𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

*— NARRATIVE

WE ran out of gas in Iowa. The glowing symbol had flashed vividly on the dark screen for almost 10 minutes, signaling we should pull over and refill the tank. The Jeep barely made it to Iowa City, before the engine started making a horrible sputtering sound and died on the side of a peaceful neighborhood street.

Gracie smacked the steering wheel with an annoyed groan before glancing at Olivia, who was riding in the passenger seat.

"I told you we should have gotten gas," the brunette stated, sighing as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"I swear Iowa wasn't supposed to be far enough to drain the tank," Gracie replied, opening the door and hopping out. I slid out of the back of the vehicle to see the two girls looking around. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Sunset Street, Bryn Mawr Heights," Olivia stated, looking at the map on her phone. "We're close to the University of Iowa, it's a 38 minute walk and a 6 minute drive."

"We can't drive, Liv, we ran out of gas!" Gracie exclaimed, leaning against the side of the car. "Do you think they have gas at the college?"

"There's a gas station in the other direction," Liv told us, pointing down the street. "It's an 8 minute walk."

"Why did we not get gas earlier?" I asked, sliding my sunglasses over my eyes. "The car had sounded like a choking seagull for the last 10 minutes."

Gracie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let's just get the gas and fill the tank manually," she recommended, moving towards the sidewalk and beginning to walk. "Unless you guys want to push the car there."

—

We all stared blankly at the large red cans sitting at our feet, which had been filled with gas, then back to the black Jeep.

"Does anyone know how to do this?" I inquired, running a hand through my hair nervously. "Cus I don't."

I received murmurs of agreement as we shared a look of confusion.

"It can't be that hard, right?" Liv finally spoke up, picking up the can of gas. "Just pour it in like at the gas station."

I popped open the little hatch on the side of the car before grabbing the gas from the singer. Counting silently in my head, I slowly tipped the small nozzle attached to the top to direct the flammable liquid that dripped into the car. I held the carton at a high angle, letting the gas fill the tank at a constant speed until it was nearly empty.

My arms ached from holding the rather heavy can for so long, and I dropped it heavily on the ground. I had long stripped off my dark bomber jacket to leave my body in just the white tank top and shorts.

"Do you think that's enough to get us to the gas station?" I asked, turning to my friends, who were perched on the side of the sidewalk.

"It should be. God job, Frankie," Gracie chirped, skipping to unlock the door and shove the key into the ignition. The vehicle made a long, broken noise before going silent. With each turn of the key, the Jeep made that same sound till Gracie stepped back, a frown on her face.

Olivia groaned, brushing herself off and getting up. "What now?"

"The engine is probably blown," the brunette stated, kicking the side of the car lightly as though it could magically work perfectly with a light touch.

"We should've gotten snacks at the gas station while we were there," I mumbled, checking the time on my dying phone to see it was close to dinner.

"We should've just called for help at the beginning." Olivia threw up her arms. "Who knows how long it'll take for someone to pick us up."

"Do you have any snacks, Gracie? Or something edible?" I asked, feeling my stomach clench painfully at the lack of food I had today. "Anything?"

"Not now, Frankie. What are we going to do?"

"I can call my boyfriend, but I don't know if he'll pick up," Olivia offered sheepishly, raising her phone for us to see. "He should be helping to coach the basketball team right now."

"Malcolm finally came 'round to ask you to be his girlfriend?" Gracie jumped up, beaming at our friend. "Seriously?"

"Couple of weeks ago. I didn't know if he was being serious, so I didn't tell you guys," the girl admitted shyly. "Anyways, I'm going to call him."

"Food, I just want food," I muttered, sitting down on the side of the road.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation, Olivia finally hung up and looked over with a relieved smile. "He says he can't leave at the moment but that if we walk over to the university, he'll give us a ride and help sort everything out."

"Ok, that's better than nothing." Gracie got up, dragging me with her. "It's going to get dark soon, so we should get going."

"Will there be food there?" I asked, but received no reply.

—

The gym was massive, with wooden walls, carpeted floors, and large glass windows. Olivia pushed open the double doors to the building, guiding us down a long hallway. I began to faintly hear the sound of basketballs against the solid floor and sneakers squeaking with shrill screeches.

We walked through a door to open up into the tall room, in which a basketball court and stands were set up. Girls ran back and forth in various colored jerseys, the familiar dark orange ball bouncing rapidly between hands before being tossed up, hitting the glass backboard, and falling into the rope net and into the hands of someone else.

Two figures stood on the sidelines, shouting things to the players as they walked down the court, following where the ball was. The lowest wooden bench of the stand was littered with bags, basketballs, water bottles, and random papers that, with closer inspection, turned out to be school assignments.

"Hey, you guys made it," Malcolm called, jogging towards us. I felt the curious eyes of the majority of people in the room on us as the man approached us with a smile. "I thought you got kidnapped."

"You don't seem to be too concerned," I grumbled, though it was the pent up frustration and lack of food talking more than me.

"Sorry, Frankie's in a bitchy mood because she's hungry," Gracie quickly stated, offering a friendly smile to the familiar man. I faintly remember meeting him at one of Liv's parties, they seemed pretty close, but not much more.

"It's been 7 hours. I haven't eaten anything since lunch, and it was a dry PB & J with barely any peanut butter," I explained, keeping my arms close to my chest. "But I'm sorry for being a bitch. Thanks for the help, Malcolm."

"Of course, Frankie. There's not much I wouldn't do for my girlfriend and her best friends." The couple shared a look before the man gave us a sheepish smile. "You guys can just sit around, practice should be over in about half an hour."

"Thanks, babe," Olivia says as she guides us to the edge of the stands, where we sit down after the long, cold walk.

"He's cute, Liv!" Gracie exclaimed quietly, looking back at the man. "He's so sweet."

"Mac is a godsend, I swear " Liv gushed, while I slowly began to crumble, mentally and physically. I don't do well without food, and I was beginning to feel lightheaded.

I began to pull away from the present moment, leaning back to rest my head on the smooth wooden bench and staring up at the ceiling of the gym. The bright lights shined directly onto my face, and I was sure I looked stupid as the faint voices of my friends echoed from one ear and out the other, no words processing enough to pull me from my mind.

My thoughts drifted from the pressure and stress of making my new album, and I remembered the dozens of drafts stored in my notebooks that were lost in the fire. Sparks turned into a harsh blaze in France, where I had visited last summer, and burned down my family home as well as both of our neighbors. Investigators had found a forgotten lit candle in one of the other family's houses to be held accountable for the fire, but I didn't care who was to blame for the mess.

The papers had been burned to ashes, unintelligible, and lost to a faint memory that I could not grasp. I left France a week later, with my brother Augustin offering to clear up the mess, and swiftly embarked on the long road trip from Los Angeles to New York with Gracie and Olivia as a way to clear my head and find inspiration.

Instead, we were now stranded in a sweaty gym at the University of Iowa with the college's basketball team and two coaches.

A harsh smack from just next to my head and the impact of something solid jerked me from my mind, and I was silently drowning myself in worries, stresses, and anxiety. I pushed myself back up to see a pack of two granola bars wrapped in a dark green plastic wrapper sitting peacefully on the wood. Picking it up, I examined it before looking around for the person who threw it.

My eyes landed on a taller woman in the heart of a group of women who had taken to resting on the benches with their water bottles, listening to what the coaches were saying. The one with dark brown eyes and even darker hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She flicked her gaze up from something, meeting my stare, and smiled, a brilliant, gentle grin that I had never seen before. It was like a silent understanding passed through us from across the length of the bench.

I pointed at myself, then held this up, making a quiet inquiry to ask if this was for me. The stranger rolled her eyes with a bright smile, nodding. I hoped my eyes conveyed just how grateful I was for her actions, to the point where I would seriously consider marrying her, and mouthed a 'thank you'.

We both turned back to our respective groups at the same time, I ripped open the bar and took a hungry bite, immediately tasting the sweet granola.

"Hey, where'd you get that?" Gracie asked, watching me eat it with new interest.

"Someone gave it to me," I mumbled between bites, pointing vaguely to the group. "Tall, brown hair, pretty."

"That's descriptive," Gracie teased as Liv asked, "Caitlin?"

I shrugged, following their eyes to the same woman, though she wasn't looking at us. "Is that her name?"

"Yeah, Mac was talking about her. Apparently she's really good," Olivia stated, nodding. "Nice of her to give you food."

I had hummed quietly, my eyes still burning into Caitlin's skin, metaphorically. A small part of my mind was telling me to look away. It was weird that I had been staring at her for so long. Yet the other part won easily, wanting to find every small detail in her face, her eyes. I would take to my sketchbook when we got to Malcolm's house, which we would be staying at for a couple of days — the one I hid from even my friends.

I would draw, purposefully scratching messy lines so it was not too recognizable, but when I put it down in front of me, all I saw was her. In the corner, I would draw a jagged, dark 22.