Belong With Me

The week that passes is both thankfully yet annoyingly uneventful. Dario's away on a weeklong trip for work, so there hasn't been any more talk about shipping me off like he suggested after my suspension. Maybe sending me to live with his cousin in New York was just a threat to keep me in line, or maybe he meant it, but I'm relieved he's not following up on separating me from my sister.

Zia Stella is staying over to "watch us," and she's much more chill and ten times nicer than he is, so the hours I'm home between work and school aren't the worst. I eat lunch with Nyah or sometimes outside when it's nice enough, joke in class with Warren, spend my spare time with Jason, even get an A on my English pop quiz, and it's almost weird how normal everything seems.

Gia's on track as well. This week she joined the debate team and signed up for volleyball tryouts, seemingly having cooled it with the parties and drinking after everything that happened at the motel and our talk about being in a good place here in King City. She seems happy, and it's for that reason I haven't told her about Brandon and his threats. I don't want to worry her unnecessarily, especially not when we're getting along and she's actually getting her act together. Besides, I'm handling it, like I handle everything else, which is why the week has been annoying: there's been no progress with unlocking Brandon's phone.

I've tried combinations of all the numbers important to Brandon like his birthday, jersey number, home address, even his cat's birthday, which I casually asked his younger sister, Brianna, about when she was over hanging out with Gia. I've become so desperate, Jason even got the cheerleader in charge of all the football player locker decorations for spirit day to tell him Brandon's locker combination, and I still had no luck. It is so frustrating. Every time Brandon's phone is in my hand, I just want to smash it on my desk over and over again, screaming obscenities until it shatters into a million pieces. But then the calming voice of reason in my head that sounds suspiciously like Jason reminds me that destroying the phone won't help us find what Brandon's done to Lily, and I practice Anusha's calming breathing techniques to quell the rage.

But other than that, everything's going so well it's almost too good to be true. This is everything I wanted when I came to King City: a stable house, a good relationship with my sister, a future in which college is actually possible, friends, and even the bonus of Jason, who's incredible in every way. But I can't help feeling like trouble is breathing down my neck, and I'm always wondering when the other shoe will drop.

I find out on Monday, exactly a week from Brandon's threat, as he promised.

Despite the fact that I share two classes and a lunch period with him, Brandon's easy enough to avoid. He's the biggest person in any crowd, so I always know where he is and run in the opposite direction. And in class, he's surrounded by friends, so I can easily slip out before he tries to talk to me. It helps that he doesn't try to talk to me, only glares like he's trying to make my head explode, but I can work with that.

But Monday morning after class is dismissed and I'm heading to the cafeteria for lunch, I let my guard down for just a second texting Nyah to arrange lunch plans, and I don't notice Brandon searching for me until it's too late. I practically faceplant into his hard chest.

"Time's up," he growls, corralling me to a less populated side of the hallway by some lockers. "You better have my phone in that backpack of yours."

I don't. It's safely tucked away and turned off in my desk drawer at home, hidden underneath some college scholarship pamphlets I picked up from the guidance office last week.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have your phone," I reply, keeping my voice calm and my heart rate as even as I can.

He's not buying it, though. "I know you do. It was 'stolen' when I was 'jumped' at the motel party." He uses his fingers to make air quotes and add extra emphasis around the words. "I know you or your bitch sister or your asshole boyfriend have it. I gave you a week, and your time is up. Give it to me."