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Amber Blake is having dreams, and they just might be the key to saving her best friend, Mark.
Unfortunately, she's too preoccupied pretending to hate the boy next door, Carter Hayes. Secretly hoping to rekindle what once was, Amber atte...
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We hit traffic the whole way across town, but none of it compares to the pile up on Darren's street now. Every model of car clogs up the turn off for his driveway, and just eyeballing it, I can tell we're not moving anytime soon. I wish the numbers on the clock would follow our lead; my panic spikes as it ticks past the eight o'clock mark.
"Jeez, all of Susquehanna has to be here," Carter mutters, leaning over the steering wheel.
"We're not gonna make it." I snap my phone shut once my text to Darren goes through. After my first seven calls, they started going straight to voicemail, meaning he probably turned off his phone. I can only hope he checks it again over the next hour. "Once you park, meet me inside. Keep an eye out for Mark in the meantime."
Deja vu strikes as Carter locks the door before I can jump out. "Hang on, you're leaving me here? I can't just sit and wait while you go looking for them, not after you dropped the whole drug dealer bomb on me."
It wasn't the full bomb, just a baby nuke to stop his questioning. It had been enough to explain Mark's side hustle and the deal going down tonight without mentioning what exactly they're selling and the policy that goes with it.
"Too bad. We don't have time to argue about it, especially when we both know I'm gonna do what I want anyway."
"What if Darren gets pissed at you for interfering? I wouldn't put it past him to hit a girl, and at a party with all his friends, who knows what he'll do to save face if you bust him."
I yank on the handle impatiently. "He won't! Darren's not going to hurt me, but I can't say the same for Mark if I don't find them. Now please, the door."
Raking a hand through his hair, Carter gives me an exasperated look. "This isn't making sense, Amber. You're talking like they're about to enter a deal with Pablo Escobar, not a cocaine drop for a couple freshmen. What aren't you telling me?"
I should just tell him — I know I should — but I can't go into explaining Mark's death without touching on the time travel too. Adult Carter barely digested it the first time, and he had a fully formed frontal lobe. As much as I love the kid, the same can't be said now, and I don't wanna risk him holding me here until he gets it the second time around.
