Rise of Midnight Read online

  We stumbled out of the back seats in our shoes, and just as she promised, Sonya sped off. A blast of cold air hit me. I shuddered and checked to be sure the hand towel I had pressed against my chest hid enough of me. The boys covered themselves with their hands as they took off. I dashed after them as fast as my short legs could carry me. We darted down the street together, a parade of idiots.

  “Lose the towel and panties!” Ben shouted at me as he passed.

  “Dude, shut up! That’s my sister!” Jacoby hollered without missing a beat.

  “Sorry. I forgot,” Ben stifled himself.

  Marcus and Frank erupted into laughter. As I ran, I tried not to laugh at the pale, bouncing rear-ends ahead of me. I had to save my energy for the rest of the run, but I just couldn’t hold back. I lost it as the boys moved on yards ahead of me.

  “Oh, my dear Lord!” an elderly woman on her porch exclaimed at the sight of us.

  I only looked in her direction for a split second before passing by her property. Her neighbors across the street were having a party of their own. Lights beamed in every window, music played inside while people drank and smoked on the porch. Everyone in the yard stared on and cheered as we ran. Outrageously embarrassed, I darted as fast as I could after the naked boys.

  Frank’s headlights came into view just ahead. Three other cars I didn't recognize were parked just behind his, and I guessed they belonged to a few of the people who’d tagged along to watch. We jumped into Frank’s backseats. Jericho, who sat in the trunk space, closed the doors and handed each of us a towel to cover up with. The heat inside would have been a huge relief from the cold if I could’ve felt it. My nose and fingertips stung by then, the rest of my skin numb as I shivered uncontrollably.

  “Hey, Kev. Give her the cash I gave you. She earned it,” Ben said in a quivering voice from under his towel.

  Kevin threw me one hundred bucks in twenties from the driver’s seat. I felt horrible taking the money, but I wouldn’t feel so guilty after I took it with me to the mall the next day. I still wanted a new coat.

  “Someone called the cops!” Frank burst, astounded as we pulled off the street we’d raced down.

  “Really?” Jericho questioned.

  “Yeah, look.” Frank pointed out of the window.

  Cobalt blue lights bounced off the houses in the distance but vanished as they neared.

  “Well, that was fast,” Marcus said through chattering teeth.

  “It was probably that old lady we passed,” I giggled.

  “Do you blame her?” Jacoby snickered. “She either called the cops on us or the house party we passed.”

  Kevin sped out of the neighborhood and around the block. We squeezed into our clothes in the back seat, trying not to expose any unnecessary flesh to one another.

  “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of our system, it’s back to the party,” Kevin chuckled, but Jacoby called it a night for us as we parked in front of Ben’s house.

  “It’s getting late,” my brother said through a yawn. “We need to get going. Gotta get up for church in the morning.”

  “Alright, man,” Ben replied with obvious disappointment. “After what we just did, you’re going to need to be in church, anyway. Thanks for dropping me off. Are you coming to Mathew’s birthday party next Friday?”

  “I am,” Jacoby confirmed.

  “Awesome. You should bring that pretty Eden by, too,” Ben suggested as he got out of the car.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jacoby promised.

  “The rest of you guys are welcome to come, too!” Ben called to us and waved before he met Sonya in the driveway.

  Everyone climbed over seats. Before I knew it, we were all sitting right where we were when Frank picked us up earlier, far more comfortable than the way we were crammed in earlier.

  “Okay, a stop for food and then home,” Frank mapped out the rest of the evening for us.

  After picking up some burgers through the drive-through, we dropped Marcus and Kevin off at their houses. Frank swung the steering wheel around, making Jericho and me scream as we pulled out of Kevin’s neighborhood. The back tire scraped a curb. Fries went everywhere. Frank made a funny face in the rearview mirror at us.

  “Frank! Not so crazy, please!” Jericho squealed while I giggled.

  “Okay, okay,” Frank laughed.

  We merged onto the interstate toward home as Jacoby and Frank cut up in the front seats. My eyes grew heavy as I stared out of the window. I could always find the city limits just by looking at the lamp lights. Most people wouldn’t notice it unless they’ve lived in Chicago for a while, but the lamp lights were like a divider—golden in the city and white in the suburbs.

  “So, Autumn.”

  Frank’s voice plucked me from my daze. We spotted each other in the rearview mirror.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you going to your prom with? Juniors and seniors can go this year, right?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll go,” I answered. “No one’s asked me yet.”

  Something caught my eye. Four shadowed beings stood on the overpass on the outside of the railing, staring down at the traffic. The streetlights overhead silhouetted their forms. Their eyes shined like pearls except for the one on the far right whose eyes appeared gold against the darkness.

  “Well, Jacoby and I were talking. I know I’m in college and everything and you are my best friend’s sister, but—” Frank began.

  I could hardly pay attention. I unbuckled my seatbelt to peer between the front seats.

  “Autumn, what are you doing?” Jericho asked as I brushed past her toward the windshield, interrupting Frank.

  I squinted to get a better view of the figures, but we zipped under the bridge too quickly.

  There was no warning.

  Something dark fell from above. It landed heavily on the hood of the truck. The entire vehicle jolted. Frank slammed on the brakes. I hit the middle console and fell back in my seat. The air burst from my lungs. I watched a section of the windshield shatter, revealing a kneeling figure on the hood. Tires screeched and car horns blew as Frank lost control of the truck. We effortlessly spun across four lanes of traffic. Headlights of other cars bounced off the windows, blinding me. I heard screams, but I wasn’t sure if they were mine or Jericho’s.

  I woke up in a haze, my vision blurred. A dull ringing resonated in my ears. I tried making sense of what happened. Pain seared through my lower back and head. With the way everything looked around me, I could easily tell the truck was on its side now, and I lay there with my back on the passenger door. I could just make out my sister who hung from her seat belt above me, her voice muffled as she cried out our names. She clawed at her seat belt. A heavy feeling suppressed my lungs. Strange noises filtered in, but they were muted, hard to make out, like someone had their hands cupped tightly over my ears. I watched Jericho lose consciousness above me as blood oozed from a wound in her head. The faint ringing proceeded, but I could make out voices now, murmurs at first. They became ever so clear from just outside the car.

  “He’s not going to be happy about this,” a man with a quiet voice said.

  “What was that boy thinking? Where is he?” a raspy voice spoke up. “He stopped the car for us and left.”

  “I just hope he didn’t kill her in the process. Get her out! We don’t have time for this.”

  “I’m calling Arlos,” a woman’s voice interrupted.

  The body of the truck moved slightly, dragging across the concrete.

  “No, not yet,” the one with the gruff voice ordered. “Give us another minute.”

  There were three distinct voices now as shadows glided across the inside of the car, their movements quick and frantic. Sluggishly, I rolled over on my back, an overwhelming dizziness taking me over. Nausea swept over me. I closed my eyes to gather myself before trying to look around again. Distant sirens rose loud in my ears, and red flashing lights filled the cab.

  One of the voices curse.
“We don’t have enough time. Go. We’ll regroup later.” With that, the shadows and voices disappeared.

  Waking up while being rolled down a bright corridor was one of the most terrifying experiences I’d ever had up until that point. I didn’t know where I was, the memory of the crash completely non-existent. I fell in and out of consciousness. Blurry people ran around me. It wasn’t long before I realized where I was, before I could remember what happened. And when it all came flooding back, worry engulfed me. My brother, my sister, Frank—were they okay?

  When my vital signs were checked, I repeatedly asked the nurses where my siblings were. No one could give me a straight answer, only said something about how my scan went. After rolling me into a room and helping me into a bed, one of the nurses that tended to my minor cuts and bruises asked me several questions about how I felt. She then explained that I had a mild concussion.

  She sat me up and asked that I give the two policemen who had filed into the room a detailed report of what happened. I did, making sure to tell the officers about the people standing on the overpass, that they were the ones who’d caused the accident. I kept picturing those glowing eyes, but that was one detail I left out in my account to the police. The last thing I needed was to be questioned for possible drug use. They also informed me that none of the other witnesses, including my sister, had mentioned seeing anyone falling from the overpass. This left me feeling crazy. I promised myself I would question Jericho and Jacoby about this once we were home safe.

  But I would soon forget about it for a time after this. The police left when the doctor came to talk to me. Frank was in an induced coma, and according to the doctor, his chances of survival were slim. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt at the time of the accident and was thrown from the car. A sickening image of Frank’s body hitting the guardrail raced across my mind. The doctor continued. Jericho, like me, had a concussion along with a minor head wound.

  And then, he dropped a bomb on me. Jacoby had not survived the wreck. My head swooned as the doctor solemnly explained—the paramedics relentlessly tried to revive him on the way to the hospital, but he was pronounced dead upon arrival. My ears rang all over again, and my palms started sweating. The nurse came in and said our parents had been called and were on the way. I could feel the blood drain from my face right before I fainted.

  *

  The funeral was beautiful, for a funeral, I mean. It was a horrible experience, and I dreaded going. Despite the reason we were all there, the ceremony itself was lovely and somehow comforting. I even felt a sense of closure, and that in itself was healing. Every minute I’d ever spent with Jacoby as far back as I could remember resurfaced, playing over and over in my head throughout the ceremony. Floral arrangements adorning the closed casket and church pillars hung like muted pastel paintings. I recognized Jacoby’s senior picture from the year before, blown up on a sixteen-by-twenty canvas at the front of the aisle. A slideshow of pictures we’d gathered from Jacoby’s childhood up until this year played behind the altar. Muted piano music accompanied it.

  I sat in front with my family. We didn’t have any extended family alive other than my grandma, so it was just us. Mom was inconsolable as person after person arrived and made a beeline for her. I saw Kevin, Marcus, Ben and a handful of others along with Frank’s parents. A group of college students had shown up but only one or two I knew. Gemma and some of my closest friends from school came to hug me. Tears streamed down my face as they tried to console me, but the hurt had only begun to penetrate.

  My sister and I, along with two of Jacoby’s friends, went to the front and gave a few words after the pastor spoke. My brother’s friends expressed how big Jacoby’s spirit was, how he watched out for others before himself, how much they admired him. A girl went to the front and read a poem she wrote. The eulogy Jericho wrote sounded far more organized and formal than mine. Her way with words and ability to read through it so smoothly amazed me. It felt like the others talked longer than I did, but that didn’t matter to me. I’ve never been good at public speaking, so instead of writing a eulogy, I read off a list of my childhood memories with Jacoby like a letter to him. I cried through most of it, not knowing or caring whether anyone could understand me or not.

  As the ceremony came to a close, the pastor said some prayers and the casket was carried out. A group of Jacoby’s friends hesitantly came to stand with my family. We hugged one another wordlessly. There was something about one of the girls in the group that drew my attention. She was the one who read a poem at the altar. She watched me as I parted from a hug with someone else. I pretended not to notice her. I had a feeling she wanted to chat, but I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Hi, I’m Eden. Eden Overton,” she came to me and said.

  Her first name rang a bell. Though they were flushed from crying, her bright honey-colored eyes met mine. She tenderly spoke to me as if to hold our conversation apart from the one brewing around us.

  “Jacoby was a close friend,” she said through a bright smile that faded as she spoke. She held back as if wanting to say more before brining me into a hug. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispered. “Not in a million years would I have guessed that I—” She stopped herself.

  “What?” I asked as we parted.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice trailing off like a light breeze.

  She glanced at someone behind me, turned and left. Confused by Eden’s words, I went back to my parents. They stood with Sammy, my grandmother and Jericho alongside Jacoby’s friends still talking noiselessly.

  Snow flurries fell from the sky at the burial site. The sun played hide and seek among the clouds floating overhead. My mind raced through the entire burial. I didn’t know what I was going to do without Jacoby. With him gone, I felt I wasn’t completely whole anymore, like I’d been left behind somehow. My mind couldn’t fully wrap around the concept of death even though my grandfather passed away last year. I just couldn’t comprehend how someone could be there one minute and gone the next. The thought, among many others, would haunt me for weeks, mostly at night while lying in bed. It left me with an empty feeling in my stomach.

  And then, I found myself thinking back to elementary school—Jericho, Jacoby and me playing in the yard after school. I don’t know why I thought back to that time in our lives, why it was a time when we were so young. Maybe it reminded me of how carefree we were and how simple life used to be.

  A handful of my parents’ friends who went to the funeral came to the house after the service. They brought with them an abundance of food, helping us carry it all in with the flower arrangements that were sent to us. Shortly after they left, Mom put Sammy to bed and turned the lights out downstairs. Jericho and I went upstairs without eating. Before she went to her room, I spoke up.

  “Jericho, I just don’t understand how you didn’t see them,” I began.

  It was the second time I’d tried talking to her about it, tried to grasp how she didn’t see the people on the overpass just before the wreck. But just as she had the night before, she reacted the same.

  “Autumn, I told you. I didn’t see anything, and I didn’t see anything fall on the car. Now stop saying crazy things like that. You’re freaking me out. Get some sleep.”

  While she got ready for bed, I stepped into Jacoby’s room. The place was left in shambles, but no one had dared step foot through the door frame since the night of the wreck six nights earlier. As if his belongings would turn to ash in my hands, I picked everything off the floor and put them where they belonged, throwing his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and making his bed. Under his backpack, I found the high school class ring he never wore—a white-gold crested ring with our school initials engraved on the band below the shield-like stone, a sapphire—his birthstone. Tears rose in my eyes, and I set the ring on his desk.

  I’d almost finished cleaning and rearranging when I happened upon a piece of paper under his laptop. Flipping it over, I found a picture of Jacoby with a familiar and b
eautiful bronze-skinned girl under his arm. I recognized her.

  She was the girl from the funeral. Eden.

  I grew warm all over as I took the picture to my room. I found an old wooden five-by-seven frame in my vanity drawer. After pulling the splintering frame open, I stopped myself from folding Eden out of the picture. I didn’t know her personally, but she seemed so sweet at the funeral—weird, but sweet.

  I laid the picture flat in the frame, closed it up and set it on the vanity beside the smaller picture of Gemma and me. In the picture, Jacoby held the camera in one hand with his right arm woven tightly around Eden’s slender shoulders, their heads tilted in together. Her smile was big and bright and his larger than I’d ever seen. His eyes even sparkled. He looked like an angel...

  This ignited a memory. I went to my closet to find the tiny angel figurine. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about it. I’d hidden it away as soon as Jacoby gave it to me, but didn’t have the heart to hide the figurine anymore. I took it from my closet’s shelf and placed it on my windowsill.

  One of Jacoby’s creepy friends from school once told him he thought I was an angel after we met at a football game. I was horrified by the encounter, but it became a running joke between us. Jacoby would tell me, “Ooh, but you’re an angel, Autumn!” just to watch me cringe and yell at him to shut up. And then, for Jacoby to have given me that silly figurine for Valentine’s Day last year with my name written on the base of it just made the joke all the more intolerable.

  The angel was a porcelain cast. She sat with one ivory leg bent so she could be set at the edge of a shelf with that leg dangling over. Her dainty wings and long flowing hair were embraced in a light splash of dust-like glitter, and they glistened in the light. Her face held a serene expression as if she were thinking of someone she loved—just a hint of a smile with eager and lively eyes.