and when the sun comes up, they all disappear like it never even happened. If these canyons could talk, the stories they could tell would probably put us all to shame.
It’s beautiful and isolated here, which makes it the perfect place to hide out. The problem is, I’m not the only one hiding from something today. When I turn off the ignition, my eyes flick to the other car parked along the edge of the bluff. It’s like someone drove to the precipice and then thought better of tipping their vehicle over it.
The driver’s door is open like maybe they jumped out in a hurry. A shiver moves over me as I get out to examine the scene. It seems so ominous, but I’m sure it’s just a tourist who came up here to take some photographs. I read something once about the inordinate number of people who die every year trying to capture that perfect selfie. I hope the tourist didn’t tumble over the edge.
But that’s a ridiculous notion, right?
Except the longer I stare at the car, the more familiar it seems. It’s a silver Lexus convertible. I don’t pay a lot of attention to all the cars at school, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that same car parked at BMA. The top is down even though it’s chilly, and the owner is nowhere in sight. It seems really strange, and I can’t let it go. What if someone really did fall over the edge?
I reach into my pocket and grab my canister of Mace. Maybe I’m using this as a distraction right now, but if someone really needs help, I can’t just leave. Where would I go, anyway? I know what’s waiting for me back at BMA, and I just can’t think about that right now.
It’s a long walk to the car. My feet drag against the gravel, and every once in a while, my ankle still gives a little twinge of pain. I welcome it for a change. It gives me something else to focus on.
When I reach the Lexus, I hang back a little at first, cautiously walking around to examine it. There’s nobody inside. No corpse on the back seat. But there is a BMA blazer sitting on the passenger seat.
Sweat prickles my skin as I edge along the cliff and peek over. The drop is so steep and high, I can’t even see what’s down there. If someone did fall, they would not have survived.
I’m trying to figure out what to do when I hear the softest of sobs coming from the clump of trees to my left. Convinced I’m hallucinating now, I stall my breath and fall perfectly still, but the quiet sob erupts again, followed by a sniffle.
I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. I think I should call for help, but what would I even say? Someone is crying in a clump of trees up at Devil’s Bluff. No, I need more information first. I need to go see for myself. But what if it’s a trap?
I hesitate, but the crying continues. Shit. What if they really are hurt and scared?
My legs move woodenly in that direction. When I reach the grass, I try not to step on anything that will crunch. Maybe I can just get a peek, and if it’s nothing catastrophic, I’ll turn around and leave without a word. But the closer I get to the noise, the faster my heart beats. The melancholy sounds are echoing around me now, intensifying my own agony. Whoever this is, they are in a world of pain.
A halo of brown hair comes into view, and I freeze. At first glance, the girl curled up in a ball on a bed of dirt looks like a small child. Her whole body is shaking with grief and sorrow so profound it suffocates the air from my lungs. But I know this isn’t a child. She’s wearing the BMA uniform, and before I even get a glimpse of her face, I have an idea who it is.
“Alexa?”
Her head snaps up, and she stares at me, horrified. An orange prescription bottle tumbles from her hand as she tries to ball herself up even tighter.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she whispers.
My knees nearly buckle as I examine the empty bottle. “Did you take those?”
She shakes her head violently, bringing her palms up to cover her ears. “You aren’t real.”
She thinks she’s hallucinating.
Holy crap.
I reach for the empty bottle and nearly topple over. I