Caught In The Boys Locker Room

Chapter Nineteen: Split Personalities

I gripped my rugged steering wheel, silently praying that my car wouldn't decide to break down as I slowly drove through Chase's supposed neighborhood street.

My mind was still all over the place with thoughts of what had happened while I was on the phone with Chase earlier.

And the longer the anticipation built up inside of me with whatever was going on, the more I couldn't help but wonder why he had asked me to pick him up, instead of calling the police! If he was bringing me into a dangerous situation, I swear he would be the one to regret it!

The street lamps were dim, giving off a faint hue as I continued forward and my car grumbled. I rubbed the jagged steering wheel lovingly,

"Come on, ol'Betsy," I whispered softly, "You can do this. Chase is in trouble and needs our help. Please," I begged, "Please just be strong enough to pick up Chase and save him from whatever's wrong."

I listened for any groaning protests from my old 2000 red Honda. Well, if you could even call it "red." So much of the paint had chipped off it was half of a reddish-orangeish color and the other half was a dusty gray. Luckily, the car hummed peacefully, as if accepting my plea. I smiled graciously, taking this as a sign of good luck.

Pulling up to the curb next to a four way's stop sign, I parked and turned off the ignition. Silence settled in, and the automatic lights turned on overhead of me, making the rest of the outside world appear pitch black and that much more creepy. Leaning back, I let out a deep sigh and drummed my fingers against my thigh as nerves began to build up inside of me. Chase had asked me to meet him here, but I wasn't sure why. I thought I'd be rescuing him from some type of robber at this point- like the true superhero I was, but he insisted it wasn't that serious.

I was still planning on demanding that he only referred to me as his savior, however, from now on.

The lights finally clicked off, leaving me in darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I looked out past my window to see as far as I could down the sidewalk. I strained to find Chase, to see his familiar tall, athletic-built physique jogging towards my little, feeble vehicle that barely passed for a car- but didn't.

5 minutes passed, and I found myself biting my already sore bottom lip with unease. What was taking him so long?

Picking up my phone, I opened a new message to text Chase. I needed to find out whether or not he was even still alive. But before I could even begin typing, my ears perked up at a nearby sound.

Shouting.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to find the source of the noise. In the far distance, I could see what looked like the faint glow of a house's front door open, causing the light to illuminate the stranger's front lawn and the part of the road in front of it.

Bringing up my hand, I began chewing on my nails once again. Who was that? Was that where Chase lived? Was he in trouble?

Taking a deep breath, I collected every ounce of courage I could and, putting the key back into the ignition, lightly pressed on the gas pedal to go forward towards the questionable scene.

My heart pounded harder against my chest with every inch that I grew closer. On top of that, my headlights barely helped to brighten the road in front of me, which only increased my nerves. The headlights were so old and fogged over that the amount of light they gave off more resembled that of a sad excuse for a kids toy flashlight.

As I neared closer to the house, I decided there was no way Chase lived here. It was small, similar to my own home. Although I actually wasn't that surprised. I had only traveled a few miles away from my house, so I was in a similar looking neighborhood. But with Chase's sleek, black Mercedes, I assumed he lived in some kind of mansion. Instead, this house was old. The white paint was beginning to chip off, as well as stained partly yellow from years worn by the sun.