Chương 6
Tasha felt another cold wave.
“Why?”
“Because there were cops outside.”
“What cops?”
“Somebody called about noise.”
“And Malik gave you drugs to hold.”
Devon shook his head quickly.
“It was not like a bag or something.”
“What was it like?”
“A bottle.”
“Prescription bottle?”
“I guess.”
“With your name on it?”
“No.”
“His?”
“I do not know.”
James pressed his thumb against his lower lip.
“And the pictures?”
“Malik took one when I had it.”
Tasha stared.
“Of you holding the bottle.”
Devon nodded.
“He said it was funny.”
James’s face went blank.
“Anything else?”
Devon looked at the floor.
“That is it.”
Tasha watched him.
She knew the difference between his silence when he was finished and his silence when he was deciding whether to lie again.
“So there is more.”
He glared at her.
“Stop.”
“There is.”
“Tasha.”
“What else did he take pictures of?”
“Nothing.”
James stood.
“Devon.”
Devon breathed out hard.
“There was money on the table.”
James’s expression tightened.
“What money?”
“I do not know.”
“How much?”
“I do not know.”
“Whose?”
“I said I do not know.”
James held up a hand.
“Lower your voice.”
Devon did.
His shoulders slumped.
“Malik took a picture of me holding the bottle with the money behind me.”
“And he told you it looked like what?”
Devon swallowed.
“Like I was selling.”
Tasha stared at him.
Renee sat down again.
James remained standing.
“Has he threatened to send it to anyone?”
Devon shook his head.
“He just reminds me he has it.”
“When?”
“When I say I cannot pay.”
Tasha felt the anger inside her shift shape.
It did not disappear.
It became more complicated and therefore harder to hold.
“Why did you not tell Dad?”
Devon laughed bitterly.
“Tell Dad what?”
“That some guy was blackmailing you.”
“He did not blackmail me.”
“He used a picture to make you pay him.”
“He never said he would post it.”
“He did not have to.”
Devon looked at her.
For a second they were not brother and sister fighting over stolen property.
They were two scared teenagers standing in the same bedroom, both suddenly aware that the problem had grown beyond anything either of them understood.
Then Tasha looked at the empty space beneath her desk, and the brief sympathy curdled.
“You still chose my room.”
Devon’s face fell.
She continued.
“You were scared, so you came in here.”
“Tasha.”
“No.”
She pointed at the dresser.
“You could have told Mom.”
She pointed at James.
“You could have told Dad.”
She pointed toward herself.
“You could have told me.”
Devon stared at her.
“You would not understand.”
“You did not give me a chance.”
He looked away.
James picked up his own phone.
Devon stepped toward him.
“Do not call.”
James looked at the screen.
“I am not calling Malik.”
“The police?”
“Yes.”
“Dad, please.”
James lifted his eyes.
“What exactly are you asking me to protect you from?”
Devon did not answer.
“A picture?”
Silence.
“Getting grounded?”
Silence.
“Getting in trouble at school?”
Devon looked away.
James’s voice softened, and somehow that made it more severe.
“You have been protecting yourself from consequences by creating bigger consequences for everybody around you.”
Devon’s eyes reddened.
James unlocked his phone.
“I am done helping you do that.”
He walked toward the hallway.
Renee followed him.
Devon stood frozen.
Tasha watched him for a moment, then bent and picked up the loose computer cable from the floor.
It had twisted around one leg of the desk chair.
She untangled it slowly.
Behind her, Devon whispered, “I really was going to get it back.”
Tasha did not turn around.
“I know.”
He sounded surprised.
She wrapped the cable once around her hand, then stopped herself and let it fall loose.
“That is the problem.”
Devon said nothing.
“You keep thinking what you meant to do matters more than what you actually did.”
His breathing caught.
Tasha faced him.
For once he had no defense ready.
Downstairs, James’s voice began speaking to someone on the phone.
Calm.
Precise.
Giving the address.
Devon looked toward the doorway.
Fear sharpened his face.
Tasha saw him make a decision before he moved.
He snatched his phone from the desk.
“Devon.”
He was already typing.
Tasha crossed the space between them.
“Do not text him.”
“I can fix this.”
“No.”
“I can get him to tell me where the computer is.”
“Dad said not to contact him.”
“He does not understand.”
“You said that already.”
Devon’s thumb moved.
Tasha grabbed his wrist.
He pulled away.
“Get off me.”
“Do not send it.”
“I need to.”
“No, you need to stop making decisions alone.”
He stared at her.
The words seemed to strike someplace deeper than she intended.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
Then a message arrived before he could send his.
M.
One new line.
You should have kept your family out of it.
Devon’s face emptied.
Tasha read the message over his shoulder.
Another message appeared.
Then a photograph.
Tasha’s missing gaming tower sat on a concrete floor beside a shipping box with its side panel removed.
The graphics card was gone.
So was the memory.
The machine she had spent two years building her life around had already been stripped apart.
Devon made a broken sound.
Tasha did not.
She stared at the photograph until every familiar scratch and sticker stopped looking like hers.
Then a third message arrived.
Tell your father the rest comes next.
Tasha read the last message twice.
Devon did not move.
From downstairs came James’s steady voice giving someone his name and then spelling the street address.
Tasha reached for the phone.
“Give me that.”
Devon pulled it against his chest.
“No.”
“He is threatening us.”
“He is threatening me.”
“He sent a picture of my computer.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Tasha pointed at the stripped tower on the screen.
“That was mine.”
Devon’s face twisted.
May you like
“You think I don’t feel bad?”
“I think you still think this is about how you feel.”
