“I’m sorry, Amanda, I can’t talk,” I said, stepping around her to get into the elevator. I hoped she wouldn’t follow me, but she did, stepping into the elevator after me and pressing the button to the ground floor. “I have to be at work.”
She said nothing to this, only stared at me as the elevator jerked and began to sidle down. I kept a fair distance between us—as fair as possible, anyway—keeping my arms and bag folded over my chest in case she tried to jump me again. But honestly, I wasn’t even sure how much of her was even there. Her eyes were hazy and tired, and while she didn’t speak directly to me, she was mumbling something under her breath.
“Amanda,” I said patiently, shifting nervously on my feet. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“No doctor,” she said, lifting one hand to run it through her hair. Her fingers were trembling, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m fine, Peter, I’m fine. I’m fine, Peter.”
“Peter?” I repeated. “Who is Peter, Amanda? It’s Korbin.”
Her eyes met mine just then and she smiled, a smile so big, and so strange, that it seemed almost out of touch with reality. “Hi, Korbin,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean?” I asked her. “I live here.”
“Yes,” she said softly as the elevator landed. Before the doors could open to let us out, Amanda lunged forward and hit the panic button on the door, successfully sealing us inside momentarily.
“What are you doing?” Amanda didn’t scare me per say, but if she was truly as crazy as I was finding out she was, I didn’t exactly want to be trapped alone in an elevator with her, either.
“Where’s Peter?” she asked, wheeling her body around to face me once more. “Where is he, Korbin?”
“Amanda, I don’t know who Peter is or where he is,” I said steadily. “I’m sorry. Can you tell me what you took?”
“Took where?” she asked, confused, and I stepped forward, holding my hand out in case she wanted to take it and come back to reality.
“Drugs,” I said. “Have you been taking drugs?”
“Drugs,” Amanda repeated, tilting her head curiously to the side. “No, Peter, I won’t take the drugs, okay? They screw me up—make it hard to think.”
“Amanda—”
“No, Peter!” she shrieked, lashing out suddenly like she intended to barrel me over. I caught her before she could, holding her tight around the shoulders so she couldn’t wiggle free.
“I’m going to call an ambulance,” I told her, reaching for the open door button on the elevator wall with my free hand while Amanda struggled in my clutch. “You need help.”
She shrieked like a banshee as the doors opened and we tumbled out. I lost my grip on her momentarily, and Amanda ripped out from under my clutch, stumbling for the front door as I got my leg tangled gracefully in the strap on my duffel bag.
“Wait!” I called to her, but it was too late. She was gone, running down the sidewalk to who knows where, leaving me sitting on the tile floor in my own building trapped by my very own bag, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
I was still fuming with confusion when I got to work that morning, and Paisley found me first, putting my things quietly in the locker.
“You okay?” she asked. “You looked rattled.”
“Yeah, no, I’m good.”
I knew she didn’t believe me, she never did. “Did something happen with Peyton?” she prodded. “Did you go and see her last night like you said you would?”
I laughed despite myself. “Yes, actually, I did.”
“And she didn’t kick you to the curb?”
“Not this time.”
“Hmmm.” Paisley turned to face me, folding her arms over her chest. “Then it must be something else that has you on edge.” Just then Hansen joined us in the locker room, kicking off his tennis shoes to put his work boots on instead.
“Whoa, Korbin,” he said, eyebrows shooting up when he saw me. “You look like someone kicked your dog.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Paisley with a shrug. “But he won’t come out with it.”
“Alright, both of you, be quiet,” I said softly, turning to glare at them. “I don’t think the whole station has to know yet.”
