Get Lost Read Free

the other motorcycle quickly closes it.
    Justin effortlessly takes another turn, with the motorcycle steadily trailing behind him. My head turns back around once again. This time to see the rider pull out a long, black gun. Frozen in fear, I can’t seem to move as bullets begin bouncing off the inside of the car.
    “Down,” he instructs as he points to the floor.
    I try to undo my seat belt, which has locked due to the intense speed and reckless driving. Before I can duck, I’m struck by one of the bullets right beside my left collarbone. As the metal burns through my flesh, I stare at the implausible sight, wondering what that high-pitched sound is. After a moment of gawking, I realize it’s me. I turn to say something to Justin, who is maneuvering around other cars, when my entire body goes numb, and all is black.
    I feel heat burning my eyelids. I force them open to see Justin enjoying an ice cream sundae at McFrost’s, a local fast-food restaurant where carhop service still exists. My body slides itself up against the hot leather seat in an attempt to gain full consciousness.
    “Want some?” He offers, sticking the melting treat toward me.
    With a small head tilt, I lower my eyes to glare more fully at him. Who asks someone who’s just been shot if they want ice cream rather than taking them to the hospital? Quickly, I begin to feel the spot where the bullet pierced me, which is when something even stranger than the fact he didn’t take me to the hospital occurs. Neither the bullet nor the wound is    there.
    “What…what happened?” I ask as I slowly caress the spot.
    “We’re having ice cream,” he answers, sticking the spoon in the treat and the treat on the dashboard. Grabbing his fedora from the backseat, he slides it on and adjusts it immediately, looking in the mirror. “Remember. You helped me out earlier, so I took you to get ice cream.”
    “Right,” I state carefully. “But then, we were in a car chase…”
    “Chase?”
    “Yeah, with two people on bikes.”
    “Bicycles?”
    “No, motorcycles! And one just disappeared into dust when he hit that building, and the other chased us down before he pulled out a large gun with what looked like a silencer and shot me right here!” I point to the spot where my uniform should have a hole, but didn’t.
    He leans over, loosens his black tie, and runs his finger gently across my shoulder, causing goose bumps on my red and black, plaid-skirt-covered legs. He shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t see anything.”
    “But…” I cut myself off and try to start again. “But I… and then you…and then we…but I swear…”
    “Must be the heat.” With a mischievous smile, he dangles the dessert at me. “Ice cream?”
    I shake my head and relax against the seat, more distraught and confused than ever.
    “Seriously, nothing happened?”
    “I drove here.”
    “But I…and then you…and then we…but I swear… I saw people vanish into smoke!”
    Justin sighs. “Peyton people don’t just vanish into smoke. Are you sure you’re okay? Do I need to put the top up?”
    I stare at him blankly for a second, receiving the same look I got at school, but this time without the request of a harmless good deed. Cautiously, I reach for the ice cream and continue to analyze my surroundings for signs of the chase.
    “So, the D.R.E.A.M. gallery is owned by your parents. That must be why you have such a fine taste for art.” He swallows this compliment along with a large amount of ice cream.
    “They say it runs in my blood,” I continue, checking out my body for signs of bullet holes or blood spots. Baffled to still come up with nothing from my examination, I dust some yellow dirt off my shoulder and sigh. “Why’s being a con second nature to you?”
    “You could say it runs in my blood.” He chuckles, which warms my heart a little. “I’ve got a pretty good philosophy about life. It’s all like a game of cards. You’re either the dealer or the