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CHAPTER 27
Harper waited until she was certain her mother was gone, then strode down the hall to Dylan’s room. Now was the time to confront her idiot of a brother. God, what was he doing? She’d lied for him to Mom, covered his ass, but she was worried sick about what he was getting into.
Yesterday at school her worst fears had been confirmed. She’d been coming down the stairs from the theater department with her friend when she’d spied Dylan. And he hadn’t been alone. Julie had peeled off for her next class, but Harper had waited and watched from the landing, still a handful of steps above the area in front of the gym, as the two guys had cornered her brother.
Their body language was menacing. A big, hulking guy in gym shorts and a dark hoody scowled at Dylan, while a second skinnier guy in jeans and a fleece pullover screened him from the rest of the hallway. She didn’t know the kids—probably sophomores. Definitely not Schmidt or Parker.
But it didn’t look good.
God, please don’t make me have to run down there and save the little punk’s sorry butt.
Dylan dug a hand into his backpack. He pulled something out and another guy stood up, watching as Dylan handed something over, a small black sack. The kid looked into the bag, poking around a little, as if inspecting whatever was inside, then quickly slipped something to Dylan.
Cash.
Dylan looked at the bills, made a quick assessment, and nodded.
Drugs. Her brother was dealing drugs.
Shit! She’d seen more than one freshman or sophomore slide twenty-dollar bills into Dylan’s hand while they passed each other while changing classes. She had thought that he’d been loaning his friends money, but now she knew.
Stupid, stupid, stupid boy! There might be cameras taking all this in, recording him in the heat of the transaction. He was obviously in way over his head.
Dealing drugs on school property. What a moron! Everyone knew that would get you in big trouble. If he thought he could get away with something so dumb and blatant, he deserved to go to jail!
Except she couldn’t let him. The idiot didn’t have an iota of common sense. Brilliant and stupid, that was Dylan.
Someone had to save him from himself.
Turned out, she got the honors.
She pushed open Dylan’s door, with its stupid crime scene tape that discouraged no one, to find him propped on his bed, gaming controller in one hand, phone in front of him, a sack of Doritos open and spilling onto the bedding, a nearly finished plate of last night’s lasagna on the night table.
“Hey!” he said, his head snapping up. “Knock next time.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she said. “And it has to stop.”
“What I’m doing? I’m playing a game.”
“I’m not talking about that,” she said, motioning toward the controller.
He didn’t seem to get it.
“I’m sick of covering your sorry ass so that Mom doesn’t find out, but I’m not going to do it anymore. You have to get out of it right now.”
“Out of what?” But he blanched a little, confirming her worst suspicions.
“Oh, come off it. The drugs. I know you’ve been dealing.”
“What?” he said, shocked.
“Mom is going to kill you if she finds out,” Harper warned. “And Dad is going to kill you, and God, you know what? Maybe I’m going to kill you, too!”
“I’m not—”
“Stop it! Don’t lie. It’s over. I saw you yesterday,” she charged, stepping into the room, which reeked of cheese and tomato sauce and teenaged boy.
His mouth dropped open. “You saw what?”
