1642734778_punk-57-pdf

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.”