Page 19 of Callow

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah.”

With that, I started to make a pot as she sat down at the table.

“Are you going to call my mom?”

“Don’t exactly have a choice,” I said as I grabbed two mugs.

“We… could… not call her.”

Turning, my brow shot up. “What?”

“I don’t want her to know I cut class. You don’t want her to know I got shot at…”

“You got shotaround,” I corrected. “Because you cut class and put yourself in danger.”

As much as I would love to not have to tell the already stressed to the max mom of this troublesome teenager that her kid followed me again and could have been shot or killed because of it, I couldn’t let her manipulate me into silence.

“She could call the cops on you,” Daphne said. “Icould call the cops on you.”

“Kid, don’t fucking threaten me,” I said, shaking my head at her. “You’re about as intimidating as a gnat,” I said as Brooks moved into the kitchen, holding out my phone to me. “Thanks.”

“Need anything?” he asked, glancing at my arm. The wound was still bleeding halfheartedly, a little trickle that slid down my wrist and off of my hand.

“Not right now,” I said, sucking in a steadying breath as I swiped to my contacts.

I hesitated, not wanting to do this part, but knowing I had to.

“She’s at work,” Daphne said as the phone rang and rang. “She can’t answer.”

“Sabrina, this is Callow. Can you call me back at this number as soon as possible? It’s… important,” I said, looking at Daphne as she traced something on the surface of the table with her fingertip.

I heard the shuffle outside and glanced out to see the medics from Hailstorm had arrived.

Worst case, they’d take Perish up to Hailstorm where they had their own hospital ward equipped with just about anything that they could need to treat him.

My experience said he wasn’t going to need that, though. I’d seen more than a few gunshot wounds. He was likely going to be up and worrying about the fucking lawn in a day or two.

My phone started to vibrate in my hand, making me almost drop it before I brought it up, seeing Sabrina’s name, and swiping to answer.

“Is she there again?” she asked, whispering into the phone.

“Y…yes.”

“Why are you pausing? Is she okay? What’s going on?”

“She’s okay. But you need to come and pick her up.”

“I…”

“Fake being sick. We… need to talk.”

“Okay. Alright. Give me… twenty.”

“Don’t speed. She’s airtight. It’s just… complicated.”

“Okay,” she agreed, hanging up.

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