The sun hit Troy’s silver thumb ring, sending light bouncing around the car. “We don’t have to do this now. I can get the album later.”
Good thing she was an expert at forcing down her problems and acting like everything was cool. “Nonsense. We’re already here, and I’ll feel better once I get my blood pumping. Plus, you promised there would be fries.”
He smiled, easing the concern in his features. “So, so many fries.”
For the first time all day, she found herself smiling for real. Being around Troy calmed her, and she could use a lot of help in that department. She got out of the car and met Troy on the sidewalk.
The chime over the door rang as they pushed inside the record store. Summer inhaled the air that only a mix of old and new records could bring. Aisles of records filled the place, treasures she’d love to take home. Only she usually chose CD or digital versions, whereas Troy had a record player and the collection to go with it.
His album would be waiting behind the counter, but he walked to the shelves and started to flip through them. Summer stuck next to him, watching his expressions as he took in each album. He wrinkled his nose. Nodded at the next one. Pulled out an old Aerosmith album—Pump—and ran his hand across the cover, which basically looked like one truck humping another.
“Already have this one, though,” he said, more to himself she thought, then put it back.
“One of your dad’s?”
He nodded. A large part of his collection had been his dad’s, though he avoided talking about the guy for the most part. In fact, he was moving on, obviously not wanting to say anything else about the subject.
Summer drifted in the other direction. Up front they had buttons and key chains. She was definitely ready to get rid of her clunky one. As she spun through the rack, though, her thoughts drifted back to Ashlyn. Days ago she’d been laughing and hanging out with Ashlyn, thinking how awesome it was to find someone who got her. Ashlyn didn’t care when she went off on random tangents. She seemed to like her sarcasm and weird jokes. In fact, she added to them. Laughed along with her.
I’ve never clicked with anyone like I’ve clicked with her. Her heart was folding in on itself again, the ickiness spreading throughout her insides once more.
There had to be a way around it. A way to make up for the lives she couldn’t save. She was sure if she concocted a good enough plan, she could find a way to change the future. To keep Ash alive.
“How about that one?” Troy asked.
Summer hadn’t even heard him come over. She followed his finger and saw him pointing to a keychain that said, I’m not crazy. ask my invisible friend. He reached down and picked up another. cute but psycho, kind of evens things out.
The first one seemed like a joke, but now worry was taking hold. Had other people noticed she was starting to lose it? “Why would you suggest those?”
“Well, this one because you’re cute, and this one because you’re a little crazy.” Troy nudged her. “Come on, it’s a joke.”
Right. If it was a joke it might be funny. “I think I’ll just keep the one I have. Or take it off. I don’t really need a keychain. It’s not like I can’t find my keys as long as I have the canister of mace attached to them.”
The urge to get out of the store overwhelmed her. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be in here anymore.”
“One sec. Gotta buy my stuff first.”
Summer twisted a strand around her hair as she waited, shifting her wait from one foot to another. Troy was laughing with the cashier, in no hurry whatsoever. Summer kept glancing at the door. Her pulse was picking up speed. She needed out of here. Now.
She started for the door.
Troy caught up to her as she was pushing out of it. “I should’ve known you had a time limit before the need for fries caught up to you.”
As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Summer bumped into a man who’d been walking the other direction.
The man’s head drops down. Pops back up. His eyes droop again, and his head dips further down. The car veers right, narrowly missing another car. Slams into the concrete, the metal peeling away from the barrier. His head hits the steering wheel, his right side—arm, leg—lost in a sea of metal. He takes a few gasping breaths for air, wheezing and coughing. His last breath slips past his bloody lips.
Summer’s vision cleared and she stared up at the man. “If you’re tired, you should drink a Redbull or something,” she blurted at him, half-angry, half-desperate.
His brow furrowed. “You bumped into me.”
She flung her arms up. “I’m not talking about here on the sidewalk! I’m talking about before you drive anywhere.”
Looking at her like she was she was a lunatic, he shook his head. “What’s wrong with you?”
Summer jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m serious. This isn’t a joke. You could endanger other people. You could kill somebody.” Then her job came to mind. “And have you made peace with your family? You don’t want to leave them wondering if you care about them.”
Troy grabbed her hand and tugged her away. The man stared after her, mouth hanging open. She tried to yank out of Troy’s grasp, but his fingers tightened, and she had no choice but to force her feet to follow. After a couple of large strides, he spun around, his green eyes searching her face. “What was that all about?”
The ground spun under her, and her knees felt like they might buckle. Black spots danced across her vision, and then came the icy, black feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and rose up to settle in her chest. She gripped Troy’s arms, holding onto him so she wouldn’t fall, and tried to blink the world back into focus.
When it did, Troy was still staring at her, apparently waiting for an answer.
“He…He looked tired,” Summer said. “Did you know falling asleep at the wheel is one of the leading causes of death?” When she started seeing people dying, morbid curiosity drove her to research those kinds of things.
“The poor guy was just walking down the sidewalk, and you went off on him. He didn’t even look that tired.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the man walking in the opposite direction, and she was pretty sure he was muttering something to himself. Summer turned back to Troy. He was still staring at her, concern swimming in his green eyes.
How in the world am I going to explain this? The answer was simple. She wasn’t. Because he’d never believe the real explanation.
She slowly released the death-grip she had on Troy and took a deep breath. “Well, I’m tired. Let’s go get something to eat.” She hoped food would help settle her stomach. It suddenly felt like she hadn’t eaten all day. Like she might even pass out if she didn’t get something soon.
She started toward the restaurant, wishing the food was in her hands already. But Troy’s hand wrapped around her elbow, holding her in place. “I can tell something’s up, you know. Sometimes you seem really happy, then sometimes really low.”
If she turned back to look at him, she was going to burst into tears. So she kept her eyes glued to the streetlight flashing for pedestrians to go and said, “Congratulations, you’ve just described every girl on the planet. If you can’t handle my mood swings, I guess you’ll have to go hang out with your guy friends.” She yanked her arm away. “But for now, your moody friend would like some fries.”
This time Troy didn’t stop her; he simply followed.
They ordered their food, not bothering with small talk while they waited. Finally, the food came, and even though her stomach was still rolling, she was also starving. But no matter how much Summer ate, she still felt empty. The nightmares would come tonight. They always did after a brush with someone else’s death.