Revenge

Chapter Three The call

As I pulled away from the house, the Mustang’s engine hummed under me, smooth and confident, but my nerves were not matching it. My mind kept replaying the brown car, the camera, the way it sped off like it had been caught doing something it shouldn’t.

I needed someone who was not part of chaos. Someone who did not make everything feel heavier.

Rose.

“Hey Siri, call Rose on speaker.”

“Calling Rose on speaker,” the phone replied, and the ringing echoed through the open air.

She answered instantly. “Hello, Bestie!” Rose chirped, her voice bright enough to cut through the tension in my chest.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound normal.

“What are you doing right now?” I asked.

“Waiting for Owen to get here so we can walk to the bus stop together.”

“When he gets there… you both stay there.”

Silence. A long, heavy silence.

“Why?” she asked, her voice tightening.

“Just do it. Please.”

Another pause. Longer. “Okay…” she said, but I heard the hesitation. Rose never hesitated with me. Ever.

Beep beep.

“What was that?” she asked. “Are you driving? Did you get a car?”

“I’ll show you when I’m there.”

Knock knock.

“Oh—Owen’s finally here,” she said. “Okay, I’ll see you in five minutes.”

“Okay.” She hung up.

I turned the corner toward her street, my pulse thudding in my ears. The neighborhood looked normal — too normal. Kids on bikes. Sprinklers hissing. A dog barking somewhere. But the normalcy felt staged, like a movie set with something dangerous lurking just off‑camera.

“Siri, text Owen and Rose.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Come out now.”

“Sending ‘come outside now.’”

I pulled into Rose’s driveway. Before I even shut off the engine, I heard them.

“OH MY GOD!” Rose screamed. “NO WAY — SHE GOT HER DREAM CAR!”

They ran out, eyes wide, hands over their mouths like they were witnessing a miracle.

“Yes,” I said, stepping out. “From my dad and brother.”

“I bet that pissed your mom off,” Owen said, smirking.

“Oh yeah, she was furious,” I said. “But I yelled… and they stopped.”

Rose froze. “Wait. You yelled? You never yell.”

“I know,” I said. “But I did this morning. And it felt… great.”

They stared at me like I had grown wings.

“You two ready to go to school?” I asked.

“No!” they both screamed. They were juniors — next year would be their turn.

“I’m sorry, guys,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Rose said. “Let’s go.”

We climbed into the car. I put the hood down. The warm Idaho air rushed in, carrying the smell of cut grass and summer heat. It was always warm here. It hardly ever rained.

But something in the air felt wrong today. Heavy. Watching.

As I got back out of the driveway, I caught a flicker of movement in the side mirror — a dark shape slipping behind a parked truck. Too fast to see clearly. Too slow to be accidental.

My stomach tightened.

We pulled into the school parking lot, and heads turned instantly. People pointed. Whispered. Stared. My car gleamed like a neon sign in the sun.

I parked, put the hood up — just in case — and stepped out. Rose and Owen followed. The bell rang just as our feet hit the pavement.

“I’ll see you later,” I said as they headed toward their hallway.

I turned toward the cafeteria, where all the seniors were gathering.

But before I walked inside, I glanced back at the parking lot.

A brown car sat across the street.

Not the same one. But it is close enough.

This one did not have a camera.

It had tinted windows.

Dark. Reflective. It is impossible to see through.

Watching. Waiting.

My heart thudded painfully.

Something was wrong. Something was following me. And graduation day was only getting started.