Sparks Reignited

14 | A Call for Help

His comment leaves me flustered. He chuckles at my reaction before moving on to another subject. "How are you finding life in this town?"

"It's quiet here. Not that I mind."

"Living far away from your parents must be tough for you."

"It's not too bad. My aunt's family is pretty nice to me, plus she cooks great meals."

"But you must miss your friends, too. Where did you study previously?"

His sudden question about my past causes me to fumble for an answer. "I–"

Something buzzes in his pocket. He fishes out his phone and his face frowns at the notification flashing on his screen. "It's Coach," he explains. "He wants a meeting in half an hour's time. One of our players has hurt himself and we need to select a substitute for the match. I'm sorry to cut this short, but I've to head back to school, Riley."

I nod in understanding. "It's fine."

We finish the last of our meal before leaving the cafe. He turns to face me and I realize how close he's standing next to me, his arm brushing against mine. Too close. "After the game on Friday, we're having a party at my house," he says. "I remember asking you last week, but you haven't given me an answer. Will you be coming?"

The first thing that comes to my mind is Blaire. I remember she enjoys parties because of the free alcohol, but she doesn't get invited often because of her small social circle. "Can I bring along a friend?"

"Sure you can," he beams. "I take it you'll be coming?"

I nod. "Of course."

His smile widens at my response. "Great! Do you want me to drive you home now? I can spare a couple of minutes."

But I politely decline his offer. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm good. You should get going. I don't want to hold you back from going wherever you should be."

He frowns and is about to say something when his phone vibrates again. He looks at the screen, letting out a sigh before glancing back at me with an apologetic smile. "Alright, I gotta run. I guess I'll see you at school, Riley."

He gestures for me to leave first, but I refuse. Shooting me one last smile, he gets into his car and finally takes his call, leaving me to stare after him. When he vanishes from sight, I make my way down the street.

It's a twenty minutes walk home. I could have easily taken the bus, but I wanted some fresh air. The sun is setting; streaks of red and orange filling the sky. It draws the curtain close to another day and ushers in a new dawn, reminding me I'm fortunate enough to still be alive.

Unlike Mom.

I wonder what sort of mother she was to me. Fierce? Kind? Strict? Was she just like Aunt Abbie, who treats her daughter like she means the entire world to her?

Lost in my thoughts, I continue walking absentmindedly. It isn't until I'm stopping at a traffic light that I notice a pair of heavy footsteps trudging behind me. Even as I cross the road and enter the next street, the footsteps follow. Sensing something amiss, I turn back to steal a glance, but I regret it instantly.

A man is following me.

I can't see his face clearly. He's dressed in a dirty green jacket and worn jeans. He has pulled his hoodie up and covers half of his face. When he sees me staring, he looks elsewhere and pretends to be busy with his phone.

Fear comes over me. My body has turned rigid and I'm panicking. Without thinking, I dart into the nearest place—a convenient store. I hide behind a shelf, peeking from the side to see where the man is. He's standing outside and beneath a streetlight pole, waiting for me to exit the store.

I can't believe I'm being stalked right now.

I pull out my phone from my pocket and dials Aunt Abbie's number. She doesn't pick up, and when I try Uncle Dave's number, he doesn't answer. And that's when it hits me. It's Parents' Day today and they're both at Judy's school to attend the celebration party, which makes complete sense if they don't hear my calls in the middle of their activities.

I scroll down my contact list, and Kyle's name appears. I stare at his name for several seconds, deliberating if I should ask for his help. Ever since he called me the other night, I've been using the same number, just in case he might call again.

But never have I imagined that this time, I will be the one making the phone call to him.

Still afraid of the man waiting for me outside with unknown intentions, I press Kyle's number without hesitation. The call rings forever and my anxiety intensifies with each passing second, but when he finally picks up, relief washes over me.

He cuts straight to the point. "What do you want, Riley?"

I swallow hard, pushing aside my pride.

"Kyle, I need your help."

I hear a scoff on the other end. "Where's Taylor?" he says. Annoyance colors his tone. "Isn't he with you?"

"He left a while ago," I explain, my voice trembling. "I'm walking home, but there's a man that I don't know following me. I'm hiding inside a store right now, but he's still outside. He doesn't look like he's going away soon."

There's a brief pause before Kyle speaks again. This time, he sounds less harsh, as if he senses the genuine fear in my voice.

"Where are you?"

"The convenient store near my aunt's cafe." There's a touch of hesitation in my voice. "Can you... can you come and get me?"

But he refuses. "Why don't you call Taylor instead?"

"I don't have his number," I admit, pausing briefly before adding on. "Even if I did, I would have called you first."

He mulls over my words in silence for several seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't care. You can't just keep coming to me when our relationship is already over a long time ago. The last time I needed you, you weren't there. So why should I help you when you need me? Maybe you should figure things out yourself this time, Riley."

Immense guilt and sadness weigh down my chest. "Kyle, wait. I–"

I hear a click on the other end and the line goes dead. I stare at my phone in bewilderment, my throat choking with emotions. My legs grow weak and I feel dizzy. I don't even know what to feel. Knowing that there's a stalker waiting for me outside is terrifying enough, but hearing a boy who hates my guts to the core makes me feel more alone than ever.

It shouldn't hurt this much. I don't have memories of him from our past, but how is it possible that his words affect me till the point I can't breathe?

I don't know how long I stand in the same spot. The cashier—a middle-aged woman—behind the counter has noticed my silent meltdown, and she's alarmed by my state.

"Oh dear, are you alright? You're looking so pale."

I hold up a hand, taking deep breaths and giving her a weak smile. "I'm good."

She doesn't look convinced. She's about to approach me, but the store's bell rings at the exact moment and someone else beats her to reach me first. When I look up, I'm stunned.

Kyle is here.

And he's looking right at me.