Girl Out of Water(46)

“I’m not sure how falling on my ass equates to rad, but if you say so…”

“Dropping in without falling flat on your ass is basically impossible the first time around. So trust me, what you managed was pretty rad.”

We both crawl out of the bowl, and by crawl, I mean run, climb, and then jump out of the sharp vertical slope. Lincoln’s friends all clap me on the back and congratulate me, including Sofia who grabs my forehead and presses it to hers. “Girl, you are my new hero.”

The thing is, even though technically I just failed, their encouragement is empowering. And the fact that I almost didn’t fail is even more empowering. So when they ask if I want to try again, I don’t think about the rather large bruise forming on my ass; instead, I think about how exhilarating it would feel to burst over that wall with a perfect landing. And so I smile and say absolutely.

? ? ?

When I climb out of the bowl for what must be the hundredth time, I find Austin in front of me, safety pins glittering in the sun. “Nice ride,” he says.

“Thanks.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead and grab the water bottle that I think is mine but also might be Parker’s and take a giant swig. Once my breathing slows to normal, I glance around. “Where’s Emery?”

Austin looks down at the ground and scuffs his shoe against the concrete. “I don’t know… She didn’t want to come with me.”

“You don’t know where she is or you don’t know why she didn’t want to come with you?”

“Uhhh…” Austin scratches his forehead under the swished front of his hair. “Both. I don’t know. She was in a weird mood.”

My heart beats fast with the wrong kind of adrenaline. Emery is twelve. She’s perfectly capable of hanging out in the park in the middle of the day alone, but still. I’d rather know exactly where she is. I pull out my phone and call her, but it rings and rings and rings.

Emery always has her phone with her.

I dial again.

And again.

Austin stares at me, his expression turning from bummed out to concerned. “Do you want me to go get her?” he asks.

The third call goes to voice mail. I shake my head. “No. I’ll get her. She’s fine. I mean, of course she’s fine. I’m just going to go… Will you watch the boys? Wait, no. Actually…”

I spin. Lincoln’s standing on the other side of the bowl, cheering on one of his friends. I speed walk over to him, my throat tight, my legs shaking from something other than exertion. “Watch Parker and Nash for me, okay? Don’t let them out of your sight. I’ll be back.”

His brow creases. “Wait, what—”

But I don’t respond.

I grab my skateboard and race toward the park entrance and, I hope, Emery.

? ? ?

Emery isn’t where I left her. Not in the parking lot, not by the entry sign, not by the wooden benches along the main path. I call her again and again, but she doesn’t pick up. I pace back and forth in front of my skateboard, cursing Austin for leaving her alone and cursing myself for leaving her alone with Austin.

He fooled me with his smile, with his generosity toward Parker and Nash, when the truth is I should have never trusted someone who uses safety pins as buttons. Why would he just leave her here alone? Okay, well, maybe because she asked him to, and he was respecting her wishes. This is my fault. I’m responsible for her, and—

“Come on, pick up,” I mutter. This isn’t good. This really isn’t good. Emery always has her phone with her. If she’s not picking up, that means… No. I’m not going to think about that.

Do I call the police? Dad? Do I go back to the skate park and ask Austin more questions? Do I—

Wait. The basketball courts. Maybe she made up with her friends.

Before the thought fully forms, I jump back onto my skateboard, following the occasional sign that points me in the right direction. I don’t even have to think about my balance as I skate anymore. The movement comes naturally as I speed down the paths, curving with sharp, pinpointed turns to avoid crashing into pedestrians, ignoring my sore muscles, not pausing to take in anything around me but the same two words on each sign—basketball courts, basketball courts, basketball courts.

Eventually the path opens to a chain-link fence, like the one surrounding the skate park, except this fence surrounds two basketball courts. Old men, probably retirees, are midgame on the first one. But as I near the second court, I find exactly who I’m looking for—a group of preteens.

I spot Emery standing on the outskirts of a tight-knit group of kids. The flood of relief is so strong that I rush up to her and pull her into a tight hug. I do this before I remember there was drama with her friends and this is the first time she’s hanging out with them since the lake.

“What are you doing?” she screeches—actually screeches—voice high and tight, face red.

I stumble away, feeling a new type of panic. Emery was making up with her friends, and now I’ve embarrassed her. “Umm…” I try to think quickly, but my mind spins. Her friends give me judgmental glares I swear only twelve-year-old girls are capable of. “Sorry—nothing. We need to go. And you wouldn’t pick up your phone.”

She rolls her eyes. “Jesus, I left it at home on accident. Fine. Let’s go.”