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“You won't seek revenge by posting all the pictures on Instagram?”
“No. On the contrary, I will delete a few photos, and you can come and see for yourself, just so you know I'm not trying to deceive you.”
Carefully, I approach his chair, positioned behind the desk, and observe as he selects ten pictures and discards them into the trash, promptly emptying it afterward.
“It’s too easy. There must be a catch...”
“There's no catch. Your honesty was met with my appreciation. I value sincerity.”
Indeed, he is a Sagittarius. The most enigmatic sign when it comes to duplicity. He despises being deceived and reveres truthfulness, yet resorts to lies when it serves his own interests.
“You rewarded me?”
“That's how it's going to be from now on. Whenever you do something for me, I'll delete a few photos, as a gesture of equivalent effort. You can come to me after school every time to witness it firsthand if you don't trust me.”
“Of course, I'll come,” I say firmly.
He laughs satisfied, and moistens his lips.
“Then, if you trust me, I will trust you,” he says, taking the USB stick out of the laptop and placing it beside me on the desk, right in front of me. “If you agree, we have a deal” Masse raises his hand and I glance at him, my eyes filled with suspicion.
He's definitely up to something, but I don't really have a choice in the matter.
“Can I think about it some more?” I stand and approached the desk, but kept my distance from his outstretched hand.
“Sure, but my patience also has its limits.” he retracts his hand and wrinkles his nose. “I get pretty irritated and hungry when I have to be patient, and right now, I'm starving. So I'm going to grab something to eat,” he gets up from the desk, his hands finding their way into his pockets, as he heads towards the door.
The USB stick is right there, so close, with nothing between us. I could just take it and make a run for it, but he would probably catch me before I even reach that damn door.
But what if I didn't use the door this time? Could I stand a chance?
This is another test. He's testing my limits, and I shake my head and take a deep breath. But hope, against all odds, refuses to leave.
Could I take it and escape through the window?
It's on an upper floor, but if I climb the flower trellis, the same one we used when we were younger, I might just make it down without breaking a bone.
I rub my face and sketch a plan in my mind. The temptation is strong, amplified by the irritating melody of Lit Shordie Scott's “Rocking A Cardigan in Atlanta,” which only adds to the weight on my shoulders, pushing me towards a reckless decision.
I seize the USB stick and stride toward the slightly ajar window. I push it open, feeling a cool breeze on my face as I swing one leg over the sill.
“Becca, no!” I hear the panicked cry from behind, but I am already darting onto the roof with such haste that I nearly lose my footing on the slick surface beneath the cloak of night.
The tiles are damp, and the sky sprinkles a fine drizzle.
I cautiously make my way toward the edge of the rooftop, where the ladder awaits. Footsteps echo behind me, stirring the pit of unease in my stomach.
Manasseh trails close behind, a phantom presence I sense without needing to look over my shoulder.
“Stop, Becca! It's dangerous out there!” he shouts as my foot searches for the ladder in the darkness.
I feel something solid and don't hesitate to immediately put my weight on what feels like the first step of the ladder, but before I can descend, I feel a sharp tug on the hood of my sweatshirt, holding me back.
“Let me go, Masse!” I struggle on the makeshift ladder.
“Becca, it's dangerous out there! Please, climb back up!” He tugs at my hood, but I struggle to hold on, as the roof protrudes more than the ladder.
“Never!” I grip the zipper and attempt to shed my hoodie, desperate to break free.
