Icarus (Book 1 of the Reincarnate Series)

Chapter 3

The boys at table five kept Danielle company until opening hours came to a close. They had busied her by asking for Dr. Pepper refills and small chat, to which she politely stepped away from to focus on other tasks. By ten o'clock, they had left the restaurant. Danielle returned to their empty table to check for a tip, finding only a five-dollar bill.

"Cheap kids," She muttered, reaching for the bill. They should have at least tipped her more for the ridiculous amount of time they kept pulling her away from other tables to talk. Stuffing the paper into her back pocket, she returned to the kitchen to help Frank finish washing dishes. They're usual dish washer had called in sick that night, and the rest of the staff avoided the task at all costs. So it had been left to her and Frank. Once they had finished closing completely, the clock on the wall read well past eleven pm.

"Do you have a ride, kid?" Frank questioned as they both pulled on their jackets and turned out the lights. She waited to answer him until they had locked the doors behind them, plunging into the chill air.

She sighed. Frank lived in the next town over in the opposite direction of her house, and would give her rides back home on occasion. She had left her bike at the restaurant on Monday, knowing she would have to pedal home eventually. She didn't like asking Frank to go out of his way. She had accepted his offers to give her rides from school only after his insistence.

"Yeah, I've got my bike. See you tomorrow!"

Frank gave her a look that hinted his protest, but nodded to her and eventually drove off. Danielle, feeling the bite of an impending winter on her bare hands and face, ushered quickly to her padlocked bike at the back of the restaurant. Unlocking the chain looped through a generic padlock, she wrapped it around the center pole beneath her seat and started wheeling the bike away towards the main road. Her breath misted and curled past her cheeks as she walked briskly. It would take about twenty minutes to reach home, peddling fast.

Her coat pulled at her upper arms as she hooked her leg over the bike seat, pushing off loose gravel and wobbling into a smooth pace as her turns brought her onto smooth pavement. Her backpack was secured into the ghetto, bungie strapped file basket behind her. Books clapped together as she glided over bumps and evaded man-holes. The street-lamps along the side of the road came to an end, plunging her into dimness. This part of the ride always sent a chill along her spine, and she peddled harder. The faster she went, the faster she would find a lit path once again.

A sudden bump and loud pop caused her to swerve towards the shoulder of the paved road, tossing her bag into dead weeds and rocks. She barely caught herself before she tumbled to the ground. Her ankle and balls of her feet hollered in pain when she righted herself. Danielle had caught herself just in time, but she knew bruises were now discoloring her legs.

She groaned, leaning over her bike to see her tire deflating, a hiss of air alerting her to the situation. She cursed. Her tire was popped, and she couldn't see what it could have been that caused it. Broken glass, screws, or nails laying haphazardly in the road were all possibilities.

She retrieved her backpack, brushing off pieces of grass and dirt and hoisting it back into the basket. Frustrated and exhausted from her long shift, she knew she would have to walk. The image of Frank and his van suddenly flitted through her mind, and she retrieved her cellphone from her back pocket. Hope blossomed in her chest as she dialed his number. But after a minute of ringing and reaching his voicemail greeting, dread pooled into her stomach. She dialed her mom and dad, and no one answered. Rae's phone went straight to voicemail, and she assumed it was dead. If she couldn't get a hold of anyone, she would have to walk.

Might as well walk until someone answers me, she concluded, pushing her bike into motion. The night air nipped at her exposed fingers and cheeks. It stung as the minutes dragged by, with every step. Today was just not her day.