I open the motel door. I feel the soft sun on my face. I hear the thump of my shoes on the walkway as I head out of the motel lot. I smell fresh baking bread at a shop nearby. The town is coming to life again. The night is over.
We won’t be here another night.
Once the walk sign where Evan nearly caught us turns white, I start sprinting.
Thirty-Seven
I reach the mechanic shop with my lungs on fire and sweat dripping down my chest and back, but I can confidently say it beats any time I’ve made in P.E. class over my lifetime. I slam my way through the door but can’t even utter a word to a startled Cheryl. For a moment, I let the fan air slap me in the face as I put my hands on my knees and try to breathe again.
“You want a water, hon?” Cheryl asks as she collects herself much quicker than I do. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, her hair put up in a messy bun. The witch memorabilia remains pristine behind her. Time has clearly passed since I was last here, but it’s like no time has passed at all.
My stomach pinches as I connect everything I’ve learned since my last time here. Is Cheryl one of the people who has been secretly relieved for this string of girls to get murdered? Has she wished for it her whole handful of decades growing up here?
What would she say if she knew the “witch” only got two girls that October night, not three as the news reported?
“Yes, please,” I wheeze out.
She hands me a sealed plastic bottle from a fridge, so I’ll take my chances.
As soon as I’ve chugged enough water to be able to speak properly, I pull out Beck’s crumpled-up repair form and slam it onto the table. “Any chance this car is done? My friend and I need to leave now.”
Cheryl stares at me a long while, mouth muscles twitching. For a moment, I’m convinced she’s going to tell me to get out. But then she steps out from behind the counter and says “Let me check” in the normal customer service voice she used last time Beck and I were here.
Cheryl strolls into the mechanic side of the shop. Her every step makes my muscles tense further. I pace the small waiting area, nothing else to do to burn off the adrenaline.
My walkie-talkie goes off.
“Hey, Emma, is everything okay? Please confirm with me. Over.”
The knot in my stomach twists like a knife.
I stare at Cheryl. She approaches Gerry as he inspects a car that isn’t Beck’s, but Gerry doesn’t look up at her. Is she waiting for a polite time to ask about the goddamn car?
My throat grows thick again and water won’t help this time.
“Emma?” Natalie asks again. “Emma, come in.”
Gerry still won’t look at Cheryl.
“Emma?” Natalie’s voice is laced with panic.
Gerry turns to Cheryl. He nods at her. My heart soars.
Then Gerry turns back to the car.
“Emma, if you don’t answer, I’m gonna have to—”
Come find you. Kill you myself.
Fuck.
I pick up the walkie-talkie. “Everything’s okay,” I say, breathless.“Sorry. I meant to tell you that Beck and I got back fine. We’re just about to leave town.”
I approach the glass door and slam my fist into it. Gerry, Cheryl, and I all startle at the sound. When Gerry turns to me with a scowl on his face, I tap my wrist like I’m wearing a watch. I can only hope the sheer panic I’m feeling is registering on my face.
Gerry throws his hands up and disappears deeper into the shop. Cheryl returns to me.
“Gerry’s getting your car now,” Cheryl says, thathmmphin her voice I usually get from disappointed boomers at the Mystic Museum. Despite the stakes of this moment, embarrassment still hits me.
