روفس

RUFUS

5:53 a.m.

I can’t front, Mateo is cool and neurotic and fine company, but it would’ve been really dope to have one last sit-down at Cannon’s with the Plutos, talking about all the good and bad things that have gone down. But it’s too risky. I know what’s good with me and I’m not risking getting them hurt.

They could hit me back with a text, though.

I unchain my bike and wheel it out onto the street. I toss the helmet to Mateo, who just barely catches it. “So Lidia is right off where again?” “Why are you giving me this?” Mateo asks.

“So you don’t crack your head open if you fall off the bike.” I sit on the bike. “It would suck if your Last Friend killed you.” “This isn’t a tandem bike,” he says.

“There are pegs,” I say. Tagoe would ride on the back pegs all the time, trusting me to not crash into any cars and send him flipping off.

“You want me to stand on the back of your bike while we ride in darkness?” Mateo asks.

“While wearing a helmet,” I say. Holy shit, I really thought he was ready to take chances.

“No. This bike is going to be the death of us.”

This day is really doing a number on him. “No it won’t. Trust me. I’ve ridden this bike every day for almost two years. Hop on, Mateo.” He’s mad hesitant, that’s obvious, but he forces the helmet onto his head. There’s extra pressure to be cautious because I’d hate for an “I told you so!” in the afterlife. Mateo holds on to my shoulders, pressing down on them as he gets on the pegs. He’s stepping his game up, I’m proud of him. It’s like pushing a bird out of its nest—maybe even shoving because it should’ve flown out years ago.

A grocery store down the block is opening its roll-up doors for business as the moon hangs high above this bank up ahead. I press down on a pedal when Mateo hops off.

“Nope. I’m walking. And I think you should too.” He unbuckles the helmet, takes it off his head, and hands it to me. “Sorry. I just have a bad feeling and I have to trust my gut.” I should throw on the helmet and ride away. Let Mateo go to Lidia, and I can do my thing, whatever that is. But instead of parting ways, I hang my helmet off the handlebars and swing my leg over the seat. “We should get walking then. I don’t know how much life we have left but I don’t want to miss it.”