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Luke
Something buzzed in the silence. I bolted upright on the couch. I heard the sound again, rattling the kitchen table. I felt around. My phone was on the armrest, where I’d left it. Cassie must have left hers here before she went to Toby’s. The ringing stopped. I sat up and hobbled my way across the room and picked up the phone.
Five missed calls from “Mom.” At 2:16 a.m. This did not seem good.
The phone buzzed again in my hand.
I answered.
“Ma’am?”
She was breathing hard. “Mija?”
“Ma’am, this is Luke.”
“Oh. Is Cassie there?” Her voice was shaking. I sat up fully.
“She’s at...” Toby’s I finished silently. “She’s out tonight. Is everything okay?”
“Someone has come into my house. My window is broken.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “Have you called the police?”
“Twenty minutes ago. They’re not here yet. I’m outside and worried the person might still be in there.”
“Okay.” I paused, my head racing. She shouldn’t be alone. “What’s your address? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I moved faster down the stairs than I ever had, adrenaline overpowering the pain. Rita hadn’t said a word when I told her, just grabbed the keys from a hook near the door.
“Go,” she urged.
I used Cassie’s cell to call Toby’s phone on the way, panic cutting through what should have been an awkward conversation. Cassie’s sleepy voice immediately turned sharp as I spoke.
“I’ll be right there,” she said before the line went dead.
When I arrived at Cord Street fifteen minutes later, Cassie’s mom was crouching next to a Camry, her keys spiked between her fingers.
“Marisol?” She jumped when I said her name.
She held a finger to her lips and pointed to the bottom floor of a duplex not unlike Cassie’s, except this one was light yellow, surrounded by flowers, bushes, bird feeders. “Cassie’s checking it out,” she whispered.
“Oh, good, she got here?”
“Just now.”
“Cassie,” I called lightly.
She emerged from the side of the house, holding a baseball bat, squinted, and jogged over to me. “Oh, thank God.”
Without thinking, I opened my arms. Cassie moved into them, squeezing. I could feel her fingertips trace the middle of my back as her hands clenched. “Are you all right?”
“Yep,” she said, her breath on my shoulder. For a second, everything else faded.
Other than us, the street was lifeless. Kids’ bikes were scattered on the lawn of the apartment complex next to Marisol’s house. A streetlight flickered at the end of the block.
“I’ll go in,” I told her.
“I’ll come with you,” she offered. Cassie looked paler than usual beneath the streetlamps.
