𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 ( 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡 )

𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

eye for an eye

sneaking out was either going to go like a heist film or a horror film. i realized this as i spun around in my chair on a continuous loop, my fingers starting to hurt from the repeated crash of them on my desk as accelerators. i knew i had to hit the brakes sooner or later, though. it was nearing four o'clock and getting dizzy was counteractive for formulating a plan, so i jumped up and regained balance.

then, like in the movies, i paced the room back and forth in a straight line. the cliche method proved efficient. within minutes, i was certain that i would be telling mom and dad i need to apologize to aunt lauren. if my excuse for morally wrong actions involves something morally right, there was no chance they could deny me.

at four thirty, i ventured downstairs and fibbed that i was starving and desperately needed an early dinner. they bought it like it was ninety percent off. dad told me it was leftovers night, so i could help myself. i played my part and made my way into the kitchen, where day-old thai food was awaiting me. my stomach hadn't growled once since lunch at school, but i dug in, telling myself that the fuller i was, the less tempted i would be to snatch some cupcakes.

ten minutes later, the tupperware was empty and i found my parents again for more lies. "hey, so i've been feeling pretty guilty about the situation back at aunt lauren's, and jordyn said she's still mad at me, so i think it would benefit us both if i went over to apologize."

"sure," said dad. one simple word and i felt the weight of a million atmospheres evaporate.

since my plan was less of sneaking out and more straight out lying, i didn't have to construct a body-shaped mound of pillows in my bed. i could just walk out and say i got caught up doing chores with jordyn or something. i knew the guilt would actually end up costing me, but i was listening to mom. she told me to be young and stupid.

"see you later," i said at five to five, turning the door handle. to the naked eye, all i had on was a jacket and a guilty conscience. but in my pockets was three dozen cupcake liners, red and black to match the theme we chose for the posters.

as i made my way to the address that walker told me in the library that morning, i felt so dangerous possessing a celebrity's private information. i had his exact location of residence, his phone number, his trust. not many people got to have that. sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

the walk to walker's was very walkable. all this time i'd been living ten minutes away from this guy. his house looked like any other on the street, too. shingled roof, horizontal panels, and brown bricks to spice things up. oh, and some hedges! rocks of varying jagged shapes guided me to the door, which i knocked rapidly. i had no fear, only eagerness. walker said he'd be home alone.