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There are so many curse words I want to call him, but I don’t want him to know how much he’s affecting me, so instead I continue with the breathing techniques and say nothing.
When it’s clear he’s not going to get the reaction he wants, he pulls back. “You have until Sunday night,” he repeats, heading to the door. He kicks my backpack out of the way and says, “I’ll be in touch this weekend. If I don’t hear from you, it’s going live Monday morning before class starts, and your life is over.”
With a final disgusted sneer, he whips open the door and exits the classroom, leaving me standing there with my blood boiling in my veins, clenched fists, and a tension in my body that makes me feel like I’m practically vibrating.
Brandon wants me to find the phone? Fine, I’ll find the phone, but not to give it back to him.
He’s bluffing about sending out the photo. He said it himself; he won’t send it out because then he’ll have no leverage. And maybe in the meantime, before he gets pissed enough to do it, I’ll play the part. Maybe I’ll text him Sunday that I’m trying to find the phone, but I need more time. I might even have to swallow my pride and disgust and beg him to give me more time, stroke his ego enough to get him to agree. And all the while Iwillhave his phone; I’ll have it unlocked, and I’ll discover why he’s going to all this effort. By the time he realizes he’s been played and should’ve sent out his leverage, I’ll have already taken him down.
Oh, I’m finding the phone, Brandon, and I’m findingwhat you’re hiding.
Thirteen
Gia’s home from school before me, so I greet Zia Stella in the kitchen where she’s preparing dinner, then waste no time knocking on Gia’s bedroom door as a warning before waltzing in. She’s on her stomach on the bed with her feet kicking in the air behind her, scrolling on her phone with her oversized headphones on.
“Gia!” I call out, but my voice is drowned out by the thumping beats of the headphones that cover her ears. I lean closer and tap on them. She jerks back, eyes wide, and yanks them off.
“Dammit, Siena! You scared me!” she grumbles, tossing the headphones aside.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to get your attention.”
She presses a button on her phone, and the faint music droning from the headphones stops. “What’s up?
Why does your face look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . I don’t know.” She makes a circular gesture at my face with her hand. “That. Like you’re on the brink of having a complete meltdown.”
I don’t know what face I’m making to give that impression, but I try to school my features appropriately.
People keep telling me I’m making faces, but I don’t know what they’re seeing.
“I’m not on the brink of having a complete meltdown.” I just feel like everyone’s always telling me what to do, and I’m starting to crumble under the pressure a bit because everything keeps spinning out of my control, but I’m not having a complete meltdown.
She frowns, unconvinced. “Now that I think of it, you’ve looked like that for a while now. Are you okay?
Maybe you should go back to talking to Anusha.”
My stomach twists at the mention of Anusha’s name, and I shake my head. “Anusha was court-appointed until a few weeks after the move when I got settled in King City. I’m settled.”
She regards me skeptically but doesn’t push the issue.
“If you say so. What do you want?”
Right, the reason I came before she sidetracked me.
There’s no point beating around the bush, so I ask, “Did you take Brandon’s phone from my room?”
Her face blanches. “What?”
“Brandon’s phone. The one I stole from him at the motel party.”
She continues staring at me like I’m speaking gibberish, and I take an impatient breath.
“I thought it was stolen when my room was ransacked, but Brandon’s the one who did that, and he cornered me today demanding his phone, so he must not have found it when he broke in.”
“How can you be sure it was Brandon who broke in?” she asks, her expression guarded. “You said you didn’t see his face.”
