Page 4 of No Place Left to Hide

“You don’t have to tell me.”

He slings an arm around my shoulder for a side hug. Felix is like the older brother I never wanted, but his hugs are comforting and he mostly has my best interests in mind. Jena could definitely have done worse than a cute, understanding jock with a B+ average.

He lets go and backs down the sidewalk. “I gotta get back before Dylan has my ass about leaving practice, but good luck today. You’re going to make Yale your bitch.”

I laugh and my phone rings in my pocket. I feel the smile decay on my face as fear jolts through my insides.

Not today. Please, not today.

When I pull it out and see Jena’s name flashed on the screen, the panic subsides. Okay, not who I thought it would be.

“Something wrong?”

I look up. Felix’s forehead is crinkled with concern, and I realize I let my face slip. I flash him a sarcastic smile and show him the screen. “It’s begun.”

His laugh echoes across the parking lot. “I warned you! Get out of here while you still can.”

He starts to turn away when I absolutely lose my fucking mind and ask, “Just out of curiosity,isDylan going to the party?”

“He is.” Felix’s smile is as wide as his face is smug. “We’re driving to the coast together as soon as the game is over. We’ll be a little late, but we’re definitely going. Why do you ask?”

I glare at him, and he throws his head back and laughs again.

“Ass.”

He winks and jogs off to the soccer field. As soon as I’m alone, I let my smile fall. My gaze catches on the recycling bin, and a shudder goes down my back. If I thought I was desperate to get out of here before, I’m even more desperate now. I slide into the driver’s seat and plug in my phone. Today isn’t aboutthat. Today is aboutme. Today is about my fresh start, and I’ll be damned if I let Brandon, or anyone else, ruin it for me with their guilt and hyperfocus on the past.

My phone pings with a voicemail from Jena, and I toss it into the cup holder as I back out of the parking spot. I’ll listen at home…if she doesn’t show up at my door before I have the chance.

God, I’m going to have to deadbolt the doors.

I pull out of the school lot and head for home, but I don’t make it two blocks before my phone rings again. This time the Bluetooth picks up, flashing the incoming call on the dashboard screen.

No Caller ID

My stomach drops so fast a burst of nausea crawls up my throat. I clench my hands around the steering wheel as the panic spreads through my entire body. I jab the decline button. They’ll call right back. Like they always do, like they have everysingleday for the last three months.

At the next stop sign, I slam on my brakes and scramble to put my phone back in airplane mode, but my hands shake so bad I drop it. It jerks out of the plug and lands on the floorboards on the passenger side. Out of reach.

Fuck.

I take a deep breath to calm down. I’m safe. It’s only a bunch of phone calls. No big deal. Nothing to panic about.

A car horn blares and I jump out of my skin. There are three other cars behind me. I swear and hustle through the intersection, my heart beating a mile a minute.

I don’t know who’s making the calls, what they want, or why the hell they chose me to harass, but I know I can’t make them stop. I’ve tried.

As quick as Felix is to call out Brandon Heck, I honestly don’t think he has the brain cells to keep upthislevel of harassment. Brandon’s more of a yell-at-a-memorial or start-a-fight-at-the-gym type of person. He’s not calculating, and whoever is doing this, whoever’s behind No Caller ID absolutely is.

They want me to carry the weight of what happened in September for every minute of the rest of my life—I mean, how dare I eventhinkabout having a life or moving on.

No Caller ID wants me to suffer, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

Or how much further they’re willing to take this.

My phone rings again from the floor.

Two

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