"Who was that Amelia?" My father asks or more like yells looking at me angrily.
What do I do? Do I lie? Do I tell the truth?
"It was a friend," I shift nervously knowing my dad wouldn't buy it.
"A friend my a*s!" He screams scaring me. He's never yelled at me like this. He's never even yelled at me at all. "Don't lie to me who was it?"
I stand quietly seeing as not talking at all right now has to be my best option. I took Political Science last year; I knew the drill. I didn't have to incriminate myself. It's not like he knew it was Wesley. All he knew was that someone was here. Which was just as bad since no one was home and he took off like a track star, automatically making him guilty of something making me guilty by association. But apparently, I didn't have to be the one to tell h
