“How was your date?”
“How did you know I was on one?”
“I saw Becky last night. She saw you and Levi together.”
I sighed. Living in a small town depressed me sometimes.
“Our date was fine. We watched Do or Die then went to the orchard.”
“Oh, the orchard? Are you finally playing baseball? Looking to hit a home run are you?”
“I'm not one to kiss and tell.” As we entered Blue Rapids, I pulled out a small map I printed off the computer. According to the directions, the road ran North to South. From what I gathered, I had to go East then cut back North.
“Exactly why are we here again?” She clicked the lock nervously.
“I read a story about a boy who was killed in a car wreck here. It's been haunting me ever since.” In more ways than she'd ever guess.
“Right,” she said, clearly skeptical. “So, you drove three hours just to, what? Find a boy who is dead? Why not check the cemetery?”
“Because he isn't there,” I replied. I drove to the east then across to the north as the map instructed. Because Aidan never disclosed the exact location of the accident, I had to dig through the archives to determine where the accident occurred. He wasn't kidding—the road wound its way up a sharp curve along the Republican River. To the left of us, a thin forest bordered the road. On the right, the ground dropped off sharply down a steep embankment. Below, the river flowed swiftly, unhindered by debris or barriers.
“We have to get down there,” I muttered, edging closer to the new rails along the shoulder.
“Who is this kid?” Billie asked, peering out her window.
“Aidan Summers, and he's not a kid. He's nineteen. He lost control of his Jeep and went down the embankment. The vehicle exploded, trapping him inside. It is assumed he was already dead before the fire started.”
“How awful. I still don't know what it matters to you.”
“Neither do I.” Only that finding the truth will send him into the light, and out of my life forever. I pressed my hand against my chest as if I could hold myself together.
I drove until I came upon a public access site. Pulling into the lot, I parked the car and unbuckled my seat belt. As I studied the landscape, I felt apprehensive. For Kansas, the flattest place in America, the huge hill and sharp curves were weird, like we'd driven into an alternate universe. Small trails led through the brush along the river. Somewhere in there was where Aidan had died. Because I couldn't very well drive through there, we'd have to go on foot.
“No way,” Billie protested. “These shoes cost $170. I am not ruining them because you want to go traipsing through the woods.”
“Fine, then sit here all by yourself. I don't care.” I turned off the ignition, slammed the door, then hopped over the rail that encircled the parking lot. A few seconds later I heard the passenger door slam shut. Predictable Billie; being alone terrified her.
“How do you know if you find what you're looking for?” she panted as she caught up with me.
“I guess when we come upon a bunch of burnt land I'll know.”
I kept my eyes peeled for charred bushes and trees. The vegetation wasn't as thick as I thought it might be. Tall grass covered most of the area. We walked less than a mile when we found the scene of the accident. A wide area, maybe sixty feet in circumference, was completely black. In three months, Mother Nature had not repaired herself. Looking up the hill, I saw where the Jeep tumbled down. Huge drag marks marred the Earth. Flattened shrubbery and snapped off saplings laid in the wake. The fire must have started halfway down because black ash started where the drag marks ended.
Seeing what happened to Aidan made me sick. I ran to the nearest tree and heaved. Billie held my hair back while I continued to relieve the contents of my stomach. When I finished, I stood up and collected myself. Vomiting wasn't going to help matters. If I got sick, who'd keep looking?
The need
“How did you know I was on one?”
“I saw Becky last night. She saw you and Levi together.”
I sighed. Living in a small town depressed me sometimes.
“Our date was fine. We watched Do or Die then went to the orchard.”
“Oh, the orchard? Are you finally playing baseball? Looking to hit a home run are you?”
“I'm not one to kiss and tell.” As we entered Blue Rapids, I pulled out a small map I printed off the computer. According to the directions, the road ran North to South. From what I gathered, I had to go East then cut back North.
“Exactly why are we here again?” She clicked the lock nervously.
“I read a story about a boy who was killed in a car wreck here. It's been haunting me ever since.” In more ways than she'd ever guess.
“Right,” she said, clearly skeptical. “So, you drove three hours just to, what? Find a boy who is dead? Why not check the cemetery?”
“Because he isn't there,” I replied. I drove to the east then across to the north as the map instructed. Because Aidan never disclosed the exact location of the accident, I had to dig through the archives to determine where the accident occurred. He wasn't kidding—the road wound its way up a sharp curve along the Republican River. To the left of us, a thin forest bordered the road. On the right, the ground dropped off sharply down a steep embankment. Below, the river flowed swiftly, unhindered by debris or barriers.
“We have to get down there,” I muttered, edging closer to the new rails along the shoulder.
“Who is this kid?” Billie asked, peering out her window.
“Aidan Summers, and he's not a kid. He's nineteen. He lost control of his Jeep and went down the embankment. The vehicle exploded, trapping him inside. It is assumed he was already dead before the fire started.”
“How awful. I still don't know what it matters to you.”
“Neither do I.” Only that finding the truth will send him into the light, and out of my life forever. I pressed my hand against my chest as if I could hold myself together.
I drove until I came upon a public access site. Pulling into the lot, I parked the car and unbuckled my seat belt. As I studied the landscape, I felt apprehensive. For Kansas, the flattest place in America, the huge hill and sharp curves were weird, like we'd driven into an alternate universe. Small trails led through the brush along the river. Somewhere in there was where Aidan had died. Because I couldn't very well drive through there, we'd have to go on foot.
“No way,” Billie protested. “These shoes cost $170. I am not ruining them because you want to go traipsing through the woods.”
“Fine, then sit here all by yourself. I don't care.” I turned off the ignition, slammed the door, then hopped over the rail that encircled the parking lot. A few seconds later I heard the passenger door slam shut. Predictable Billie; being alone terrified her.
“How do you know if you find what you're looking for?” she panted as she caught up with me.
“I guess when we come upon a bunch of burnt land I'll know.”
I kept my eyes peeled for charred bushes and trees. The vegetation wasn't as thick as I thought it might be. Tall grass covered most of the area. We walked less than a mile when we found the scene of the accident. A wide area, maybe sixty feet in circumference, was completely black. In three months, Mother Nature had not repaired herself. Looking up the hill, I saw where the Jeep tumbled down. Huge drag marks marred the Earth. Flattened shrubbery and snapped off saplings laid in the wake. The fire must have started halfway down because black ash started where the drag marks ended.
Seeing what happened to Aidan made me sick. I ran to the nearest tree and heaved. Billie held my hair back while I continued to relieve the contents of my stomach. When I finished, I stood up and collected myself. Vomiting wasn't going to help matters. If I got sick, who'd keep looking?
The need
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