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“No.” I press one hand on top of hers as I grab my phone with the other. “Keep pressing. I’m calling Emma. It’s gonna be okay.” I sit behind her on the floor and drag her between my legs so I can sit her up and rest her against my chest.
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Don’t worry.” Emma doesn’t pick up, so I try again. “Don’t worry,” I repeat.
“Fuck…Xi,” she rasps. “I think I’m fucking dying.”
“You’re not dying,” I snap, refusing to listen to her. “Emma has stitched me up before, and I was in a worse situation than you. You’re going to make it. It’s gonna be okay.” The more I say it, the more she’ll believe it too.
Her eyelids start dropping just as Emma picks up. “Fuck,” I growl. “Open your fucking eyes.”
I can see her forcing her eyes open. “Xi…” A small smile tips at the corner of her mouth as she shakes her head. “I hide cash in P.O. Box 405 on the south bank. The keys are in the floorboard under my bed.”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Shut up. You’re not dying on me.” I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder and press both my hands on hers to make sure we’re pushing hard enough on the wound. “Emma!” I bark into the phone. “I need you to come to Maple Street right next to Tamar’s. We’re just after the junction with Twin Oaks.”
“Please, give the money to my mom,” Zara murmurs, her voice gone. “She’ll need it.”
“What’s going on?”Emma asks as I hear her moving around.
“Zara,” I start. “She’s been stabbed…she…” Her eyes close again. “No. No, no, no. Emma hurry, she—"
I can feel the moment it’s over. Her mouth opens slightly, and a rush of air comes out, like her soul is leaving her body.
A beat later, the lines of worry and pain painting her features disappear as her entire body relaxes.
“Xi?” Emma asks. I hear her car start.
But my phone falls to the ground in a clatter I barely hear as I grab my best friend and pull her to me. “No,” I choke. I hold her in my arms as a tremble takes over me. “Zara…Zara, baby, talk to me.”
I know she won’t.
I know she’s gone.
And I know the last memory I will ever have of her is the disappointment I heard in her voice when I told her I wouldn’t protect NSC anymore.
I kiss the top of her head over and over again, her blood soaking my shirt and her body so heavy in my arms.
A scream rips through the air and my muscles tense. Emma must have called Tamar since we’re so close to her house.
"Zara!” She falls on her knees next to us, her hands hovering over her body and not touching her as if scared to hurt her.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” she panics. Something we never do on the North Shore. We can’t afford it, and we don’t want to answer for our crimes. We don’t like adding to the gang-on-gang violence data they love to use against us.
Still holding Zara to my chest, I put a hand on Tamar’s phone and shake my head. “It’s too late,” I rasp. My throat is so tight I can barely breathe.
Something presses on my chest as I hold her body close. The weight of guilt, the pain, the heartbreak…something. I realize I’m rocking back and forth, as if lulling her to sleep.
A wail explodes from Tamar, and she hugs us. I don’t know how long we stay like this. The three childhood best friends who never spent a day without each other. The insufferable trio who always remained on the wrong side of the law.
By the time Emma gets here, Tamar and I are sitting a little further away. We laid Zara on the floor and covered her with my jacket. I’m holding my other friend in my arms as she cries on my shoulder. Her tears are never-ending, every single one of them adding to the weight on my shoulder.
The head of NSC looks around before her eyes fall on Zara’s dead body. Blood is all around her, turning the sidewalk crimson. A stain that will linger for months to come.
Far away, the thunder roars, as if God heard our pain. It’s not as loud as the scream that got stuck in my throat the moment I heard my best friend’s last breath. I can still hear it echoing in my head, imprisoned in my body.
Emma lets herself be sad for a total of two seconds. I see her gaze go to Zara, her lip twitch, and her eyes harden again when she’s looking back at us. This woman is ruthless.
“Who?”
