CHAPTER THIRTY
ARIELLE
My mother drove eighty in a fifty-five while telling me not to panic.
Those two things did not belong in the same car.
“Slow down,” I said, gripping the door handle.
“Kye sent an emergency word she ain’t used since middle school. I am driving.”
“You can drive without turning us into another emergency.”
She eased off the gas by three miles an hour.
Jori was on speaker through my phone. She had seen Kye’s location and called the salon’s building manager while I called 911.
“The manager says the back door was propped for a plumbing delivery,” she said. Her voice was controlled, but I heard paper moving fast on her end. “Security is going inside now. Police are two minutes out.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Leaving campus.”
“You got your final Friday.”
“I know what day it is.”
It came out sharp; then, she corrected herself.
“I have my notes with me. I’m coming.”
Nae had posted one message in the chat.
NAE: Dropping Amir with my mom. On my way.
Nobody asked whether we were still mad.
Blue Light had never included feelings.
My phone rang from an unknown number. I answered immediately.
“Is this Arielle Banks?” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Officer Ramirez. Kyla listed you in the group message. She is safe. The male is in custody.”
The breath left me so hard, my chest hurt.
“Did he hurt her?”
“She reports no physical contact tonight. EMTs are checking her because she is having difficulty catching her breath. Please drive safely. There is no need to rush into the scene.”
My mother heard that and slowed down for real.
“Can I speak to her?”
“Not yet. She is giving a statement. You can wait outside when you arrive.”
I thanked her and ended the call.
For half a mile, neither my mother nor I spoke.
Then, she reached over and squeezed my knee.
“She used the word,” she said.
“I know.”
“She believed somebody would come.”
My eyes burned.
Being needed by Kye should not have felt good under these circumstances. It did not feel good exactly. It felt like a door inside me had opened before I decided whether I wanted it to.
When we reached the salon, police cars blocked both entrances. Red and blue lights moved over the windows and wet pavement. A black Charger sat crooked near the rear curb with the driver’s door open.
My mother parked across the street because an officer waved us away from the lot.
I got out before she turned the engine off.
“Arielle.”
“I’m staying behind the tape.”
“You better.”
The scarf on my head had started sliding toward one eyebrow. I did not fix it.
Through the front window, I could see Kye sitting in her styling chair with a silver emergency blanket around her shoulders. An EMT crouched in front of her taking her blood pressure. Her face was bare. One side of her hair had flattened where she must have pressed it against something.
She looked small inside the room she had built to make herself bigger.
The officer who called me met us near the sidewalk.
“Are you family?” she asked.
“Friend,” I said.
The word caught.
My mother answered behind me, “Family enough.”
Officer Ramirez looked at both of us, then nodded. “She can come out after we finish photographing the suite and copying the camera footage. The suspect was arrested for violating the order. The prosecutor will review any additional charges.”
“Did he have a weapon?” my mother asked.
“None found on him or in the vehicle during the initial search.”
Initial.
Jori arrived next, still wearing scrubs beneath her coat and carrying a backpack. She did not try to cross the tape. She went straight to the officer and gave Kye’s restraining-order case number from a screenshot she had saved.
Nae pulled up five minutes later in bedroom slippers and a puffer coat over pajama pants.
She looked at my scarf.
I looked at her slippers.
Neither one of us mentioned it.
The four of us stood in a row under a parking-lot light, facing the salon.
Nobody knew where to put their hands.
Six weeks ago, we could not sit through one brunch without talking over one another. Now, the quiet between us had rules.
The suite door finally opened.
Kye stepped out with Officer Ramirez beside her. The emergency blanket was wrapped tight under her chin. Her mother had arrived through the rear lot and followed behind them with murder in her face.
Kye saw all three of us at once.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I moved first. Then, I stopped two feet away because I remembered the last time Jori tried to tell her what she needed.
“You want me to touch you?” I asked.
Kye nodded.
I wrapped both arms around her.
The blanket made a loud crinkling sound between us. Her body stayed stiff for two seconds, then folded against mine.
She shook without making noise.
I held her and stared over her shoulder at the Charger. Trell sat in the back of a police car across the lot. I could not see his face clearly through the glass.
Good.
He did not deserve to be the center of this picture.
“You came,” Kye whispered.
“You said Blue Light.”
“I ain’t know if you would.”
I pulled back enough to look at her. “Being mad at you don’t mean I want something to happen to you.”
Her eyes filled. “I’m sorry.”
“Not tonight.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
Jori stepped closer. “The officer needs the final order emailed again. I have it if you want me to send it.”
Kye gave her permission instead of letting Jori assume.
Nae held out a bottle of water. “My mom packed Amir’s whole emergency bag like you was the toddler. It got crackers too.”
A weak laugh escaped Kye.
Her mother pointed toward her car. “She coming home with me.”
Officer Ramirez said Kye still needed to finish a written statement at the station. The EMT recommended she get checked at urgent care or the emergency department if the chest tightness continued, but her oxygen and blood pressure were stable.
My mother looked at Kye’s mother. “I’ll follow y’all to the station.”
Kye’s mother did not argue.
The police towed Trell’s Charger as evidence connected to the order violation. Kye watched it disappear behind a truck without looking away.
At the station, the waiting room smelled like wet coats and old coffee. Kye went behind a secured door with her mother. The rest of us sat in plastic chairs beneath a clock that moved too loud.
Jori opened her pharmacology notes.
Nae looked at her. “You really studying right now?”
“My final is Friday.”
“That wasn’t judgment. I’m impressed and irritated.”
Jori lowered the packet. “I emailed my professor. She gave me until Monday if I provide the report number.”
“You asked?” I said.
“Yes.”
She looked almost embarrassed by it.
That would have made me smile before.
Tonight, it just made me notice she was trying.
Kye came out after midnight. Her eyes were swollen, but her breathing had slowed. The officer gave her a copy of the report and the number for a victim advocate.
Outside, the cold hit us all at once.
Kye’s mother went to warm the car. My mother and Nae walked ahead to move theirs. Jori stayed near the station doors. I stood with Kye under the light.
“You can come to my house,” I said. “My mother will sleep on the couch with a baseball bat and make everybody miserable.”
Kye almost smiled. “I’m going with my mom.”
“Okay.”
“Ari.”
I waited.
“I knew you would come.”
“You knew a lot about me,” I said. “That didn’t stop you from using it wrong.”
She looked down.
“I’m not saying it to punish you. I’m saying I can show up tonight and still not be ready tomorrow.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t know if you do.”
“Then, I’ll stop saying I do before I prove it.”
That sounded more like Kye than an apology speech would have.
Her mother beeped the horn once.
Kye hugged herself beneath the silver blanket. “Thank you for coming as you was.”
I touched the edge of my crooked scarf.
For the first time all night, I remembered it was there.
“I didn’t have time to be cute.”
“You still cute.”
“Don’t irritate me.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. Then, she got into her mother’s car and left.
I watched until the taillights disappeared.
We were not fixed.
But when the emergency came, none of us had mistaken broken for gone.