9
Raya
Raya’s mind was reeling. She pushed herself hard against the burned-out shell of the bus; the soft gray ash coated her clothes, her arms, her face. She didn’t care. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to breathe—willing her heart to slow down.
Ellis was talking, but she couldn’t make out his words. There was too much in her head.Someone was shooting at them.
Panic rose up inside, overwhelming her.
Instinctively her fingers reached out for her wrist, pushing her long black sleeve up, feeling for the scar. It was there. It was always there. It was a part of her; it would never leave her. She touched it gently, the jagged surface stretched across her pale skin.
I survive.She squeezed against the line hard.No matter how bad things get. No matter what happens. I survive.She could feel her life’s blood, her heart beating through her fingertips, through the skin.No matter what happens. I will survive.
The panic receded. She breathed out slowly, a long shaky breath.Then forced her eyes open. Ellis was still talking, but she blanked him out. She had to hold on to her own thoughts. The bus…the metal. It would stop bullets, wouldn’t it? They weren’t in any immediate danger. They had time. It was okay. It had to be.
“We’ve got to get inside the motel, with the others.” Raya nodded to herself as she said it. “We’ll be safe there.”
“Fuck that.” Ellis sounded subdued, his natural authority shaken. “There’s no way we can make it from here to the building without getting shot. It’s a solid fifty-foot sprint.”
“You can make it,” Raya said. “You’re fast.”
“Faster than a bullet? It would be suicide.” Ellis shook his head.
“Maybe we could make some kind of shield?” Raya looked around. The only likely piece of metal was the bus door, which was still dangling off the frame precariously.
“I’m not staking my life on a piece of metal,” Ellis snapped. “We don’t know if it would stop a bullet.”
“What are we going to do? Maybe…maybe the others will see. Maybe they’ll rescue us.” She was reaching, but she didn’t know what else to do.
“I can’t believe this. I can’t.” Ellis was clenching his fists. “We’re stuck here. We should have left last night. Suchfucking idiots.”
“How could we have known?” Raya said.
“I don’t know, but we should have. I knew this was off. I could feel it. I should have trusted my instincts. Not listened to Jax and the rest of you.”
“Don’t blame us, Ellis. You’re a big boy. You make your own choices, unless your daddy makes them for you…”
“Don’t.” Somehow Ellis managed to fill one syllable with menace. Raya raised her hand placatingly and backed off. Enough lines had been crossed today.
They both fell quiet.
Jesus, she didn’t want to die here, with Ellis of all people. What an ending. Shot dead in the arms of the school’s biggest douchebag. She’d rather run across the line and go out in a blaze of independent glory.
“S’up?”
The voice made her jump. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Raya looked around.
Caden was standing in the open near a prickly-pear bush, completely unprotected, staring at them.
“Oh my god, no,” Raya gasped. “Caden, get down! Run! There’s a shooter.” She stood up, waving her arms violently in the air.
Ellis jumped up too.
“Get back! You’ll get shot. Run!” They both waved desperately, trying to steer Caden away.
Caden squinted back at them, then gave a short wave. His eyes were red; he was swaying slightly—clearly high. He must have spent the night sampling his way through his merch.
“All right, all right…I’m coming.” Oblivious to the danger, he started walking towards the bus, mumbling as he went. “I’m coming already.”
