One foot leaves the balcony. Then the other. He hangs there for a second, holding onto the bars halfway down, then one of his hands slips. He’s thrown off balance. His free hand falls to his side. There’s only one left holding on.
Jon sprints forward. Zach and I follow at his heels. Jon slams into the bars and throws his hand down.
But Angel doesn’t take it. He hangs, legs dangling into midair. Then he swings himself up with a grunt and grabs onto the bar.
Then he lets go altogether.
The three of us let out a singular, strangled cry as he falls.
But he lands safely on the balcony below.
“Shit,” Zach hisses.
All at once, it clicks into place. The last time we let Angel go loose, we almost didn’t find him. And he’d been nothing like this. Then, he’d been high. Tonight is different, though. This isn’t just high. This is erratic paranoia. We can’t lose him in the streets like this.
And if we turn around, we’ll lose him.
“Get the guards,” I say to Zach and Jon, before hoisting myself onto the ledge.
“Ruben, don’t,” Zach cries, but I’ve already flipped around. My phone begins to buzz against my leg repeatedly. Presumably Mom calling.
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “Go.”
“Come back up, holy shit,” Zach begs. “You’ll fall.”
I won’t fall. If Angel could do this high off his face, I can.
As long as I don’t look down. As long as I don’t think of how many floors we soared past on the elevator ride up half an hour ago. Of what would happen to a body if it fell that far. And how easy it would be to misstep.
Maybe I should go back up after all.
But then I sneak a peek down. Angel’s standing flush against the balcony wall, watching me. He’s poised to run.
From this angle, I can also see what he must have seen when he hung here. The balcony below us sticks out a little. I won’t even need to swing in to stick the landing. I just need to drop.
So, before I can second-guess myself, I suck in a breath and drop, serenaded by Zach’s scream.
I hit the balcony hard, and stumble, but I’m safe.
Angel’s smile is lopsided and manic. “You’re coming with me?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m coming, too.”
“I knew you got it. They haven’t sucked you in yet.”
His eyes trail past me as he speaks. I think he’s looking at the sky, but then Zach calls for me in alarm. I turn around to see a pair of legs dangling from the upper balcony.
“Jesus, Zach!” I dart forward and stand between his legs and my balcony’s ledge, so I can steer his landing. Jon’s worried face is peeking over the balcony ledge, and his hand is outstretched toward Zach just in case.
“Okay,” I say. “Drop. I’ve got you.”
Zach lands between my arms. We both turn to Angel, who’s decided to try the balcony door. To my relief, it opens. One terrifying balcony leap was enough for tonight.
He stumbles inside, and Zach and I follow into the pitch-dark room. The bed is unmade, but the room is empty. Thank god for the thriving Budapest nightlife. Saturday Breaking and Entering is the last headline we need right now.
“You know,” Zach says loudly. “I think Jon’s idea was good. Let’s go up to his room and get him drunk!”
Angel either doesn’t hear him or ignores him, still muttering to himself about Chorus. He bursts through the front door into the hallway, with Zach and me on his heels. I already know where we’re going. The fire exit.
Zach pulls out his phone. I expect him to message Jon, but instead he starts a FaceTime call with him. Of course—so Jon and the guards know exactly where we are. I’m impressed.
Jon answers as we start down the fire escape stairs, but before he speaks, Zach holds a finger to his lips. Then he taps the screen to turn the video around and film us as we run.
The escape opens into a dimly lit underground garage filled with cars. Angel turns in a circle, looking for an exit, and I wonder if Zach and I should just tackle him. Together, we could surely take him. But I’m not sure how violent Angel might be in this state. I don’t want to hurt him. And if he hurt Zach because of a call I made, I’d never forgive myself. So, I decide, we just stall him. Jon and the guards can’t be more than a minute off. The guards will know how to deescalate this.
“So, where do you wanna go?” I ask Angel in the calmest voice I can muster. My phone starts to vibrate again, and it speeds my heart rate even more. Focus, I need to focus, and I can’t focus with Mom trying to reach me, because when Mom’s mad at me, bad things happen. I try to ignore the buzzing. I try.