Chapter Sixteen
The day of Ryder’s graduation was one of the worst Carly remembered in a long time.
Her day started with sending a text to Ryder begging him to talk to her or at least let her attend his commencement.
She’d received a terse response. “Don’t ever want to see u.
U r not welcome at graduation.” When she tried to reply, she discovered he’d blocked her.
Unable to bear missing her brother graduate, she’d sneaked into the VFW hall wearing a cheap Walmart wig. Then she hid in the back, partially concealed by a pillar, while she prayed Ryder couldn’t see her.
When the mayor started announcing graduates’ names, she listened and waited.
The names rattled in her head. Jana Leona Lister.
Michael Alan Lutz, Jr. Carly peered around the pillar.
Her heart pounding with pride in her brother for all he’d had to overcome, she held her breath, her gaze locked on the stage. Ryder James Maddux.
After watching him receive his diploma, she crept from the hall, tears streaming down her face.
Now tonight, she sat alone on the couch in Reese’s house wearing her pajamas covered with crabs and the words “Crabby in the morning,” her legs curled under her, pretending to watch a predictable made-for-TV horror movie.
If Owen were here, he’d give her the business for watching this one.
While she loved horror films, he detested them.
For every one he watched, she had to suffer through a shoot-’em-up-action film.
Carly glanced at the screen to see the stupid teenager characters taunting the “backwoods hillbillies” in the rusty rattle trap pickup.
One particularly brainless female popped through the sunroof, only to get decapitated by a huge branch.
She could imagine what Owen would’ve said about that scene, That chick is too stupid to live.
She couldn’t hang out the window where it would be safer?
Then he’d have turned to her and bet her ten dollars that none of the teenagers survived the movie.
Tears filled her eyes. Again. Her phone rang, pulling her away from her thoughts, but when she glanced at the screen, she saw Owen’s name.
Her heart pounded with excitement, staring at her phone.
Part of her feared answering and finding out why he called.
Her phone skidded across the end table. What did it matter why he called she thought as she snatched up her cell.
“Ryder would be ticked if he knew about this, but you and your dad need to know,” Owen said after she answered.
She swallowed hard and her heart shrank as the hope he’d called to ask her to reconsider ending things flickered and fizzled out. He called because of Ryder. Then what Owen said sank in. “Ryder? What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Owen explained when Dylan went to leave a graduation party, Ryder said he was in no shape to drive and offered him a ride.
On the way home, Dylan grew paranoid and insisted Ryder leave the highway to outrun the car he imagined following them.
“When Ryder wouldn’t, Dylan grabbed the steering wheel and sent them into a ditch. ”
“Are they hurt?” She couldn’t keep the panic from her voice. She couldn’t lose Ryder before she fixed their relationship.
“They’re fine. Thankfully, they were both wearing seat belts. I’ll pick them up and call a tow truck.”
“Where are they? I’ll meet you.”
“That’s not smart. Ryder still doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ve got to call a tow truck and head out. I’ll update you when I get them home.”
Boy, when she messed up her life, she did a first-rate job.
“You meet Ryder. Tell me where he and Dylan are. I’ll call the tow.”
“That’s all you’ll do?”
Crossing her fingers, she said, “I know where I’m not wanted.”
*
When Owen arrived at old highway fifty-one and FM 653, Dylan was darting around a tree, fending off imaginary attackers with what looked like a broken fence slat, while Ryder hovered nearby. When he joined Ryder, he asked, “What did Dylan take?”
“I don’t know. I asked, but he wouldn’t say.”
“How about you? What’ve you taken tonight?”
“All I’ve had is a couple of beers.”
“Drugs?”
“Nothing. I swear. Not since the bowling alley.” Ryder nodded toward his friend. “When he started acting weird, I couldn’t leave him. Everything was okay until he thought someone was following us.”
“You’re helping a buddy who’s not able to care for himself. That’s a damn fine quality to have.”
“That’s why I called you. I knew you’d get it. The last thing I need is a lecture,” Ryder said.
“I said you can count on me no matter what, and I meant it. Let’s get him in my truck. Then we’ll call his parents and either take him home or meet them at the hospital.”
They approached Dylan still circling the tree fending off imaginary attackers. “Get away from me,” Dylan screamed as he lunged in Owen’s direction waving the wood.
“Calm down, Dylan. Owen’s here to help,” Ryder said, inching closer to his friend. “He’s here to take us home. Come on, let’s go.”
“He’s one of them.” Dylan glanced around, his eyes wide with fear, his body braced to attack. “Did you hear that? He told them where we are. They’re coming to get me. I have to get outta here.”
Whatever the kid had taken had kicked in heavy-duty paranoia and hallucinations. Worried his presence would escalate the situation, Owen tossed his keys to Ryder. “Try to get him to the truck.”
Ryder nodded and moved forward, while Owen faded into the shadows.
“I’ll get you somewhere safe.” Ryder waved the keys and pointed to Owen’s truck. “See, I’ve got a truck waiting. Let’s go.”
“They probably put a tracking device on it.”
Owen inched toward a grove of pine trees, careful to keep his moves slow to avoid drawing Dylan’s attention. Maybe if the kid couldn’t see him, he’d calm down enough for Ryder to coax him into the truck. If they failed, his options were to call the police or use force to get Dylan to go.
“The truck’s clean. I checked it out,” Ryder said. “You can check for yourself but put down the board first.”
“I’ll see for myself, but I’m keeping my sword.”
*
Carly stood hidden among the pine trees watching the scene unfold in front of her.
What were Ryder and Owen thinking dealing with Dylan when he brandished a busted piece of fence like a sword?
They should lock themselves in Owen’s truck and call the police.
She’d give it another minute and she’d call the authorities.
If Dylan hit Owen in the head or knocked him down causing him to hit his head, he could suffer further brain trauma. He’d made such incredible progress, but an instant could erase it all.
“Give me the keys,” Dylan shouted as he raised the board.
“I’ll drive. That way you can keep a lookout,” Ryder countered.
Owen crept toward Dylan. “Stay right there!”
Forget it. She was done letting Owen put himself at risk to play hero.
She dialed nine-one-one. When the dispatcher answered and asked about her emergency, Carly whispered, “I need officers sent to old highway fifty-one near the Griffith farm. There’s a teenager who’s either drunk or taken drugs.
He’s paranoid and aggressive. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt someone. ”
“You’ll have to speak up, ma’am. I can’t hear you.”
She repeated her request a little louder.
Dylan moved toward her hiding place, stopped, and then whirled to face Owen and Ryder. “Did you hear that? Someone’s out there.”
“I didn’t hear anything, did you, Owen?”
“No. Come back, Dylan. Let’s get outta here,” Owen said, as he walked toward the teen.
“You know who’s out there, and that they’re here to get me. You’re in this together.” Dylan raised the board again and advanced on Owen.
Carly held her breath, fearing her chest would burst from the force of her heart slamming against her ribs.
A primal scream lodged in her throat and her body shaking, she stepped out from the trees. “Dylan, I’m right here. Do you remember me? I’m Ryder’s sister, Carly. We met at the bowling alley.”
The teenager spun around and stalked toward her. “Who else is out there?”
“I’m alone.” She inched closer. If she could see Dylan’s eyes, she could judge his reactions. Then maybe she could calm him down.
“Carly, leave,” Owen snapped.
Sirens blared in the distance. Dylan spun to face Ryder and Owen.
“They’re coming to get me! This is your fault!
Give me the keys.” Dylan raced toward Ryder and Owen, still clutching the board.
Carly screamed for Owen and her brother to run, but neither moved.
She charged forward to draw his attention.
“Don’t hurt them, Dylan!” When the teen drew back the board as if stepping up to the home plate to bat, she launched herself at Owen, praying she could knock him out of the way or, at least, absorb part of the blow.
The crack of wood connecting with bone, followed by pain pierced Carly’s arm and side as she flew backwards to land in a heap.
Fire pulsed through her, and something wet and warm seeped through her T-shirt.
She spotted the wood nearby and frowned.
The board had been weathered brownish gray, but now streaks of red covered it.
As blinding pain rolled over her, her brain grew foggy.
Images of her life flashed in her mind. The emptiness, the nights and weekends spent alone or working taunted her.
Then images of Owen filled her vision. Of them working side by side, of him reassuring her, of being her confidant, of the life they could’ve had together.
She’d been the dog at the lake in the old fable. She’d been so busy trying to grab the other dog’s bone, she’d lost the one she had.