Eve Morgan

I throw the green leather diary back on the pile of books and spin around to face my best friend, Rachel Gilbert. I bought the diary for her on her eighteenth birthday two months ago when I couldn't come up with a better idea for a birthday gift because of course, I'm a crappy friend. And you can't convince me otherwise because I know even though buying a diary as a birthday gift for my bestie doesn't exactly on its own make me a crappy friend, when you consider all the ways I've failed Rachel - like hooking up with her boyfriend, Dan in sophomore year (yeah, I did that!) and lying to her about pretty much everything that mattered, you'd expect me to give her much more than a diary.

I've always wondered what I did to deserve a friend like Rachel. A friend who was not only willing but actually did punch Jasmine Walters in the face for calling me a slut after I hooked up with Dan and could trust me enough to tell me the gross details of her first date which, by the way, trust me you don't want to hear about it. She always tells me everything which is why struck me as odd when she told me not to read her diary.

No, we are not quarreling and no, I didn't set out to read her diary in the first place. I didn't head straight home after school because Dad is going to be working at the hospital till 7 p.m., Mom is taking an extra shift at the cafe, and my brother, Mark is hanging out with his friends. So, I wound up in Rachel's room. I thought we could go check out the newest restaurants in town or watch N*****x together like we always did but it turns out Rachel has to prepare her speech for the SGU contest at school and obviously, "it has to be perfect".

After an hour of guzzling gummy worms and lazing about her room, I end up in front of Rachel's bookshelf and the green color of the diary stuck behind her history textbook catches my eye. I motion to grab it but obviously, she's had an eye on me the whole time.

"Don't touch that", Rachel grunts.

I want to say "Why", but I don't want to risk sounding like a creep so I whatever her and go back to going through the rest of the shelf even though I'd done that a thousand times before. I drag my hands across the spines of the books; Kara Taylor's Prep School Confidential, Carol Wyer's The Secret Admirer, and Megan Goldin's The Night Swim. You would be subtle to call Rachel a crime-thriller addict - she's more of a crime freak.

The Night Swim. There is a piece of paper sticking out of it. I pull it out of the book. Something is scribbled across it in Rachel's handwriting.

"Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away at what is good and leave only destruction behind".

"This sounds like something an Arrowverse or Marvel character would say", I laugh at Rachel.

"Cassandra Clare", Rachel calls out.

"Don't know her."

"She's one of my favorite authors. She wrote The Mortal Instruments."

"Never thought of that either", I shrug. "Where are you with your speech?"

"Literally nowhere."

"Do you want to go grocery shopping? Your fridge is empty and I'm having this weird craving for gummy worms", I suggest, not wanting to spend a second longer watching Rachel write her speech.

"Yeah, right after I finish this", Rachel points at the laptop screen and then yawns.

"I guess that's your way of saying no because we both know there is no way you are finishing that today. Not at this rate."

"I mean, it has to be perfect. The groceries can wait."

"You sure your Dad'll feel the same way? You guys are down to the last cereal, Rachel."

"Why are you pushing this, Eve? Last I remember, you weren't the one reminding me to do my chores."

"Gummy worms?"

"Right. I was planning to go tomorrow, but since you insist, I guess we could go now."

"Yeah", I nod slightly, pretending to be uninterested but the truth is I'd do anything to get away from the boredom of Rachel's room.

*****

In the car, Rachel is prattling on about how much it sucks that the Student Government Union elections are just few days away, and "that bitch", Jasmine Walters keeps stealing the hearts of the freshmen girls with her stupid, patronizing smile while the boys won't stop falling for her pretty face. But she had lost my attention about two minutes ago when we passed the D.A's office.

Rachel's Mom used to work there. That was before she died in a brutal car accident. I think it's a little weird that we pass Rachel's mom's former workplace every day and I'm the one that thinks about her - and her delicious cookies - while her daughter doesn't even seem to remember that she once existed. But it doesn't surprise me.

When she died, in order to avoid all the heart and pain, Rachel seemed to push all the memories she ever had of her deep down in her mind and cover it all up with school, her job as an attendant at the coffee shop downtown, boys and a little bit of "people die all the time". She never talks about her.

"Eve?"

"Yeah?"

"What's up with you? I was asking if your recent obsession with gummy worms has anything to do with how Evan ditched you for Australia."

She's talking about Evan Reynolds who broke up with me two weeks ago before we began senior year because he had to move to Australia with his parents.

"Absolutely not. I never really liked him anyway", I lie.

Just like Rachel I've known Evan since we were kids. He also went to the same school as us, Blue Channels High. He was the weird little boy in our neighborhood that always got made fun of by the rest because of his awkwardness. I never really paid him any attention but it's as if I just woke up someday during second semester, junior year, and decided that cute, weird, little Evan was now boyfriend material. Then, I made out with him at one of Angela Monroe's parties and we started dating.

Somewhere between being each other's plus ones and eating dinner at Hex's every Friday, I got tired of the relationship. So when he told me about the Australia "thing", instead of heartbreak, I felt relief. But now I think I'm beginning to miss him. I guess what they always say is true, "You never know the value of what you have until you lose it". Maybe Rachel's right. Maybe I'm trying to replace Evan with gummy worms.

"You know you're one to talk", I turn back to Rachel.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can see you've been avoiding him all day, Rach. Anything you'd like to share?"

"Nothing", she sighs, "It's just... he can be a lot sometimes"

I know what she's talking about. James Adams, her boyfriend, can be a little, uh, intense. He's the type of guy who'll assume you're cheating because you spent the weekend away from him or take you to a candlelit dinner because it's Valentine's. Spoiler alert: No teenage girl actually wants a candlelit dinner on Valentine's.

But there's something else in her eyes that I can't quite place.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Thought you said you'd be home by 6 pm."

I type up a reply with one hand.

"I'm helping Rachel with groceries. Will be home real soon."

"So, apart from gummy worms, what else did you come all the way out here for?", Rachel asks.

"Twizzlers? Maybe?", I play along.

"You need help", she laughs as we pull up in the parking lot of Crescent Supermarket. Rachel fishes out a piece of paper with all the items she needed to buy from her purse. Last time, we did this she had to return for the milk and cereals her dad ate every morning before rushing off to work. She always forgets one thing or the other when shopping. So, it's either the piece of paper idea was the product of a eureka moment or someone give her a piece of really thoughtful advice.

She tears the paper in two and hands one to me. I scan through it.

Apples

A dozen packs of Cheerios

A dozen cans of Mayfield Milk

Jar of peanut butter

Local bakery bread (couple of loaves)

The list goes on. I mentally add gummy worms to the list.

Crescent supermarket sits at the edge of the street directly opposite Hex's cafe which is owned by Evan Reynold's cousin, Hex. Of course, Hex is not his real name. I still don't know his real name. Evan and I used to come to the restaurant every night to order pizza or burger and then make out in his car. In a couple of days, it'll be Friday but Evan will be on the other side of the world and I'll probably be in my room watching boring YouTube videos or staring at the ceiling wondering if anyone in our school is throwing a party this weekend.

No, I'm not doing this. I'm not actually missing Evan, I tell myself. Or am I?

Rachel and I head towards the glass doors of the supermarket. Stepping inside, I steer to the right where I know I'll find the cereals and milk. Rachel goes in the opposite direction.

I am about to turn into one of the aisles when I realize I should probably pee first. The toilets are at the far end of the room so I go there. It is one of those toilets that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel rather than a grocery shop. Besides, who the hell is using all this toilet paper? While peeing, I check my phone to make sure Mom hasn't texted yet.

She hasn't.

When I'm done, I pocket my phone and head out. That's when I hear the voices. Male voices. As I turn around the corner, I see something that makes my blood chill.

A man dressed in black from his head to toe pointing a gun at the attendant - who, by the way, looks like he could pee himself... No, he certainly has done that already.

My head pounds at the realization that we are being robbed. I could pee myself too, given how terrified I am, if I hadn't peed already.

I quickly hide behind one of the shelves to avoid being detected. From my position, I can peep around the corner to see what's going on.

There are two of them - dressed in all black. Even their masks are black. One of them - the one I first saw - is still pointing a gun at the man at the counter while the other one is keeping his eyes trained on the shoppers who are already lying facedown on the floor. I can't spot Rachel but she's probably somewhere among them.

I don't know if they are just two or if there are more of them. I can hear thick voices but I can't make out what they are saying. What if they send someone to search the place just in case some people are hiding? I can't exactly walk out of my hiding place. What if someone decides to shoot first and think about it later? I'd definitely do anything to avoid getting caught up in a scene that looks like it's straight out of a version of NF's STORY from another world so I decide hiding is the best option.

I glance at my back. The toilet. It's my best chance at not getting discovered till the police arrive or if the robbers are lucky, till they escape.

A thought needles at me.

Is it not wrong to run and hide leaving my best friend at gunpoint?

No, it's better to get help than to put both our lives in danger by joining her, I counter.

I lock myself in the toilet and dial 911. I don't need a lot of words to describe my location; Crescent Supermarket is sort of popular in Blue Channels.

I just have to hang in here for few more minutes until they get here.

I keep my ears pressed to the door to listen for sounds. For the next couple of seconds, I can still hear their voices.

I catch snippets of their words.

Out... Now... Move quickly... Fucking door.

Then, I hear shuffling of feet. Dozens of feet. What is going on? Something is not right, but I remain where I am. Next thing I hear is the splashing of liquid. It's hard to concentrate through the chaos of the moment but I think hard about what possible reason could armed men have for invading a grocery store only to start splashing water all over the place like they're performing an occult ritual or something similar.

Then, I realize it's not a ritual and the liquid is not water. A single word streaks across my mind.

Gasoline.

Every bone in my body screams, "get the hell out of here". I open the door hurriedly and rush out of the toilet sprinting for the entrance but it is too late. The whole place is crashing down, the shelves are crumbling on each other and everything is on fire. I glance around. I'm surrounded by walls, shelves, shelves, shelves again, and wait! - glass.

I could try breaking through the glass if I had something to hit it with. Or something to throw at it. A couple of peanut butter jars are sitting on a shelf just beside me. I run towards it, and start picking the jars one by one hurling them with all my might at the wall of glass.

One crack. Two. Three. Getting there.

Suddenly, I spot a huge object crashing down from the ceiling. I try but it's too late to react as it hits the shelf of peanut butter jars which in turn hits me sending a wave of pain across my shoulder. The shelf then falls to the ground knocking me off my feet in the process. I fall hitting the back of my head on the ground and the last thing I feel before I black out is the smoke filling my lungs.