Page 155 of Resurrection
Ty was supposed to pick me up at eight. By eight fifteen, when he still hadn’t shown up, I was getting a bit annoyed. We’d planned to leave early to avoid driving his old car in the heat. The air conditioning was broken again, and traveling to LA during the hottest part of the day would be unbearable.
By eight twenty, I was worried. By eight thirty, I was dialing the Brady’s number from our phone in the kitchen, hoping he’d pick up and give me a stupid excuse. Maybe he overslept or maybe he was packing something he forgot to pack the night before.
But no one seemed to be at home since all three of my calls went to voicemail.
I stepped out onto the porch and scanned the Brady’s front yard. It was the same as always—neatly trimmed plants, stones laid out in cute patterns.
I stared at the horizon, searching for a cloud, but the sky was wide and open and bare.
He’ll be here any minute, I thought, until I wasn’t sure I believed it.
I went back inside and paced the living room, my booted feet thuddingagainst the old wood and carpet. Adri was still asleep in his room after a night out. Mom and Dad were gone with the truck for the day. We’d already said our emotional goodbyes last night at dinner, and they left me a note on the fridge, telling me good luck, telling me to call them when I was settled. My bags were by the door, stuffed with the old dreams I’d had since I was a kid and the new dreams I’d created in high school.
I looked at my hand, at the promise ring he gave me. I wore it everywhere, every day, a silver band with the tiny white stone that whispered love and LA and forever. It stared back at me, small and shiny, a lie I didn’t want to believe.
Finally, feeling the slow burn of fear spreading through my stomach, I decided to go over to Ty’s to see for myself why he was so late.
I ran across the lawn and onto the sidewalk, then past the Bradys’ gate. The sun was already bright and unforgiving, and I dashed toward the side door to the garage Ty usually used.
I yanked at the handle, but it was locked. I knocked softly. When no answer came from the inside, I made a fist and pounded with gusto.
Silence.
The world tilted and spun. I spun too, surveying the front yard. This was when I realized Ty's car was gone. No longer in the driveway.
I stood there shouting his name for a few heartbeats like he’d magically appear if I called loud enough.
Nothing.
Panic surged through me. I sprinted to the house. It looked emptier somehow. I pushed the front door open.
"Ty?" Are you here? Hello? Mrs. Brady? Mr. Brady?"
The inside was quiet and hollow. Were they at work? Now that I thought about it, Mr. Brady’s van was gone too.
It wasn't until I heard a voice in the back yard that hope sparked. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I ran in the direction of the sound. His mother turned around, surprise and concern in her eyes.
Her hands were in the soil, dirt caked under her nails. She loved that tiny garden, the flowers that twisted up toward the sky. She was always there, always bright and warm and alive. I never knew how she made it work in the desert, how she made her flowers bloom and thrive.
"Naomi?" she uttered. "What are you doing here, sweetie?"
"Looking for Ty?" I said. "Did he go to the store? When’s he coming back? He was supposed to get me an hour ago."
The next few seconds stretched into an eternity as she stared at me, confusion knitting her brow.
"Oh, Naomi…" she finally uttered, her voice soft and awkward.
Something twisted inside me. My stomach lurched. I couldn’t breathe.
"I thought you knew." She stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans.
"Knew what?"
"He left early this morning. Must have been at sunrise."
The words hung between us like a bad dream, a horrible mistake that I couldn’t wake up from.
"Left?" I echoed, trying to catch up, trying to make sense of this new information. "He…left? Where?"
