The Overnight Party

Chapter 10

The world spun as Maya catapulted herself off the sidewalk into a tangle of overgrown bushes. The screech of brakes filled her ears, followed by the retreating roar of an engine. She lay trembling in the prickly undergrowth, the smell of damp leaves and crushed earth mingling with the sickening stench of fear.

Someone had tried to kill her. Someone knew how close she was getting to the truth.

Rough hands gripped her shoulders, startling her out of the icy depths of shock. "Maya, are you okay? Oh god, it almost . . . Are you hurt?"

Ethan. His voice, usually so calm, was laced with a raw fear she'd never heard before. His eyes were wide, filled with concern. Or was it something else?

"I'm fine," she choked out, pushing herself out of the bushes, flinching away from his outstretched hand. "What are you doing here?"

A shadow crossed Ethan's face, a momentary flicker of darkness amidst his concern. "I saw you riding. I needed to talk to you."

"Funny coincidence," she spat, brushing leaves and dirt from her jeans. "Seems like everyone in this town knows my every move."

"Don't make me the villain here, Maya," he retorted, his voice sharp. "Someone just tried to turn you into roadkill."

He was right. The danger was real, closing in from all sides. But was Ethan a protector, or another menacing silhouette lurking in the darkness? Maya shivered, her fear turning to icy resolve. She needed to get to the bottom of this.

Maya's heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pulse of fear coursing through her veins. The streetlights cast eerie, elongated shadows, making the familiar neighborhood seem alien and sinister. Her gaze darted from side to side, each rustle of leaves a potential sign of her attacker lurking in the darkness.

"Take me back to Mariner's Rest," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the end of the street, as if expecting the sedan to reappear.

"Maya, are you sure? Maybe you should stay at my place tonight, just to be safe."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Safe? Where's safe anymore, Ethan?" She didn't wait for him to respond.

"I just want this nightmare to be over."

Ethan helped Maya to her feet. She looked at her jeans, now torn at the knees where she'd scraped herself on the pavement. Her midriff top was ripped at the sleeves where the thorny bushes scratched at the material and cut open her skin. Small cuts. Her adrenaline kept her from feeling the pain, though she was sure she'd feel it tomorrow.

Once steady on her feet, Ethan brushed the leaves and twigs from her shoulders as she looked at her bike. The front rim was bent, the tire flat.

She cursed under her breath. At least she was alive. No broken bones.

Ethan followed silently, their footsteps a discordant rhythm on the cracked pavement. The silence hung between them, heavy and accusatory. Maya knew if she looked at him, she'd see the questions lurking in his eyes, a reflection of her own doubts.

The air crackled with unspoken suspicion.

The walk back was a tense affair. Maya wheeled her mangled bike, the warped metal a stark reminder of her close brush with death. Ethan walked beside her, his silence filled with an uneasy mixture of concern and suspicion.

Twice, at the sound of a rustling bush or a car speeding down the street, he grabbed her arm protectively. Each time, Maya flinched, the touch a jarring reminder of her vulnerability and the swirling vortex of doubt surrounding them all.

"Do you need a hospital?" His voice broke the silence, tinged with a concern that made her heart ache for the normalcy they had lost.

"I'm shaken up," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But not hurt." She forced a weak smile. "Turns out, I'm better at dodging cars than tackling football players."

A flicker of humor sparked in his eyes, momentarily eclipsing the worry etched upon his face. "Guess Bridgeport can stick to their books and boring sweaters."

It was the closest they'd come to their old banter, and the tension eased a fraction. But even as they approached the edge of town, the weight of the unspoken accusations that lay between them lingered.

"Listen," Ethan began, hesitating as if choosing his words carefully. "There's the game on Friday. Mariner's Rest vs. Bridgeport. On their turf. I'll be heading down anyway, I could swing by and pick you up."

A flash of understanding sparked within Maya. This was an offer, disguised as casual logistics.

"While you're busy with your team, and Mark . . ." her voice trailed off, leaving the rest of her thought hanging in the air. Ethan met her gaze, a flicker of something close to guilt in his eyes.

"You could have time alone," he finished the thought for her. "To investigate."

The warped metal of Maya's bike groaned a mournful dirge as she pushed it alongside Ethan. Each step echoed the hollow sound of her shattered trust. Ethan wasn't just her sidekick anymore; he was a shadow whose true motives were as blurred as the streetlights fading into the encroaching darkness.

"Pick me up for the game on Friday, please" she said, her voice a brittle challenge. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken promises and looming dangers.

Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking from her face to the distant glow of Mariner's Rest. "Places to be, secrets to uncover?" A flicker of mockery danced in his voice, masking a deeper unease. The game was changing. This wasn't about playing detective anymore. This was about survival. "Just be careful," he added. He sounded genuinely worried.

"Something like that," Maya shot back, a spark of defiance igniting within her. The haunting image of Arilla, the mocking glint of the red and black pendant on the silver necklace — these were the demons fueling her.

"Mark and Alex will be on the field with me," Ethan replied, his voice a low murmur. "You might be able to catch them before the game, but once they're on the field, you'll be left to your own motives. Keep your eyes out for Sarah and Emily. They're his best friends. Emily never misses one of Alex's games and Sarah goes wherever Highlanders go." Then he added, unenthusiastically, "Go Highlanders,"

"I'll handle it," she countered, forcing a lightness that betrayed the icy resolve within her. A dark thrill coursed through her veins. She'd find out the truth behind that damn necklace, and she'd expose the voice whispering threats behind Arilla's back.

She'd be safe there, surrounded by large crowds at the football game. What could happen?