“Neither should you.” He glared at me, annoyed.
“Wait here,” I instructed. “Don’t engage with him. There are people everywhere, and these are not the kind of people we want to fuck with.”
I walked past Clay and towards Blake; his face was pale but he still had a grip on the bag. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted it or if he was having a panic attack.
“Give it back!” I demanded.
“What the hell is that thing?” Blake repeated as he moved closer to the road.
“It doesn’t matter.” I closed my fist. “Give me that bag. Now.”
“Anna, I think we have a problem,” I heard Clay say from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see all the men from the deck had followed us to the front of the building. Clay was visible, and they were all staring at him.
“What the hell?!” I heard John yell.
The rest of the crew looked shocked to see Clay standing there, in his true form.
“Blake, get away from them!”
“What is that animal?”
“Lock the doors!”
The voices echoed across the parking lot. Clay looked at me—his biggest fear was playing out in front of us. He looked frozen, unsure of what to do. He was trying to catch his breath, just like me, just like…Blake.
“I’m not giving you anything, you freaks!” Blake had made it to the edge off the road.
From the distance, I heard a loud honk and saw headlights flash. I couldn’t let anything happen to the journal—no more playing nice. I ran up to Blake, managed to grab hold of one end of the bag, and pulled; he fell forward but kept his strong grip.
“Let go, the strap is going to break!” I yelled.
Maybe I should have just let go. Because what happened next changed everything.
“Anna, let it go!” I suddenly heard Clay scream.
I hadn’t heard him yell like that before and it made me pause and look back. He was running towards us. When I turned back to Blake the strap on my bag finally broke. The bag flew into the air, out of all of our reach, and landed in the road.
“Shit!” I yelled.
I looked to the left and saw an eighteen-wheeler barrelling towards us. I pushed Blake to the ground and darted for the bag. It was dark and I knew the truck wouldn’t see any of us, but I kept running.
“Anna!” I could hear Blake’s voice. “What the hell are you doing?”
Before I reached the bag, Blake grabbed my arm to haul me back. But I twisted his wrist and kicked him in the knee. The lights from the eighteen-wheeler lit me up, and I tried to jump for the bag, but someone tackled me onto the shoulder of the road as the truck’s horn blasted.
I looked up to see Clay’s face. He was more concerned with saving me than trying to reach the journal.
“I’m sorry, Anna,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks.
“No!” I screamed. “The journal!”
I locked eyes with Clay as his face embodied a pain I’ve never seen. His whole body tensed, and blood began to drip from his mouth. He staggered, gasping. When he fell, I tried to catch him, but I was too far away. He laid down, his arms and legs moving in jerky, unnatural motions. It was an image that would haunt me for the rest of my life. His body kept twisting and turning, until suddenly he vanished.
“Clay!” I reached for the spot I had last seen him, but he wasn’t there.
I scrambled to my feet to see what was left of my bag. It was torn to shreds, decimated by the eighteen-wheeler. I pulled out the journal and saw it had been almost completely torn in half. Pages were falling out and the cover had a deep black tread mark on it.
“Clay, buddy, where are you?” I couldn’t catch my breath; tears began rolling down my cheeks. “You can’t be gone, you can’t be. I can’t lose you.”
“Are you stupid? Who do you think you are? You think you can just jump into oncoming traffic?” Blake grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back to the parking lot. “What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”
Something inside me snapped. I looked up and planted my fist so hard in Blake’s face that blood spurted from his nose. He fell back to the ground, hard.
“My name,” I yelled, “is Annaka!” I glared down at him. “My name is Annaka Brooks!”
Everything came out all at once. For so long I had been afraid to embrace who I was meant to be. I had always hated that part of myself, and never really knew why. But I was finally starting to realize the importance of identity, and honouring the people who came before me. The ones who made sacrifices so I could grow. I had been ignorant to it for a long time, but it finally made sense. I was finally growing into my identity, and I wasn’t about to let anyone undermine it. As I stood over my father, I knew Clay had been right about Blake. I had been chasing hurt. Even though I was a seeker, I was seeking a past that never wanted me. But now I knew who I was, and I knew all the people I carried with me: Mom, Clay, Grampy, Nan, Tia, the Evanses, all of them. They mattered to me. Not some loser, bleeding on the side of the road. Not that thief.
Clay was nowhere to be seen. Blake was still on the ground, nursing his bloody nose in shock. His deck buddies were yelling incoherently and making their way across the parking lot to him.
“Clay? Clay, where are you?!” I couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not tonight.
I ran for my truck and heard Blake’s yelling: “What is wrong with you? What the hell was that thing?” He was still lying on the ground.
I put my keys in the ignition, put the truck in drive, and floored it
