Oh, crap.

Angry Al is red-faced and livid, and now he's got Boob-Lovin' Bob backed up to the bar.

"Did you sleep with that whore?" he yells.

"I swear to God, I didn't." Bob cries, slurring all his words. "I would never! Did she say somethin'? She's lyin'!"

"I see how you look at her! Stay the hell away from her!" Al throws the first punch, and all hell breaks loose. The fishermen are swarming, trying to break up the fight.

My heart's hammering through my ribcage as I look for my escape.

Al hauls Bob up by his collar and throws him toward me.

I jump back, slamming into the booth I was cleaning. Bob lands hard on the dirty table between us, and it skids across the floor.

Dishes fly, shattering. The fishermen are shouting so loud, I can't hear anything else. I'm frozen in place as the table Bob is on slides toward me and slams into my hip.

"Oof!" That's gonna leave a bruise. I squeeze my way out from between the table and the booth, but I'm still trapped.

Trapped by a mob of drunken fishermen, all screaming at Al as he slams his fist into Bob's face.

It's too hot, too humid. I can't breathe. The scent of rotten fish floods my nose, my lungs.

"Move!" I shout, but no one's budging.

I push against the closest men, panic clouding my vision, sweat streaming down my back.

"Move!"

Two of the guys press closer, crushing me into a third.

Time suddenly stops moving.

Every single hair on my arms rises, as if static electricity has swept through the room.

I break out in head-to-toe goosebumps.

I blink, looking around, the scene before me frozen. I try to move, but I can hardly lift my arm or turn my head. I'm stuck. Nearly paralyzed.

Bile crawls up my throat as I will my arm to move. My leg. Anything.

It's like a scene from a movie or maybe a bad dream.

This can't be happening.

It isn't real.

Wake up, Lyric!

I'd pinch myself, but I still can't move.

Angry Al steps in front of me in slow motion, his fist rising in the air. Bob's laid out on the dirty table, looking up at Al in horror. Al's fist is falling, falling, falling.

Finally, it slams into Bob's face.

Blood flies into the air. Freezes in mid-motion.

I manage to twist to the side, shove against the fishermen there. But we're still hardly moving.

A song plays somewhere... magnetic, catchy. Have I heard it somewhere before? Our jukebox is dead. It's somebody's ring tone.

Panic crawls up my throat. My chest feels like it's caving in, and I can't breathe. What is happening? Why can't I move?

A heavy weight lands on my shoulders, and they fall. Someone has grabbed hold of me, and they're pulling me.

I'm moving fast, faster than anything in the room, hurtling backward.

The fishermen around me fall to the side, knocked over. The rest part like the sea, crashing into tables and chairs. The room explodes with noise as the chairs skid across the floor, tumbling to the ground.

And I'm free.

Time speeds up.

The fishermen are yelling. The fight is infecting them all, and they're starting to hit each other.

I just blink. And blink. I'm all the way against the wall by the bathrooms, staring at the frenzied activity at the center of the room.

I don't know how long I stand there blinking, but I can't seem to get a grip.

What in the hell just happened?

I glance around for my savior, whoever pulled me outta there.

It was Mateo. He's closest to me.

He's a few feet away, behind the counter, and he's on the phone. He catches my eye and gives me a quick thumbs up.

That means the cops are on their way.

This isn't the first brawl these guys have started. It's not even the first this month. But it's the first time I've panicked so bad my brain paralyzed me like that.

I'm in a total daze as I stagger toward the front door and push through it to wait for the police. The station's right down the road, so they should be here soon.

I shiver in the cold, wrapping my arms across my chest.

My meds must be fading already, 'cause my brain fog is back, and it's bad.

The door creaks open beside me, and rowdy sounds drift out before it slams shut again.

I turn to see who it is.

Amanda.

I blink at her for a second, and she touches my arm.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" She bats her crazy-long lashes at me, and her dark blue eyes are wide with concern.

I could almost believe she cares.

I pull away. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine..."

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks. "I saw you get all caught up in that. Did they hurt you?"

I narrow my eyes at her, trying to figure out what she's playing at. "I'm fine. Thanks. Don't worry. Cops'll be here in a minute."

I pointedly turn away from her, wishing they'd hurry up.

Amanda stays outside with me. I don't blame her for not wanting to go back in there yet, but does she have to stand so close? I glance over at her. I'm 5'5", and I'd be surprised if she's over five feet. She's got little bird bones, skinny arms, and thin legs encased in impossibly tight jeans. She's also got an ample chest that's threatening to spill out of her tight blue shirt. Her corkscrew blond curls are perfect, not a hair out of place.

My hair goes curly if I let it air dry, but it's a wild kinda curl that I can hardly control, so I wear it up perpetually. And my lashes... I don't know what she's doing, but she's winning the lash and brow game.

I can see why Jason picked her... and not me.

A little ripple of jealously surges through me, and I tamp it down.

Amanda clears her throat and inches even closer.

I resist the urge to edge away.

"Hey... look," she says. "I'm sorry. About Shannon."

I go still, too shocked to respond.

She's looking up at me with that same genuine expression from before. But no friend of Shannon's can be trusted.

"I know..." she continues. "You probably don't understand how I'm friends with her. She can be... tough. I don't like how she talks to you. It's not right. I really am sorry."

"Uh." I swallow, trying to find some words, but I wasn't ready for this. "Uh... Thanks."

I take a step away, and then we stand there awkwardly some more. It seems like an eternity, but it's probably only ten seconds.

The cops need to freakin' hurry up. Those fishermen are gonna destroy the restaurant if they don't, and I'm not wading back into that fray to try and stop them.

Amanda clears her throat again. "So. Jason actually asked me to come talk to you. You know, he always wanted to talk to you at school. But he never did."

My heart jumps into my throat, and I can't keep the disbelief off my face.

"Really!" She cracks a smile. "He's always had a crush on you."

This is a lame trick. Something Shannon put her up to. "Aren't you two...?"

"Me and Jason?" She lets out a loud laugh. "No freaking way!"

"Oh... I thought..." My palms are so sweaty, I have to covertly wipe them on my jeans.

She gives me a grin and leans closer. "I see the appeal—I do—but no way. He's my bud."

I nod and inch away from her again.

She doesn't seem to notice. "He said you were super shy all the time. He told me he'd lend you pencils in Algebra class, but you never seemed to want to talk to him. I told him you've always been really quiet, like since grade school, and that it didn't necessarily mean you weren't interested in him."

My cheeks are blazing, giving it all away. How could she know about the pencils? Shannon and Amanda weren't in that class with us. Unless... he did say something...

"So..." she says. "Was there any interest there?"

"Um... he did lend me pencils," I say stupidly.

A cop car quietly pulls away from the station down the road, its lights flashing.

"Okay, here's the deal." Amanda steps closer, again, right in my face so I have to make eye contact. "Jason has to leave tomorrow, but he wants to have a chance to actually talk to you. He really wants you to come out and chill with us tonight. But he felt weird just randomly asking you, so I told him I would. So... will you meet up with us?"

My stomach has joined the circus—it's doing acrobatics now. I search her face, looking for any hint that she's trying to trick me. This has to be a trick, doesn't it? I'd be a moron if I fell for it. But there's no smirk on her face, no evil glint in her eyes like Shannon always has.

"Will you hang out?" she repeats, smiling again with what seems to be genuine friendliness.

I avert my eyes and let out a breath. "I have to close the restaurant. Sorry."

"That's okay! We're camping down at the beach tonight... We'll be up real late—trust me. So, will you come? We'll have a bonfire and everything, in front of the Rock. It's an all-night party. You gotta come. Jason will be so disappointed if you don't."

A bonfire on the beach. At night.

My mom's superstitions, endlessly repeated, come back to me. Her voice is clear in my mind, loud and adamant.

"Never go down to that beach at night. Ya hear me? Never! It is not safe, no matter what the stupid kids around here think."

Amanda lightly touches my arm. "C'mon," she says, nudging me like we're actual friends. "Just tell me you'll be there."

I shake my head slightly. If you told me an hour ago that my high school bully's best friend would be inviting me to a party because my high school secret crush secretly likes me back... I would have died laughing. It's ridiculous.

"I..."

"Well... think about it, okay? We'll be there, right in front of the Rock. Jason will be so, so bummed if you don't come out."

"Yeah... I don't know."

Her smile grows wider. "Hey... why do you think we even came here tonight?"

I raise a brow at her, and she nods her head encouragingly.

"Yep," she says. "Jason specifically wanted to come here. To see you. He's been wondering what happened to you, and someone told him you worked here now. So just come down to the beach... for him. I promise I'll keep Shannon busy. I won't let her bug you again."

I shrug, and thankfully, the cops roll up.

One of them jumps out of the patrol car. "What's goin' on in there?"

I give him the run-down and step away from the door. In no time flat, he and his partner are dragging the fishermen out onto the street.

Boob-Lovin' Bob and Angry Al have both been placed in handcuffs. Bob's face is so swollen, he's hardly recognizable. Honestly, the new look is kind of an improvement.

The rest of the drunk fishermen are milling around and exchanging words with the cops, who are yelling at them to all go home.

Amanda disappears inside, and a minute later, she's exiting with Jason, Dan, and Shannon. The three of them look super-annoyed, but none of them, not even Jason, give me a second glance.

Amanda hangs back as her friends hurry down the sidewalk, away from all the cop drama.

"Here." She shoves cash and their check into my hand and gives me an excited wink. "See ya soon!"

My heart's going a million miles a minute as she walks away.

Jason's already disappearing ahead, crossing the street with his friends.

It's not possible that he likes me... Is it?

I can picture me and him talking, our faces close, in front of a bonfire...

Date nights to the movies one town over, where they actually have a theater.

Me visiting him at college. Cheering him on from the stands.

Holidays back home.

Cozying up in front of the fireplace.

His lips... meeting mine.

Oh my God!

I gotta stop Walter Mittying.

We had to read a story in high school about a guy named Walter Mitty who sat around fantasizing all day. He wasted his time dreaming up situations that never happened to him and never could. That's me right now, playing pretend again.

Like. Usual.

Grow up, Lyric. Amanda's a liar.

Jason didn't even look my way.

This has to be a trick, something Shannon put Amanda up to.

And I refuse to fall for it.