I plowed down the streets with no real sense of where I was going. One of my rubber handle bars lay in the middle of the road somewhere because I twisted it off, pretending it was a certain news reporter's head. Head turned tree trunk.

I gripped my cell phone in my blood-spattered fist, waiting for Jo to text me back. Tram needed to know. Now.

When I cut through the video store parking lot, a gray car sliced off the road and through my path. Out jumped Callum, ...