The request pinged on my phone: *Send me your location.* It came again moments later, insistent and sharp.
The rhythm of the school days settled into a pattern. I found myself completing Billie’s math assignments alongside my own. The motivation wasn’t altruism; Billie was, frankly, terrifying. It started with a grudging arrangement, but it blossomed into a quiet, efficient exchange. I'd completed the math homework, and she'd ensure my safe passage.
Lunch had become a welcome reprieve. I sat with Rachel, my closest friend, and the small circle of girls I'd begun to gravitate toward. Rachel, a soccer player herself, had encouraged me to join the after-school practices. It was a slow burn of encouragement, a nudge toward a team I had never dared to join. Rachel’s friends—Luke, Danielle, and Taylor—had, in turn, become my own.
I settled at our usual table, the scent of chicken salad filling my nose. Rachel was mid-story, her voice animated.
“I looked everywhere for him, and finally found him tucked away in Mr. Henderson’s garage. He hadn't gone far at all. I was just so relieved he was safe,” she finished, a wave of agreement rippling through our small group.
Luke’s gaze fixed on my back, his eyes narrowed.
“Incoming,” he muttered, a warning.
Before I could react, a sharp tug yanked at my hair. The force sent a jolt of panic through me.
“Didn't I tell you to do my fucking math homework?” The voice was laced with fury.
I whipped around, meeting the glare of a girl with shockingly blue hair. Her eyes were cold, her posture rigid.
“You weren’t in class today,” I managed, my voice trembling.
“So turn it in with my name on it, dumbass.”
An idea sparked. A desperate gamble.
“How about I help you learn how to do it? You’ll do better on tests too. I can teach you.”
She considered it, her expression unreadable. A flicker of something—not quite trust, but perhaps calculation—crossed her face.
“Meet me around the back of the school today.”
I nodded, turning back to my sandwich. The table felt too small, too exposed.
“Bro, she is fucking scary,” Danielle whispered, her voice laced with concern.
“I can’t believe you’re going to spend time alone with that crazy bitch,” Rachel said, grabbing my hand. Her grip was tight, her knuckles white. “Be careful. Send me your location, okay?”
I agreed, the words catching in my throat. The weight of the phone in my pocket felt heavy. I sent her my location.