Sparkly platforms.
No, no, no.
I run back outside at the same time that Ryke exits the bathroom—without Daisy on his arm. He doesn’t hesitate or stop. He guides us to a long narrow hallway that appears reserved for staff.
“We should check outside,” Lo tells him. “She may have found the exit.”
“I want to be sure she’s not here,” Ryke says.
A door ends the hallway. And it’s literally markedemployees only. Lo grabs Ryke’s arm before he rushes inside.
“We’re going to be thrown out of the club, and then we’re never going to find her.”
I pale.
And they both look down at me. I realize I squeaked, a petrified sound escaping.
“You two stay out here then,” Ryke says. “I’ll go in. If someone throws me out, then you run down the fucking hallway and disappear in the crowd.”
“Fine.” But I hear Lo mutter, “I’m going to have to bail my brother out of Mexican jail.”
Ryke turns the knob, and he peeks inside a little. His chest rises in a strong inhale, and he motions for us to come inside with him.
We trust Ryke enough to listen, heading through the doorway. And then we stop.
The door clicks shut behind us.
We must be in some sort of break room. Red couches fill the large space, a television and pinball machine on oneside. Graffiti—or really nauseating neon-colored artwork—is sprayed on the walls.
The room is empty except for one blonde girl who has her feet on the couch cushions. She bounces a little and slaps the graffiti image of a window on the wall.
I’m just really, really glad no one else is in this room. And that all of her clothes are on.
Ryke nears my sister. “Daisy,” he says slowly.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles weakly. “Hi, Ryke.” She points to the painted window. “Did you know this window doesn’t work?” She tries to grab at the picture. “It won’t open.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
She plops on the couch and touches her head like she’s spinning. “Well…” She swallows hard. “I learned that the blue stuff was absinthe…so…I think I might be high.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah…” She blinks a couple times, trying to force open her heavy eyes. “And that door…that door was not the exit.” A spike of fear breaches her voice. She knows she’s not completely coherent and she was all alone.
My fearless, daring sister is afraid.
Because this was not her choosing.
I’m about to go to her, but I stop. Ryke has already reached the couch, and when her gaze trains on him fully, her face begins to break in slow, liberating relief.
“Hey,” he says, gauging her state.
“Hey.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Dais, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He brings her to her feet, and her legs quake.
She nods repeatedly, trying to believe it herself.
