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Well, fuck. That didn’t go to plan.
I pick my phone up and wince at the shattered screen. It could be worse; at least the thing still works. Sort of.
I’m glad that it’s so dark and deserted because I don’t fancy explaining why I’m soaking wet and walking along the road Malia took off on, barefoot, in the dead of night, wearing only boardies.
Thank fuck I’m not naked.
With difficulty, I type in the code to unlock the phone – facial recognition is a no-go, the camera’s obviously fucked – and it takes a good eight attempts punching at the numbers for it to work. I quickly hit the phone icon and dial the last number in my recents. It rings twice before the prof answers.
“I need a ride.”
He sighs. “Why? I thought you were on a date?”
“I was. But…there was an incident and Malia took off with the buggy.”
“Again?”
“Yeah,” I confess, sheepishly. He’s a bit protective of the buggy, even though he has the car. I teased Malia about the scratch, but in all honesty, when the prof found out, he reamed my ass.
“What happened?”
“We were attacked by Shikari—”
“What?” The prof barks. It’s so sharp and loud down the phone, I wince and pull the speaker away from my ear. “Why didn’t you lead with that? Why are you only calling me now?”
“Because I was busy trying to keep Malia and me alive, under fucking water,” I snap back, suddenly bone-achingly tired and weary. “Which I managed, by the way, once my magic activated.”
The prof’s right of course. I should have led with that, but to be honest my brain isn’t functioning at full capacity right now. My energy levels, and my magic, feel drained.
“Fuck.”
“Can you come get me?”
“Already in the car. Then you can tell us all about it when we get there.”
“Wait,us?”
“Yep! Didn’t think I was gonna miss the opportunity to gloat over you royally fucking this one up, did you?” Bhodi crows down the line. I clench my teeth. Fucker. He’s been so smug since he went on one stupid breakfast date with Malia and she kissed him. Like it’s a fucking competition or something.
Like he’s winning it.
“We might need them to do damage control,” the prof explains.
“Fine. I’m going to try and catch up with Malia. I doubt I will, but at least it’ll bring me closer to Two Harbours, and you don’t have to drive so far.”
“Won’t be long.” The prof doesn’t bother to say goodbye, he just cuts the call. Great. They’re all on the way, ready to poke and prod over the sore spot that is my failed date with Malia.
I grip my phone in my hand, wincing when the broken glass digs in, but I ignore it and carry on along the road in the direction Malia took off in.
The squeal of tyres and a loud bang has me running until I come across a beam of light illuminating the road from an odd angle. I follow it back to its source; the golf cart wrapped around a tree.
“Fuck! Malia!”
Running over to the mangle mess, I find Malia slumped over the wheel, unconscious and pale in the moonlight.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Malia? Malia! Fuck! What do I do?”
I tilt her back in the chair and wince at the cut above her eye. Snap decision made, I unclip her and then carefully lift her from the cart and pull her over onto the grass within the beam of light. She’s a mess.
