JACQUARIOUS

The two of us turned to go, stepping back out into the hallway. We headed for the double doors amid the bustle of artificial lights buzzing through their plastic covers, rolling carts topped with pill bottles that knocked together, frazzled voices spewing medical jargon a mile a minute:

"...with two doses of epinephrine..." came one voice.

"...fourth nosebleed victim this week..." came another.

"...can't get the pharmacologist on the line..."

"...washed the wound, but the pruritic discharge..."

"...blood pattern was more consistent with a knife..."

"...couldn't get him to stay long enough to..."

I shivered against it all, shook my head, felt TaKylar's hand wrap around my own. "You did great," she mused. "DeWayne's gonna be fine."

I looked up at her, smiled back as we pressed our way through the double doors letting out into the main lobby.

We strode past the reception desk, TaKylar waving at the secretary, and headed for the exit.

Just as we reached the glass and prepared to push through, the heavy thud of deliberate footsteps echoed out behind us.

I paused, turned to see two guys in basketball jerseys standing with hands in their pockets. The one on the right was the taller of the two—with cocoa brown hair and bronzed amber eyes, his built frame appeared just a few inches over six feet.

His companion, less muscular with smoother brown hair that curled at its ends, stood just a bit shorter than I was and wore a broad smile as he stared back at me and TaKylar.

"Hey," the taller guy said, raising a single palm to wave. "It's...it's Jacquarious, right?"

How does he know my name? "Uh, yeah," I hesitated. "Sorry...have we met before?"

He chuckled once and shook his head. "Nah, man. Not officially anyway."

I gulped. "Not officially?"

He chuckled again. "It's actually kind of a long story, but...I guess we technically have this one to thank." He nudged the other guy in the jersey beside him.

I glanced to TaKylar, saw a look of bewilderment on her face that no doubt matched my own.

"We're from Goldengate," the shorter guy said.

"Yeah," affirmed the taller. "Today was your first day, right?"

"I...um...yeah," I managed. "I...transferred. From Browning Heights."

"Nice, man! Welcome to the City of Gold." The taller one took a step closer, extended a hand for me to shake. "I'm Dash, and this is Grey. I think we've all got the same English class together."

I hesitated at first, but I finally stuck out my own hand to shake Dash's. "Nice to meet you guys," I said. "Oh, and this is my best friend. TaKylar."

She waved petitely and gave a sweet smile.

I paused. "So I...I guess I'm still not clear on one thing. Did you guys...follow me here from school?"

Dash glanced off, and Grey nodded sheepishly.

"...It was my idea," Grey admitted in a low voice.

Huh? I quirked a brow.

His eyes darted away as he raised a single hand, scratching at the back of his neck. "I guess it sounds kinda stupid when you say it out loud, but...yeah, we followed you."

"We watched you play ball, too," Dash added. "And dude, you've got serious skill."

Have these guys been stalking me all day? "Um...thanks?"

"You should consider trying out for Goldengate's varsity team. We could really use someone like you."

I nodded slowly. "I'll...I'll think about it. Thanks a lot." I shot another uncertain glance at TaKylar.

She turned to the two boys and smiled again. "Well, we should probably get going. It was great meeting all of you. And, um...yeah. We'll see you around."

Dash nodded once, and Grey waved.

With a single hand, TaKylar pushed open the exit door, let the cold wind brush inside and scatter through the stiff lobby air.

****

"Well, that was weird," TaKylar mused as she slid into the passenger seat of my car, the icy wind of the hospital parking lot howling just beyond the windows.

I shook my head. "You're telling me."

She hesitated. "Look, Jacquarious..."

I turned to her.

"I'm sorry about today." Her eyes fell. "When I invited you to Marvin's house, I was hoping to help you unwind, not freak you out even more. I...didn't know DeWayne would be there."

"Hey, stop that." I placed my hand on top of hers. "It wasn't your fault what happened." I sighed. "Besides, if we hadn't been there, who knows what would've happened to him?"

"That's true," she said wistfully. "I just wish we'd been able to help you relax a little more."

"Don't sweat it," I managed, shivering as I shook my head again. "Anything beats last night."

TaKylar's eyes darted away. "Did you ever tell your parents what happened?"

I gulped. "No, not yet."

"I get it," she exhaled. "It's scary."

"So, um...do you know if they've found any leads?" I asked. "You said that cop guy gave you his number, right?"

"Yeah, but he hasn't called since this morning. The last I heard, they're thinkin' the whole thing mighta been a drug deal gone wrong, but he said he really couldn't get into anymore details with me." She grabbed her phone and clicked it on. "And actually, I think I'm supposed to check in with him pretty soon."

"Check in?"

"Oh, since my parents are still outta town, he wanted to make sure I was staying safe. Gave me his number and told me to call him tonight." She held up a card printed with the words Goldengate Police Department and the name Gavin Longchamp, Officer.

"Wow, that's really thoughtful." I smiled. "As usual, everybody loves TaKylar."

She giggled, lowering her eyes. "To be fair, he did say I should give you his number too."

I smiled again, laughing this time. "That's only because you're so charismatic. The fact that I was there was just collateral."

"See, spouting all those big words is the real reason you got moved to Goldengate." She held up a single index finger knowingly.

"Oh, shut up," I said, grinning.

She glanced around, eyes peering through both windows. "So are we just gonna sit in this parking lot or what?" She giggled. "Maybe I should call Officer Longchamp and tell him you're holding me hostage."

I chuckled at that. "Right." I twisted the keys in the ignition, and the engine whirred alive.

"Hey," TaKylar piped up as we began inching out of the parking space, as my gaze fixed on the car's backing camera. "What's...an untold story?"

"Huh?" I quirked a brow, asphalt crunching beneath my tires.

TaKylar twisted left and reached to the backseat, grabbing a sheet of paper from on top of the folders haphazardly spilling through my backpack's zipper. "Honors English Lit, first period," she read aloud.

"Oh, that," I said as we made it to the parking lot exit. "Yeah, it's for my English class. We're supposed to write an essay tonight about an 'untold story.'" I sighed. "Honestly, with all the craziness happening, I've barely even thought about it. I'll probably just string something together when I get home."

TaKylar giggled lightly. "Man, what I wouldn't give to be able to do that—just go home, 'string something together,' then get an A-plus." She flipped over the page in her hand. "Y'all's teacher really gave you one day to write a whole essay?"

I nodded. "Technically, not even a whole day. It's due at midnight."

"That's insane," she breathed. "I guess the rumors about Goldengate Academy are true. Tough as nails." TaKylar flung the paper to the backseat. "So what're you gonna write about?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm sure I'll think of something. Right now, I just wanna get home."

TaKylar hesitated. "Well...what if you wrote about what happened last night?"

I gasped. "W-what?"

"Like don't give up your name or anything, just...tell the truth."

"The teacher's gonna know it's me. It doesn't matter if I use my name in the essay—"

"Then maybe she'll think it's fake. I mean, that outline thing said it can be made up; it just has to be 'untold.'"

"I don't know..."

"Jacquarious, come on. You've been going a mile a minute since yesterday and haven't even told your parents what happened yet. Don't tell me some part of you doesn't just wanna sit down in a corner and scream."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then scream with your keyboard. Write what you're itching to say. Pour it all out." She paused, stared into my uncertain eyes as I held them fixed on the road ahead. "Look, this may just be me trying to make up for the fact that ever since yesterday, it feels like there's blood everywhere we go...but...but I know you love to write. And I know the past twenty-four hours have been awful."

I exhaled, felt my eyebrows furrow across my forehead.

"So maybe...maybe writing'll help you feel better."

I hesitated as we pulled up to a stoplight of shining, velvet red. "Maybe," I whispered.