Page 81 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

It only takes a moment.

“Send me the address. We’re on our way,” Theo declares like it’s a no-brainer.

“On it.” Lacey immediately texts him where to meet us.

“We’re seventeen minutes away,” Theo says once the address comes through.

“Seven minutes for us,” Lacey replies.

“Okay, we’ll see you there,” Chance adds.

Seven minutes.

The longest seven minutes of my life.

Lacey

They’re not here.

The first thing we did when we arrived was comb through every inch of the park. Nada. There’s no sign of the girls or Sierra’s creepy online boyfriend.

Are we too late?

No, we can’t be. The text message he sent her said to meet him at nine. It’s eight fifty-seven. Unless they met up early?

TJ gestures to the run-down bungalow where the party’s being held across the street. “Let’s search the house. Just in case they’re inside.”

My stomach twists into a tight knot as we approach the house that’s overflowing with drunk teenagers. The roof is sagging abit, and some of the window shutters are broken, hanging from their hinges.

I thought TJ’s neighborhood was bad, but this one? Not only does it look dirt-poor, but we must’ve seen at least four tent cities on our way over.

The music vibrating through the walls is near deafening, but something tells me noise complaints are the least of the police’s problems in this area.

“The guys will be here in ten,” TJ assures me as he leads the way inside.

It’s worse than I thought it would be. People are crammed into every corner of the room, dancing—no, sorry,grindingagainst each other furiously. And the smell…

Not sure I’ve ever smelled anything this disgusting in my life.

A mixture of sweat, vomit, and weed is the best way I can describe it.

TJ’s hand clasps around my wrist two steps inside the house, and he begins elbowing his way through the crowd of wasted kids and the thick cloud of smoke clogging our throats.

“Kelsea?” TJ shouts over the music, never letting go of my wrist as he tears through the house’s main areas.

“Sierra?” I join in, yelling my sister’s name to the point of straining my vocal cords, but eventhat’snot loud enough to cut through the bass.

Heads start to turn, unfamiliar faces flashing before our eyes, and we double our efforts, continuing to call our sisters’ names as we push toward the living room.

“What the fuck?” TJ’s grip on my wrist tightens when we turn the corner, and he stops dead.

There, on a dirty brown couch I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, is Kelsea, making out with some guy who’s covered in tattoos and at least a decade older than her.

On second thought, I’m not sure I would call what they’re doingmaking out.It’s more like they’re trying to eat each other’s faces off.

“Oh, fuckno,” I hear TJ say, but I barely have a chance to take in the scene before he’s grabbing the guy’s collar from behind and ripping him off his sister with so much strength the guy goes flying, landing on his ass a few feet away from the couch. Kelsea shrieks in shock, her jaw dropping once she sees her big brother towering over her.

“TJ? What are you… How did youfindme?” is all she can say, but we don’t have time to discuss the why and how.

---