Chapter 1
Tuesdays were usually nothing. But this one? This Tuesday felt different, even before everything shattered. Camilla, my best friend, was high on some secret joy, practically bouncing as we walked to our separate school prisons, King’s Town for me, Winterhigh for her.
I was already in the thick of my morning rant, a ridiculous tale from the public pool where Javier and I lifeguarded, trying to cut through her blissful distraction.
“Camila, you won’t fucking believe this, there was this crazy bitch complaining her kids wouldn’t shower before getting in the pool, swearing they’d catch pneumonia! Javier was trying to be all diplomatic. I mean, come on, just follow the damn rules. Lady, seriously, if your kids catch pneumonia from showering, why the hell would you let them swim in a pool full of other people’s piss? Right, Cammie? Are you even listening?”
“Yes, Mela, I hear you,” she giggled, eyes glued to her phone.
She wasn’t, not really. She was texting Donovan, her annoying as hell boyfriend who always seemed to monopolise her attention. Her golden blonde hair twirled around her finger, those blue eyes sparkling with sickening excitement every time his name popped up. That was it. Last straw. I snatched the phone, took off running.
“Come on, Mela, this is so immature. Just give me my phone back!” she called out, still laughing.
“Well, Ms. Mature, come get your phone back. I’m sure Donovan has something super important to say to you,” I teased, sprinting across the streets of Venice.
I stopped, finally, giving her a chance to catch up. She was almost there. And then the car. It just… appeared. Slammed into her. A chilling, sickening sound of flesh and glass shattering. She hit the broken windshield, then fell, limp, to the ground.
Blood. So much fucking blood. Her crisp white shirt instantly soaked crimson. The car reversed, tires screeching, and sped away, leaving everyone stunned. I caught a glimpse of the driver—a shadowy figure behind a terrifying vendetta mask. My heart seized in my chest. I bolted towards Camilla, tears streaming down my face.
I screamed, panic clawing at my throat.
“Qualcuno, per favore, aiuti, chiami l’ambulanza!”
A wave of people surged forward, some fumbling with phones, others just staring, faces etched with horror. In the chaos, I saw Julian, Javier’s older brother, leap into his car. Pure determination blazed in his brown eyes, catching the sunlight through his glasses as he peeled out, chasing the fleeing vehicle.
Eight agonising minutes. That’s how long it took for the ambulance to arrive. They carefully loaded her onto the stretcher, dread settling heavy and cold in my stomach. I fumbled for my mom’s number, my voice trembling.
“Mamma, please hurry! Camilla... she’s been hit by a car!”
Ten excruciating minutes later, Mom’s car screeched to a halt. She was in her office dress, short, wavy brown hair flying. Without a word, we tore off to the hospital, fear twisting inside me like a goddamn knot. Once there, Mom’s eyes frantically searched.
“How is she?”
“She’s in surgery,” a nurse said, and my world tilted. I curled up in a waiting room chair, tears streaming, the brutal reality crushing me.
An hour later, the door swung open. The surgeon, grim-faced.
“Is there anyone here for Miss Duval?”
Mom stood up.
“Camilla lives with her grandmother, who isn’t here. Just tell me. I’m her best friend’s mother.”
I rose, walked to her side, anxiety a live wire zipping through me.
“The surgery was successful,” the doctor began, a tidal wave of relief washing over me—until he kept talking.
“However, there was a complication.”
“What do you mean?” I gasped, my heart hammering. “She’ll be okay, right?”
“Tesoro, let the doctor speak,” my mother said softly, squeezing my hand, her eyes locked on the doctor.
His next words fell like lead. “Her spinal cord is severely damaged. Without a miracle, she won’t be able to walk again.”
My world shattered. The dam broke. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. Mom guided me back to my chair, then left to fetch water. My phone buzzed. Julian. I answered, my heart feeling like a lead weight.
“Hey, Mela. Javier and Donovan are on their way. I promise I’ll keep you updated on the situation with the car. Take care, okay?”
“Okay,” I choked out, my voice thick with unshed tears.
“You take care too, Julian,” I managed before hanging up, the weight of the world pressing down on me.
Mom came back with the water. Her phone rang. The principal. She squeezed my hand, then rushed off. Moments later, Javier, Donovan, and Rosabelle burst into the waiting room, their faces lighting up when they spotted me.
Donovan plopped onto the bench right in front of Camilla’s operating room, raking a hand through his thick, luscious brown hair, his hazel eyes glinting with worry. Javier and Rosabelle hurried to my side. Javier’s black hair was a mess, and Rosabelle’s curly brown-black hair was in a messy bun. Both their brown eyes searched my face for answers I couldn’t give.
Rosabelle’s gentle touch brushed the tears from my face. Javier pulled out his handkerchief, a soft square of fabric, and handed it to me. Overwhelmed, I buried my face against Rosabelle’s shoulder, and Javier’s hand settled on my back, a solid comfort. Her scent—calming, like jasmine—wrapped around me, a fleeting reminder of home.
After what felt like an eternity, a nurse finally beckoned us in. Camilla lay there, still groggy from the anaesthesia, Mom gently by her side. IV tubes snaked into her left wrist, a stark reminder of the trauma.
Donovan was first, bending to press a tender kiss to her forehead, his fingers lightly tracing her cheek. Then Rosabelle and I followed. My heart pounded as I brushed her hair back, trying to soothe her, while Rosabelle held her hands. Javier came and put his hand around my shoulder. And then, as if the full weight of it had just crashed down, she broke, her voice a fragile whisper.
“I won’t be able to walk again.”
Suddenly, the peaceful silence exploded. Machines erupted in frantic beeping, alarms blaring like sirens. The doctor rushed in, urgency etched on his face.
“Everyone out! We need to check her vitals!”
We stumbled out, the air thick with tension. I clutched Javier’s hand, squeezing so hard I thought I’d cut off his circulation, but I couldn’t let go. Each minute stretched into an eternity, the cacophony of beeping fading into a haunting echo. Finally, after what felt like hours, the harsh noises subsided, the alarms silenced. The doctor emerged, his expression grim, walking towards my mom.
“She will stay here for at least three to five days. We need to monitor her. Please inform her grandma. Visiting hours are 9 a.m. to 9 p.m.,” he said before disappearing back into the room.
Mom rushed off to Camilla’s house to speak with her grandmother. The rest of us—Javier, Rosabelle, Donovan, and I—were left alone, restless, trapped by our helplessness. We walked out of the hospital, the sterile scent clinging to our clothes, and headed to a cosy café nearby. Urgency buzzed between us. Javier pulled out his phone and dialled Julian.
“Julian, what’s going on? Did you track down the car?” we all chimed in, a chorus of anxiety and desperate hope.
“Yeah, I found it! It led me straight to Springbloom High—the place where all the rich kids hang out,” he replied.
“Listen, Julian, you need to call the police right away. We’re heading there now, okay?”
I urged, my heart racing with every goddamn word.
“Got it,” Julian said, and Javier ended the call.
Without wasting another fucking moment, we piled into Donovan’s car, adrenaline pumping through our veins as we sped toward Springbloom High. The stakes were impossibly high. This wasn’t over.
