He’s in there.
I feel sick.
I have to go to him.
I don’t know what is carrying me, but I find myself running toward the building.
It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left him.
I feel Chiamaka dragging me back and I start calling his name, like he’ll hear me inside there.
The flames grow, eating Niveus alive, and I want to scream.
“Terrell,” I yell.
No answer, as expected.
I can’t lose him too… I can’t lose any more people. I feel weak, like I’m about to fall—
“Devon?” someone says. I’m almost positive it’s in my head.
I turn back and Terrell’s there. Right there in front of me, with a matching worried expression on his face. I feel so relieved, I runover to him and pull him in for a hug. Forgetting everything that’s happened. Just hugging him tight, so happy he’s okay. He holds me close and I bury my face in his shoulder, tears falling.
I really thought I’d lost him there.Thank God, you’re okay, Terrell, my thoughts whisper.
I can feel his heart hammering.
After a few moments I pull away, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I thought you were inside,” I tell him.
“I’m okay,” he says, his eyes focused on Chiamaka and not me. “Glad you guys both are too.”
“Really thought you were gone,” Chiamaka says, wiping her eyes. I’m surprised by that. She hardly knows him, yet she’s crying like she was about to lose her good friend. What surprises me even more is her hugging him now.
Sirens wail in the distance and I turn toward the sound. Ambulances are parking next to the fire trucks.
“We should head back before the police arrive,” Terrell says.
I nod.
“You’re right.”
The last thing I want to deal with is any police officers.
We end up in Terrell’s bedroom soon after.
He sets up a makeshift sheet-fort and gives us something to change into. I’m wearing one of his Superman shirts and sweats. Chiamaka told her parents that she’s okay and she’s staying at a friend’s. She’s now wearing a plaid set of PJs that Terrell apparently owns, even though I’ve never seen him wear anything so normal, other than his outfit from earlier tonight.
We all sit in the fort talking about tonight—the protesters and the fire and the shady journalist. I refrain from sayingI told you so. I knew it was too good to be true, too easy. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted another stranger. Niveus can buy anyone, of course they can.
We should have known that. But at least we do now.
At least there’s that.
I’m just so exhausted. I’m ready to sleep forever, but we stay up till one talking. We conclude that the protesters were probably there because of my tweet, and the message I sent about the ball. I hope none of them got hurt. Without them, I don’t know if we’d be here right now.
Maybe Ward would have finished what he started.
“What do you think started the fire?” Chiamaka asks.
