Page 24 of The Intruder

BEFORE

ELLA

I am fiddling with the combination on my locker when Anton comes up behind me.

I was dreading today because of him; I was sure he would tell the entire school about my weirdo house, and everyone would tease me about my biggest secret.

But strangely enough, nobody has said anything—not a word.

Except that doesn’t mean he hasn’t told.

It just means that the word hasn’t had a chance to spread yet.

Anton looks better than he did yesterday, although he still looks like a kid who got beaten up very recently.

He has a black eye, and his lower lip looks like it is one big smile away from splitting open again.

He doesn’t say hello. He just taps me on the shoulder and holds out a scrap of paper.

I take it from him, and when I look down at the scribbled handwriting, I realize it’s an address.

“That’s where I live,” he says.

“Oh.”

“You said you wanted to come over to my house to work on the project. So.”

“Oh.” I squint down at the numbers of his address. “Does that say twenty-four or twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-nine. Sorry, my handwriting sucks.” He frowns. “If you’re not doing anything right after school, I can show you how to get there. I usually take a shortcut.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He shuffles his weight between his muddy sneakers. “I’ll meet you behind the school at three fifteen.”

I nod, and he starts to walk away, but then I call out his name, and he stops. “Hey,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Did you…?” I gingerly rub my forearm, where the cigarette burn has turned into a blister. Eventually, it will heal and then leave behind a little white circle easily concealed by a long-sleeved shirt—or at least that’s what I assume based on last time. “Did you tell anyone about my house?”

Anton looks at me for a few seconds, then he lifts a shoulder. “Nothing to tell.”

As he walks away, I feel a mix of relief and disbelief that Anton Peterson kept my secret.