Blend

05:00 | fourth quarter

I'M EATING a pop tart when Devyn's text comes through, throwing me off guard.

I blink at it several times before it makes sense. After reading it over and over, a feeling of what can only be described as pure joy floods my lungs.

I jump up from the couch, hollering. Pop tart parts fly all over the place. "Fuck yeah! That's my girl!"

After dance-punching the air and twirling like a ballerina, I fall back on the couch, spent.

I can't believe it.

Devyn and Peewee came through.

We know the real murderer now.

I blink down at the text again, my mouth hanging open. I'm not sure who the fuck Ben Perry is but he and I will definitely be having words.

I scan Devyn's text again, my smile fading.

Wait.

Devyn is heading to a murderer's dorm room on her own.

Peewee might be with her but what the hell is she going to do if this dude comes after Dev? And better yet, what if Peewee becomes so worked up, she possesses Devyn again?

I jet to my feet. My fingers can't type fast enough.

I feel every second that ticks by, eagerly looking at my phone and awaiting the three dotted lines. But after two minutes pass with no reply, I decide to take a more aggressive approach and call her.

The line rings and rings until—"Hi, you've reached Devyn. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks."

Frustrated, I click "end" and dial her again. It rings and rings until—"Hi, you've reached Devyn—"

I hang up and try again.

This girl still doesn't answer.

By this point, my heart is racing and I'm thinking the worst. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands.

Desert Cove Apartments is a good fifteen minute drive from campus. I could walk or pick up a Lyft but what I can't do is just sit here and let Dev face Peewee's murderer alone. If he killed once, he'll kill again. Especially once he realizes she hasn't gone to the police yet.

I head to the door, my mind made up. No more hiding. I don't care if everyone and their mother recognizes me.

Before I know it, I'm opening the door, sipping up breaths of courage.

The first thing I notice is the pink and purple sunset. And it's breathtaking, almost like a confirmation from the Universe that this whole nightmare is about to end—that good things are on the horizon.

The second thing I notice is my cousin Kaycee backing up in her Honda Civic. She must've just got back from her baby sister's volleyball game and is heading home.

I dart out into the road, waving my arms like a madman. Kaycee slams on her breaks, cussing. When she finally realizes it's me, she rolls her window down.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she whisper-screams.

We don't got time for pleasantries so I come around to the passenger side and get right in. "I need you to take me to ASU."

"No, you need to get your black-ass back in that apartment before someone sees you. Have you lost your damn mind?"

"Devyn knows who killed Penelope and she's on her way to confront the killer. And now she won't answer my calls."

Kaycee sighs. "No offense, cuz, but that girl don't sound like the brightest crayon in the box, you feel me? I mean, why not just call the police?"

"She wants to confirm something. You gotta take me now before this dude does something to her next."

"Our Father who art in Heaven, mm mm mm." Kaycee motions for me to close my door. "Alright, I'll take you. I hope to God she's right about this 'cause if not, you're going right back in jail. You sure she's telling you the truth about all this?"

"I trust her, Kaycee. She's got the right guy. Now please, please hurry!"

| | |

The thing about basketball is that you can sweat your ass off during quarters one, two, and three, but if you don't keep that momentum up through fourth quarter, it's over.

Coach sometimes calls it "church time" because he recognizes that there's something redemptive about a team's work effort when they're in that eleventh hour. And that's what this feels like—like there's some internal clock ticking and I have to make it before the buzzer goes off.

During the drive, I dial Dev again. The phone line rings and rings and I start to bounce my knee.

"Hi, you've reached Devyn. Leave a message and—"

"Fuck." I hang up. "No answer."

After texting in all caps to CALL ME, I dial her again. And as the ring trills, my heart spikes with worry—of every little thing that could be happening to her at this moment.

"Hi, you've reached Dev—" I slam the phone into the floorboard.

Kaycee side eyes me. Probably because I'm acting like a lunatic. "You really care about this girl, Lil Wally."

"I do." I squeeze my eyes shut. "If that dude lays a hand on her, I swear Kaycee. I'll really need to go to jail then."

"Alright, calm down. We'll get there. We're only five minutes away now."

"Thank you for doing this."

"I'm only doing this because you really trust her." She lowers the music. "So what's the game plan when we arrive? Whatchu want from me?"

It feels so good to have people have your back with no questions, no doubts, only faith. I'm left stunned a moment before I reply, "I'll head directly to Murray Dorm. You head for campus police and meet me there."

Kaycee hisses. "You sure, Wally? If I grab them then that's it. It's over. They'll have you for good. Ain't no way you'll get lucky a second time."

I nod, sure. "Yes. I trust Devyn."

"Okay," Kaycee says. "Then Ima call the fam, too. I want us all there in case they arrest you again. We'll film everything and sue their asses if they pound you into the ground again."

A deepened appreciation washes over me. "Kaycee, have I ever told you that you're my favorite cousin?"

She smiles. "It was never in question."