The Key Chased the Blade

I called Simon, but he didn't pick up. So I called him again. And again. And again.

And thirteen phone calls did not go through to him.

I felt something cold in the pit of my stomach and I wanted to throw up. My phone went slick in my hand from sweat. I wanted to call him for a fourteenth time, but I couldn't. I knew he wouldn't answer. So I texted him. I sent him three different messages and just closed my phone after that.

Simon, I need to see you.

Please pick up your phone.

I love you.

The last one I nearly cried sending because I knew I had lost hope then.

Alex pulled up in my driveway and I dashed out of the car and into the house. I was glad Dad forgot to lock the door. My stupid dad just saved my butt with his quirks. He always carried keys around, but he always forgot to lock up things after using them. I yanked open the door to find my hippie jacket with the key in the pocket.

I ripped it out of the plastic and raced out the door. Alex waited for me on the doormat. My heart was pounding so hard I swore it was going to rupture. "Come on, let's go," I gasped. "Hurry! To Simon's house!"

"Are you sure you've got the right key and not your house key?" Alex asked.

"I'm as sure as hell." I'd know it anywhere. The bronze metal dug into my hand as I gripped it. "Here, I'll show you, it won't fit in my door-"

But I stopped once the key slipped into the lock as easily as a hot knife would butter.

I couldn't breathe. My heart skipped a beat, and with an experimental nudge, I shifted the key around. There was a loud click of the metal bar sliding into place.

"Take it and let's go," Alex said. His voice was low and serious. "If the murderer wants this key back, they're not going to get it."

"This is my key," I whispered.

Alex closed his hand around mind and pulled out the metal. He took it from me and dropped it into his breast pocket. Then he grasped onto my hand. I squeezed it and made myself breathe.

"Yeah, let's go," I said, and we dashed to the car.