Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(73)

The world stopped.

Bash just stared down at it. All the breath left his body. His heart thundered; his face contorted. In one fell swoop, Jennifer killed something that meant so much to him. Yes, it was a ridiculous ’80s relic. But it meant everything to him—because Audre had rescued it. He didn’t know how she got up the nerve to dive in that water, but she did. And in her gesture lived all the memories they’d shared this summer. The only summer that’d ever mattered to him.

But now the ruined lunch box was a dark reminder. That even the most sacred moments, memories, and connections could be shattered in seconds.

Without saying a word to Jennifer, or even looking her way, he grabbed his phone from the counter. He called Audre. It rang once, twice, three times.

And then…

“Yes?” Audre’s voice sounded shaky, raspy, like she’d been screaming or crying or singing at the top of her lungs for hours. None of which sounded like things she’d do. His stomach flip-flopped and he could barely breathe.

“Where are you?” he asked finally.

“Don’t know. Walking. Near Carroll and Fifth.”

“Don’t move,” he said, already halfway out the door, ignoring his mom’s barrage of questions. “I’m coming to you. Don’t move.”





1, 2, 3, 4… THRIVE!

A Teen’s Rules for Flourishing on This Dying Planet


By Audre Mercy-Moore


Rule 11:

Who knew a 1980s relic would give me such confidence? Sometimes, reaching into the past helps you heal in the present. (Maybe that’s what my mom is trying to do with her book. But who knows.)





Chapter 31


Fifteen minutes later, Bash found Audre sitting on a bench outside a restaurant. It looked like he’d gotten dressed in the dark. In his rush to get to her, Bash hadn’t bothered changing out of his sports headband and mismatched workout clothes. He dropped everything and sprinted.

“I found you,” he gasped, bending over with his hands on his knees.

“Were you in the middle of a workout?” she asked, her voice flat and numb. Her energy was cold. Distant. Unlike her.

“Yeah, and I ran here.” He stood back up, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

She squinted up at him, using her palm to shield her eyes from the sun. Then she shrugged a little, fussing with the hem of her cutoff jean shorts. “I had second thoughts about seeing you. I was just about to go home. And never speak to you again.”

“After what I said the other night, I don’t blame you,” he admitted. “But I was wrong. I was so stupid, Audre. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was just scared of… feeling too much.” He took a breath. “So, yeah, I ran. The way I used to run—sprinting so fast it was like I could warp time.” He stopped, regulating his breathing a bit. “I used to wonder why I was born with this talent. Like, what for? Maybe this is why.”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Bash peered down at his feet for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “Maybe every run before this one was practice. So that I could be fast enough to catch you before you went home.”

Audre chewed on her lip. She said nothing.

“You didn’t sound good on the phone,” he said.

“’Cause I’m not good. Sit down—you’re making me nervous.”

He did, but he was careful to leave a respectful amount of space between them. “You, um, really dove into the ocean and found that Smurf lunch box? Why?”

“My last challenge was about fear. I was scared to dive down that deep, but I did it. So, my experiment is over,” she said. “I guess I wanted to prove that I didn’t need you to finish it. That I’m strong enough to do it myself.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” said Bash.

“I don’t know about that.” Audre looked him in the eye for the first time that day. And maybe because it felt like everything was upside down and there were no more rules—she told him everything. How she read her mom’s book. How it exposed the truth of Eva and the Mercier women. How her origins, everything she thought she knew about herself, were a lie.

And Bash hung on her every word. As Audre spoke, their hands moved closer and closer to each other’s, until she naturally slid her palm into his.

“My mom’s always been so hard on me,” sighed Audre. “How dare she? Remember the way she treated you when we came back after the party?”

“To be fair, my face was busted and I’d been out with her daughter,” said Bash.

“But it was like she found out we were a demented, flesh-eating couple just back from a cross-country killing spree.”

Frowning, Bash asked, “Isn’t that the plot of that Chalamet cannibal movie?”

“The thing is, nothing I do could ever be scarier than who she is.”

“Maybe that’s why she was hard on you. To keep you from making the same mistakes.”

“Stop defending her!” Audre whipped her head around to face him, her braids flying. “She lied to me. And we used to be best friends. I feel so betrayed.”

Bash nodded, squeezing her hand. “Do you think you sensed she was hiding something? Maybe that’s why you’re so interested in psychology? You want to fix everyone, because your family was a puzzle you couldn’t solve.”