Free Zomburbia by Adam Gallardo

loud silence followed that. I heard the kitchen clock ticking away in the other room. The ice cracking in my glass sounded like a gunshot.
    Brandon steepled his fingers together and looked down at the table.
    â€œWell,” he said, “now that we’ve broken the ice . . .”
    I giggled nervously until he looked up and I saw his grin. Then I giggled for real. He and Elsa joined in, and I felt something go out of the room. It felt better. We actually started to talk after that—not just waiting for our turn to say something. A real conversation. It was nice. For a while. Until it was time to leave.
    Elsa looked at the time on her phone and frowned. “I have to get going, guys,” she said. “My folks are expecting me back.”
    â€œMe, too, I guess,” I said.
    We all stood and started to move toward the door.
    â€œOkay, you two,” Brandon said, “drive safe.”
    Elsa said she would, and I must have had one of those looks on my face. It would have been easy enough for me to say okay, too, even though I hadn’t driven. To be honest, there’s a part of me that never wants to miss an opportunity to correct someone.
    â€œWhat?” Brandon asked.
    â€œWell,” I said, “I’ll ride safely . I rode my bike.”
    â€œOh,” Brandon said, “you should let me give you a ride.”
    â€œNo, that’s okay,” I said, “I don’t live far from here and I don’t want to leave my bike.”
    â€œIt’s not okay,” Brandon said. “I can’t let you ride your bike home.”
    â€œExcuse me,” I said. “You can’t let me ?”
    We were between Elsa and the door. I shot her a look, and I could tell she wanted to be anywhere other than where she was.
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s dark out, Courtney,” Brandon said, and I could tell he was as frustrated with me as I was with him. “And you told that story about the lady who got attacked today!”
    â€œFirst of all,” I said, “I can take care of myself. Second, even if I couldn’t, you are not who I’d run to to save me. So, please, take your macho, chauvinistic bullshit and cram it!” I threw the door open and checked Brandon as hard as I could with my shoulder. Granted, he barely moved. I heard footsteps on the driveway behind me and turned to see Elsa getting her keys out of her purse. Thank God Brandon hadn’t come after me.
    I hopped on my bike and was about to ride away when she spoke to me. “You know,” she said, “he was just trying to be nice.”
    â€œYeah, well,” I said, “he was being kind of a dick about it.”
    She shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “Do you want a ride? We could probably put your bike in the trunk.”
    â€œNo,” I said, “but thanks. I don’t have far to go.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, and climbed into her car and pulled out onto the street.
    I made my own way behind her. It was a lot easier getting out of the subdivision than it had been getting in. The security guard seemed eager to have me leave. That made two of us.
    I heard the gate clang shut behind me and I rode out into the darkness on my way home.

CHAPTER SIX
This Is Too Much
    I ’m going to admit right up front that turning down that ride from Brandon was not one of my best ideas. Or, to put it another way: I was stupid to ride my bike home in the dark. The first mile or so was fine since I had to ride up Commercial Street with all of its traffic streaming by. The passing cars and the well-lit parking lots made me feel safe. Hell, I almost forgot that it was dark outside.
    Almost, that is, until I turned off the main drag onto Madrona Street and slowly left the halogen lights of the parking lots behind. Madrona is a really steep hill at that point, and, because I refused to get off and walk my bike up the incline, I was a sweaty,