I yawn as I flip the page in my boring algebra book. What kind of torturous device is this?

Ms. Brandowald is constantly yelling at me to not fall asleep, but it’s her fault.

I find my eyelids falling heavy and try hard not to let them close.

“Psst!” I hear someone say loudly in my ear.

I jump, falling off of my chair and onto the floor.

I had come to the library to study but found myself grabbing book after book from the shelves.

They were stacked next to me, waiting to be read while I finished my homework.

I always chose the furthest corner of the library to study.

Dusty abandoned shelves of books I had looked through once in a while behind me, and a wooden table in front of me stacked with books I had put there weeks ago.

No one _ever_ came back here.

I move my dark brown hair out of my face as a boy offers his hand to help me up.

I look up at him, and my face burns.

It’s Edgar from English and Algebra, my tutor/lab partner.

I’ve always been so awkward around him, he _is_ two years older than me.

He flashes his 34-karat gold smile, and my stomach does flip-flops.

“Sorry to bother you, but I figured I would find you back here.”

He peers around the dusty shelves.

“What did you need?” I ask, trying not to sound rude.

He scratches his head, then looks at me with his soft brown eyes.

“Oh no, not again!” I practically yell.

“Please, just one more time, I’m begging you. I designed a new model and I think it’ll-“ “You can stop right there,” I cut him off. “Last time you had a brilliant idea I broke my arm!”

He cringes.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, but I’ve been giving you private tutoring lessons in return!” He argues.

Although that’s true, and he’s super smart, and he’s been in my grade since freshman year and I’ve had a crush on him since and he’s finally acknowledged me, that didn’t change the fact that he was irresponsible.

I pick my books up off of the floor and smooth my hair.

“I’m sorry Ed, but it’s a no.” I settle back down on the wooden bench.

He sits next to me, a leg on either side of the bench.

“_Please,_ Melody. I’ll give you free tutoring for a whole other year.”

I think about it.

He stares at me.

I think about it more.

I put my pencil up to my mouth and chew on it by habit.

He tugs it out of my mouth. “Your mom told you to stop doing that.”

I glare and huff. Then I have an idea.

“If you promise me more tutoring _and_ let me chew on my pencils, I’ll go do your thing.”

I smile triumphantly, knowing I have beaten him. He cares about me as much as my mother does when it comes to hygiene, and, should I mention, my mother adored him.

“Fine.”

My smile drops.

“W-what?” I don’t get a chance to say anything else before he grabs my hand and we run out of the library.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Edgar asks me as we walk out to a blue Lamborghini in front of the library.

My jaw drops.

This is an _expensive_ looking car.

“Where’d you get the money?” I ask, puzzled, as I walk around the car.

I run my hand over the smooth sides.

“I built it, just like the rest of my amazing automobiles.”

I try too hard not to gasp, letting the realization sink in.

Edgar _was_ a genius, but I’d never really believed him until this design.

Of course, I would never let him know it.

He rushes to the passenger side I’m standing on and opens the door.

I reluctantly get in.

Surprisingly, this car doesn’t make me feel claustrophobic like the rest of my dad’s luxury cars.

“How is it?” Edgar asks squeezing into the driver's seat.

“It’s… nice. Very practical, and comfortable.” I respond, stroking the smooth leather interior.

His grin reaches his eyes, and I can’t help but smile as well.

“It has seat warmers, and can go way faster than those expensive cars at other companies!” He says proudly.

“Um… do you want to take it out for a drive?” He asks me, his face turning red.

“Are you finally asking me out on a date Edgar Pollux?” I ask blushing but trying to cover it.

He shrugs, his face as red as can be,

I laugh.

“Yes, I would love to.” He grins and starts the car.

We fly down the road and across the Golden Gate Bridge.

When he sees how I’m smiling he pushes a button, and the top opens up to make it a convertible.

Then I laugh.

No.

I _giggle_.

I hurriedly cover my mouth while Edgar laughs at me.

“If you tell _anyone_ about _any_ of this I will make your death look like an accident,” I warn him.

“No matter what.”

He laughs again.

“No matter what.”

I start feeling relaxed and take a deep breath.

Then I see a car.

Something is familiar about it.

“Edgar!” I yell, panicked.

“What, what is it?” He asks worriedly, one hand on the steering wheel.

“That car, that man, he… he-“ I try to finish the sentence, but the wind cuts me off.

“Melody, do you want me to stop the car?”

Then my words come back in a rush of anger.

That man was the reason my mother left, my father lost his heart, and I lost my family.

“Follow that car!” I yell.

Edgar doesn’t ask questions.

He pushes on the gas, and we practically fly through the traffic, trying to catch up with that car.

It becomes a race, the other man knows we’re after him.

Then I hear police sirens.

Edgar doesn’t slow.

Then the man makes a sharp turn, and Edgar does the same.

I scream as we dive off of a cliff.

A muffled voice yells my name.

I try to lift myself, but my arms and legs fail me.

The only thing I have left is my voice.

I scream as loud as I can manage.

I feel someone drag me out by my arms.

My face is bloody and covered in dirt, but Edgar is worse.

He’s cut everywhere imaginable, and one of his legs is crushed under the car.

He’s crying.

“I’m so sorry Melody, I didn’t- I shouldn’t-“ “Edgar don’t, this is all my fault,” I say sobbing and squeezing his hand with what little strength I have left.

“I’m the one who asked you to chase him, it was me, and now you’re hurt.” My blurry eyes and choked-up throat stop me from saying anything else.

He pulls me into a hug, and the sobs overtake me.

I know I should be helping him.

I know I should be calling for help.

But I don’t know what to do.

I’m afraid.

But then I’m not.

I look at his bloody and bruised face, determination seeping through me.

I stand up.

“We’re getting this car off of you.”

Edgar looks at me with desperation.

“You think you can do it?”

I don’t, but I nod anyway.

I sit down and push my back against the car, lifting with my legs.

Edgar lets out a hiss of pain.

I can’t put the car down now, he’s in too much desperation.

I run my mind through all the horrendous things that happened to me.

Mom leaving.

Dad forgetting about me.

My family falling apart.

Losing everything.

Having no friends.

That man.

I let the thoughts channel my anger.

The car lifts.

I tell Edgar to hurry and move his leg.

He moves it with his hands, unable to move it himself.

I hate his shouts of pain.

Then I let the car drop, dragging Edgar by the arms out of harm's way.

He holds onto me, refusing to let go.

I hold onto him.

I don’t try to leave.

I’m staying with him.

No matter what.