Jay
So, Jay was alive? Out there somewhere, waiting? Or did he pen this letter, knowing he’d be risking his life for me? Was he a ghost?
I lay in bed with the paper pressed close to my chest. This was all I had of him.
If Jay was not really dead, that opened numerous possibilities. Someone would be bailing me out of here, in a way that may or may not be cryptic. It may or may not be illegal. In any case, I had to prepare for our biggest stunt yet.
I was wandering around my cell, finding small ways to occupy myself. I had nothing here, so I mostly relied on remembering good times I’d had in Mr. Wallace’s shop. Had I known I’d endup here one day, I may not have complained so much about being there.
I’d just begun to laugh at one of his old jokes when the earth shook, throwing me off balance.
BOOM!An explosion rocked the foundation of the precinct.
I froze as I sat up in bed and a burning smell filled the precinct. There was a ringing in my ears, followed by a commotion. I heard grunts and whacks, like people were fighting. Smoke flooded the hallway outside of my cell.
The fighting noises continued as a masked man came and unlocked my cell, with the keys they’d stolen from the guard. I could tell who it was by his skin and eyes through the mask.
“Zihan?” I said.
“Come quickly before they call for backup,” Zihan responded.
I followed him out to the front room of the precinct. It was a mess of wood, brick, and smoke, one wall completely blown off to open it to the street. The bricks around the big opening formed stepping stairs, crumbling with flames on their tips. Two cops lay unconscious on the floor—one of them Cannon Cleary—and another guard was tied up and blindfolded, wiggling around in his restraints.
Across the street outside, a horse reared its legs up between a police car and streetlamp, and Daisy was pulling the reins to bring her back down. She must have gotten it from one of the stables near the precinct. I knew this must be what Jay arranged, and I wanted to run out and hug her.
But I had to make one stop before leaving. I lifted the key ringoff Cannon’s waist and went to the evidence lockers, located at the back of the precinct.
They were big silver compartments built in the wall, and each key on the ring matched a letter in the locker. This was where they kept evidence, which meant it was where they’d store money related to crime.
I unlocked the doors one by one until finally I found six bags filled with bands of dollar bills. I removed the bags from the lockers.
There were sirens in the distance. More cops would be here soon for backup. If ever there was a time to flee, it would be now.
I ran out with the bags to the main room where I met Zihan. “We have to leave New York,” I said. “It’s time!”
Zihan looked at me, his face set in a careful, unreadable expression.
The sirens were getting louder, closing in. The pressure was building.
Zihan stepped closer, and calmly, he said, “I won’t be joining you.”
“What? You have to. What about everything that’s happened?” I said, gesturing around us. “How will you get away with this?”
Zihan smiled wistfully. “New York doesn’t care. It is too big. Too busy. People come, people go. People forget who you were and what you did, as long as you keep moving.” He grabbed my shoulders in support. “You don’t get that in places like Oklahoma. But you go. Quickly—before they get here.”
I stood there, struck silent for a moment, feeling the weight ofpossibly never seeing Zihan again. It was hard to bear, but this place was right for him, even if I didn’t belong. Maybe the city still had space for him to reinvent himself even if I didn’t feel the same.
I dropped the bags and pulled him into a hug. Our bodies became like two logs on fire in contrast to the chilly night air.
“I will be okay,” Zihan whispered into my neck. “And so will you! I hope you and Jay get married.”
I pulled away from him and we both laughed. “Thank you, my friend,” I said as the sirens were getting louder, closing in. “You always remind me there is hope beneath the messes I make.”
A whistle blew through the night. I turned to find Daisy beckoning me across the street. I gave Zihan one last glance goodbye, and we ran our separate ways—he to flee the scene at the precinct and me to meet Daisy and the horse.
They were waiting by a blue mailbox and a shop. I attached half the bags to the stirrup on the horse’s saddle, and then I strapped the rest over my arms. I stuck my foot through the foothold and then threw my leg over the horse.
“Ready?” Daisy asked.
