You're Breaking my Heart by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich

Author:Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Levine Querido

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OK, so Nikka’s whole “magic is real” attitude must be catching, because I keep expecting the bottom to drop out, sending us into a spectacular freefall—something like hurtling through the space-time continuum and landing smack on top of my brother—but after what feels like hours of this agonizingly slow crouch-crawl, coughing and sneezing in clouds of dust that only seem to get thicker with each step, I’m feeling less like I’m on a quest and more like a trapped mine worker.

We are inching along and we stop at every sound, so we’re going slowly; still, the ground slopes downward.

“Remember—” starts Nikka.

“Yes-s-s,” I hiss. “We all watched it together. Journey to the Center of the Earth. You guys broke my 3-D glasses. You can’t do this every minute, Nikka. Every moment is not some magical memory straight out of a book or an old movie. It’s already getting old.”

“Uh, excuse me, you broke your glasses,” says Luke. “You sat down in a huff right on top of them. I don’t even remember why you were mad.”

“Because she was awake,” says Nikka. “And you and Tunde finished the popcorn. Then he almost choked and she had to Heimlich him and totally saved his life and—”

“Are we really talking about this right now? Because—wait, shhh, what was that?” I stop. “Did you hear that?”

“I was on your side,” hisses Nikka.

“Wait,” pants Luke, who’s been bringing up the rear the whole time. He leans against the wall again, sending a bunch of somethings scurrying. Nikka shudders. His breath is coming in short, sharp bursts, and Nikka glances at me.

“Let’s take a break, um, get our bearings,” says Luke. “The backpacks, Nikka. What’s in the backpacks?”

Good question. I glance at Nikka, who looks smug, and answers, “Just supplies … you know, things I thought we’d need for a … quest.”

She is so annoying. “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing one.

I dig around in the dark and pull out three small water pouches and a bag of throat drops from one of the smaller front compartments. There are a bunch of tightly wrapped packets; I’ll look through them later. Right now, those “candy medicines” as we used to call them seem like gold, and I pass them around first, then the water pouches. For about a minute it feels kind of regular, but as we’re crouching in the darkness, I hear something in between wind and wailing, like the Zombie Castle at Playland, and I’m not laughing.

It’s water. It’s talking to me—no, shrieking at me—as we continue on in the dark. It’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t understand. All I can do is be very afraid and follow its sound.

We creep forward slowly, and the incline gets steeper.

“Ssh!” whispers Luke, even though no one has spoken for a while.

“What?” Nikka snaps.

I hear something dripping slowly, and far-off screams, and … footsteps? Multiple footsteps, moving quickly from behind us.

I know who it is before I see the three boys, now wearing retro 8 Ball jackets over their hoodies, casually running and smiling like we have no chance of escape.

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