Echoes Marissa Lete (best ereader for students .TXT) 📖

“O—okay,” I reply. Leo turns toward the door but glances back at me before he opens it.

“She probably didn’t mean any of that. It’ll blow over soon,” he tells me. Then he’s gone.

Chapter 10

I stand there in the parking lot for a minute, turning the words Grace said to me over in my head. You’re a party pooper, Laura.

It hits me hard because I know that it’s true. I don’t like parties. I don’t like malls. I don’t like anywhere that’s loud, or heavily populated—which are the places that most teenagers love to hang out. Grace always wants me to go out and do stuff with her, but most of the time I’d rather sit at home in the blissful silence of the office.

But I can’t do anything about it. I can’t just make the echoes of the past go away. They exist wherever I go, and though I’ve gotten good at tuning them out when I need to, it doesn’t mean I like to. And I wish that I could just explain this to Grace. I wish that she could understand, but I know that’s not an option. I can’t just expect her to believe me.

Which means I can’t expect her to be my friend, I realize. I’m sick and tired of you dragging me down, she’d said. And that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t a friend to her; I was a burden.

I don’t realize I’m crying until someone opens the door of the gym. A couple of kids spill out into the parking lot, and I turn away so they can’t see my face. When I wipe the tears away, my hands are streaked with eyeliner.

I can’t stay here anymore, and it’s clear that Grace doesn’t want me to anyway. I don’t want to walk back through the party where everyone can see me, so I start walking along the side of the building. There’s a gravel road that runs behind the school just around the corner of the gym, and I can follow it to the parking lot my car’s in. This way, no one sees me.

The road is fairly well lit, with light posts dotted along across from me. There’s a big chain-link fence just behind them, separating the school’s property from the one adjacent to it. As I’m walking, I hear the sound of tires on gravel behind me and light appears, getting brighter as the car gets closer. I peer at it as I move closer to the building to give the car room to pass by me, but when it’s about ten feet away it stops. The passenger door opens, but that’s all I can see as I squint at the bright headlights. I pause for a second, trying to make out the shape of the car. It’s big, and a chill runs down my spine.

Is this the Suburban that’s been chasing me?

Just as I think it, a figure steps around the open door, slams it shut, and starts moving towards me. Quickly.

I don’t wait any longer. I turn back around, breaking into a sprint. Behind me, I hear the engine rev up, tires crunching on the gravel close behind me. There’s still a long stretch of road ahead of me, and though I might be able to outrun the person on foot, I can’t imagine being able to outrun the car.

As I run, I pass a few back doors along the back of the building, and there’s another one coming up in front of me. I could try getting inside where the Suburban won’t be able to follow, but I’m not sure I want to risk pausing for a locked door. Behind me, I hear the tires crunching closer, and I realize that I might have to because there’s no way I’m going to make it much further. So I skid to a stop, put my hand on the door, and tug on it, but as I’d expected, it’s locked. Now the car’s even closer, and I don’t know what to do.

Then, up ahead, I see two small dots of light. Headlights, I think. There’s someone else coming down the road. Maybe they can help me.

The two small dots grow into large, bright lights faster than I expect them to. The sound of the engine and the tires screaming across the gravel follow a split second later. It’s coming straight at me, so I flatten myself against the building to keep out of its way.

A gust of wind hits me as a small, expensive-looking sport’s car whips past me. I watch, my eyes widening as it veers to the left, drifting sideways towards the Suburban in a cloud of dust. The sound of a collision comes a second later.

I stand there, stunned for a moment, trying to process what I’ve just seen. But then, my instinct to escape comes rushing back to me when I see the figure on foot slide past the sport’s car, still moving—quickly—in my direction. I turn around and continue my flight, realizing that the sport’s car has just halted the Suburban. If I can outrun the person on foot, I may be able to escape after all.

So I run, and up ahead I finally see the edge of the gravel road and the parking lot just to the left of it. I throw a glance over my shoulder to see how close my pursuer is, and just as I do, the sport’s car speeds up behind them. It veers around the person, then pulls in front of them, coming to an abrupt halt as it blocks their path to me.

The person in the sport’s car is helping me. They crashed a very expensive car to stop whoever is doing this. Could they somehow be involved in all