Prom

Streetlights

Amy felt the beginnings of panic deep in her stomach, cutting through her thirst and the pain from her scrapes. She locked her eyes on the phone, then looked up to Robert's face. He was smirking at the screen.

"Please," said Amy. "Please don't put that video online."

Robert grinned hugely, hit a button on his phone, and put it back in his pocket. "That was perfect," he said.

Amy's chest tightened and she started to feel queasy. This video could not get online. She would have to find blood somehow, soon. She saw a vision of the grainy footage playing as exhibit A at the county courtroom while she watched, wearing an orange jumpsuit and handcuffed to the table.

Not trusting her wrist, she got onto her knees and stood up from there. "I'm sorry, OK?" she said. "Let's just let this go. I'll leave you alone, just don't post the video."

Robert winked. "I'll take my chances. See you around, psycho girl."

"Wait!" said Amy, but Robert was already headed down the path, hands in his pockets, humming that stupid song.

Amy's hands were making fists and her nails were biting into her palms. Part of her wanted to attack him again, just to have an outlet for her rage. But she had to be realistic. There was no way another head-on attack would work. She could try running after him to talk him out of it, but what could she say? Even if she convinced him not to post the video that night, there was no way he'd delete it, and it would always be hanging over her head.

In the meantime, he could post that video any second. A jerk like Robert would probably send out the link to the whole class. People already thought she was weird, but a video of her attacking Robert like a wild animal would make her a total outcast. Assistant Principal Jenkins would probably find out, too. Last week, he'd suspended two tenth grade girls for a week when they got caught shoplifting a Forever 21.

But that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was this: what if it went viral? What if it made it into the news? What if it landed Amy in juvie? Any of those things would lead Sylvia straight to her.

Robert was almost out of sight along the path now. Not knowing what else to do, Amy followed him. She stayed as far behind as she could, always in the shadows, hoping against hope he wouldn't turn around. Every time he stepped up on a curb or made a turn, Amy froze up, convinced that this was the time that she would be discovered, that he would run, or call someone, that everything would be lost.

Finally he reached his house. Amy studied it from across the street. It was an expensive-looking home, oversized and the same inoffensive shade of yellow as every other house in the subdivision. Robert took a key from his pocket and opened the door. It was dark inside the house. Amy looked up at the windows and realized that all the other lights were off as well. The garage door was open too, and there were no cars inside.

Robert turned on the living room light and Amy could see his silhouette through the curtains. Amy watched him take off his jacket and move into another room. This, she realized, could be her only shot. If she wanted to stop that video from getting posted, she was going to have to go in there after him. But was she really ready for something like this? What if she got caught?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car coming down the street. She ducked down and watched it slow down as it rolled up to Robert's house. That was it. Her chance was blown. All she could do now was to hope the video didn't get around, that Sylvia somehow missed it. And, if not, she would just have to run away. She'd certainly thought about it before. It wouldn't be easy, but she had to keep her family safe.

Amy stood up and turned to go. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something. The car wasn't pulling into Robert's garage. It was going to the house next door. Her chance wasn't gone after all.

The dread lifted off Amy and was replaced by something more akin to excitement. The thirst was back now, and for a moment she thought of blood and she found the corners of her mouth curling up.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to walk across the street towards Robert's darkened garage.