“Shit,” Samiah said.
She changed out of her shorts and into a pair of jeans, but didn’t bother to change out of her ratty Rice University T-shirt. If Taylor was spread out on the ground with a sprained back, she wouldn’t care about Samiah’s clothes.
She grabbed her keys and locked the door behind her, pulling up London’s number as she made her way to the elevator. She pressed her name, but ended the call before it could ring. Taylor would have tried contacting London first, especially if she was hurt. London must be in surgery.
Samiah rushed to the parking garage and got into her car, thankful she was only a few minutes from the park. It was just after three p.m., so traffic on Barton Springs Road should still be relatively light. She considered dialing 911but thought better of it. She wasn’t sure what type of emergency situation she was facing.
She turned into the entrance and wound her way up the drive, paying the two-dollar entrance fee and ducking into the first parking space. There were only three other cars parked. That’s probably why Taylor had contacted her; there was no one around to hear her yelling for help.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Samiah mumbled as she walked past the welcome center.
I’m here, she texted.Where are you?
Japanese Gardens. Look for the Post-its.
Samiah stopped short.
Post-its?
She stared at the message for a heartbeat before swiping her finger across the touchscreen and calling Taylor’s number.
She answered on the first ring.
“Go to the first post at the start of the trail, just behind the welcome center. Follow the Post-its,” Taylor said. Then she hung up.
What in the hell was going on? If Taylor had pulled her away from her app for some kind of game, she just might have to fight her in the middle of this damn park.
Okay, so that was a lie. Taylor was in much better shape than her. Samiah knew her friend would kick her ass if they went head to head. Still, she would cuss her out over this.
She walked up to the first post. It contained a small plaque with an arrow pointing to the Isamu Taniguchi Japanese Garden. There was a yellow Post-it Note just below the plaque.
I tried to explain.
Samiah immediately recognized that handwriting, and her heart began to thump harder within her chest. She walked another few yards until she came to the next Post-it stuck to the stone gate at the entrance of the Japanese gardens.
I never meant to lie.
She continued walking, snatching another sticky note from the smooth trunk of a slender tree that stood just to the left of the trail and then from another tree on her right.
If I could do it all again.
I would do things differently.
She reached the entryway of the Ten Wa Jin Teahouse. The stone-and-bamboo structure stood as the centerpiece of the serene gardens, the view of the Austin skyline from its rear window one of the best in the city. London and Taylor stood side by side just inside the tiny building.
London handed her one note:
I’m sorry.
Taylor handed her another:
Please forgive me.
“You?” Samiah said, after taking the Post-it from her. She turned to London. “And you?”
“Before you start, let me explain my role in this little exercise that could get us all arrested for vandalism,” London said.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “I told you a few sticky notes do not count as vandalism—”
