He takes my phone out of my hand and punches some buttons on the screen as I try to figure out what the hell’s going on. There’s something of his in there? Something he wants back? Trey and his entire family are at the baseball game, so no one’s home.
Are we breaking in?
“Masen, I’m not breaking into his house.”
“You don’t have to.” He hands my phone back to me. “I programmed in my number. I think it’s about time you had it anyway. Call me if anyone comes home or you see anything weird.”
What?
I stare at him, appalled, but he just climbs out of the truck and jogs for the house.
Excuse me?
I push open the door, jump out, and slam it behind me, chasing after him. “I can’t believe you!” I whisper-yell, catching up to him in the middle of Trey’s lawn. “You won’t tell me anything, and now you’re breaking and entering, and you’re involving me? I could get into trouble, and yes, I don’t mean to seem like a hypocrite, being Punk and all, but I don’t want to do this.”
He stops, and I clutch my phone in my hand, kind of wanting to throw it at him. Where the hell does he get off? He has friends. Why not ask them?
“Why would you ask me to do this?” I demand.
“Because it’s important.”
He glares at me, but I don’t think he’s angry.
Letting out a breath, his expression softens as he approaches me. “Because I need what’s in there, and because…you’re the one I trust. You’re the one I want here.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m serious, Ryen. Trust me, would you?”
“I trust people who don’t deliberately put me in danger,” I shoot back. “I thought we were doing something at the Cove or climbing a water tower or something. Not breaking into the principal’s house.”
“You break into the principal’s school,” he points out.
I twist up my lips, folding my arms over my chest. Jerk.
He regards me for a moment and then drops his eyes. Taking my hand, he places his keys in my palm. “You’re right. Go ahead and take the truck to your house. I’ll meet you there,” he tells me, relenting. “It’s only a mile away. I can walk it.”
What? No—
But he turns around and walks for Trey’s house, not giving me a chance to protest. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I don’t want him getting in trouble, either.
Something of his is in the house. So we’re not taking anything that doesn’t belong to them then. Okay.
I let out a sigh and run after him.
Just go. Don’t think.
I wonder how many people who got prison sentences said the same thing when they committed their crimes.
I see him head for the front door, digging something out of his pocket, but I eye the doggy door on the garage and then look around me. Anyone could drive by or a neighbor could possibly spot Masen at the door, trying to get in.
“The doggy door is a better idea,” I tell him, knowing Trey’s parents probably took the Husky with them to the game.
He jerks his head, eyeing the rectangular hole in the door. “I can’t fit through there.”
Of course not. Their dog is big but not that big.
I shake my head, hesitating for a moment. But then I heave a sigh and move toward the door.