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No tuition.
No class.
I can’t take classes until I settle my account. And if I don’t settle my account in time, I’ll be ineligible to complete the semester. There’s no way I’ll graduate in time if that happens.
With my shoulders hunched forward, I know where I have to go.
Home.
I have no doubt in my mind that Trent is a part of this somehow. That he’s chosen to come after me. How else would the silent calls come through and no one else’s? It sounds crazy just saying it, but there’s no other possibility.
Now that Trent’s chosen to come at me, I need to know what my options are. Will there even be anything left at the end of all this if he gets petty and steals the money? One thing’s for sure—he’s up to something.
I walk the three blocks to my house and find a tow truck in my driveway.
The car Ronnie gifted me is already halfway lifted on the back.
“What are you doing?” I scream from the street as I run toward where a man is stepping into the truck my car has been rigged to.
Shit.
“Stop!” I shout.
The door closes. The ignition turns. I’m now at the driver’s side, hitting the door.
“What are you doing?” I yell between pants. “Get my car off this thing.”
The window rolls down. “Sorry. No can do.”
“What do you mean no can do? What kind of answer is that?”
How can they take my car?
“Listen, little girl. No. Can. Do. I have one job. That job is to collect the cars at the address provided to me by my boss.”
“And then what? I don’t understand how you can take my car as if it’s yours.”
“I just take ’em.” He shrugs. “I don’t keep them for myself. I can’t tell you much, but I have to assume not paying your bill will do this.”
“But I did—”
“That’s what they all say.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be here if you did.”
Before I can say anything else, he shifts the truck in drive, and I step back.
Nothing can be done.
Another bill hasn’t been paid, and I have a sinking feeling I know why.
Rearranging my bag over my shoulder, I tentatively walk toward the door.
My heart hammers in my chest as I make my approach.
There is no way that, from where I am, I can read the writing on the paper. It isn’t clear, but I already know what it will say.
I don’t need to read it. I know I’m being evicted.
And the worst part?
