Social Suicide by Gemma Halliday

Author:Gemma Halliday [Gemma Halliday]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: David_James Mobilism.org
ISBN: 9780062114501
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-04-25T14:48:13+00:00

I took half an hour to indulge in a pity-party chocolate bar from Powell’s before I hoofed it down North Santa Cruz Ave to meet Nicky at Oak Meadow Park. I was determined that despite my detour into the stupid lane, my night was not going to be a total bust. So Chase only saw me as a reporter. Fine. That was easier on my stomach anyway. But this week I’d better be a fudging good one and turn in something more than fluff.

I walked as fast as my legs would take me in the tight skirt and ridiculously high heels that Sam had made me wear, all the while chanting to myself that I would never listen to her wardrobe advice again.

I looked down at my cell readout as I crossed Highway 9—7:54. I picked up the pace, half jogging until my calves cramped up, then checked my cell again. 7:58. No way was I going to make our rendezvous time. I bit my lip, praying that Nicky would wait for me.

At 8:06 I finally hit the corner of University and the gates to Oak Meadow Park.

As far as city parks went, it was large: a playground with two big jungle gyms at one end and a carousel and miniature train station at the other. Between them spanned picnic areas and a large expanse of grass used by the local soccer league in the summer.

At this time of night, everything was dark and the gates were closed. I did a brief over-the-shoulder, waiting until there was a break in the passing traffic, then quickly hopped the fence. Or, it would have been quickly if my stupid heels hadn’t gotten stuck in the metal diamonds. I finally kicked them off and threw them over the gate, cringing as they skidded in the dirt on the other side. Sam wasn’t going to be happy about that. On the second try, I slipped over the fence, landed with a thud on the other side, put the shoes back on (only scuffed a little), then picked my way down the gravel pathway to the miniature train station.

The train was a big draw for kids during the weekends and summer break, the station packed with lines of toddlers waiting for the three-dollar rides. But tonight the train was silent, and the giant clock set in the Victorian-style steeple of the station ticked eerily in the dark.

I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I’d worn something a little warmer, and quickly made tracks toward the quiet station.

I was a few feet away when I spotted a figure in the shadows, just behind the roundhouse. By the dark hair sticking out from under a skater beanie, I could tell it was Nicky. I was about to call out when I saw another person approach him.

I paused. Nicky hadn’t said anything about bringing friends. Suddenly I felt a little outnumbered, standing in the shadows.

Which was ridiculous, because I was just going to talk and get a story. The dark, the quiet, and the eerie Victorian station were giving me the creeps.

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