, there was only the sound of the rain and the hissing of a ruptured radiator.
Then, coughing.