26
Jess
I’m standing in the produce section of Whole Foods trying to decide if organic kale is worth the extra three dollars when my phone vibrates.
Marco.
My stomach does that annoying butterfly thing it’s been doing since the latest kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Hey,” I answer, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can keep pretending I’m actually going to buy this kale.
“Where are you?” His voice has that tight edge that means something’s wrong.
I abandon the kale immediately. “Whole Foods. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Filepe spotted the blacked sedan again, near the school.” In the background I can hear doors opening and closing, voices approaching and receding. He’s moving while he talks. “Jag’s coming to get you now. You’ll do pickup together.”
My heart rate spikes. “Wait, what? It’s only one thirty. She doesn’t get out until three thirty.”
“I know.” There’s a pause. Then: “I’m pulling Ben early. Something feels off today. I can smell a press storm coming.”
“Okay.” I’m already moving toward the self checkout. “Where should I meet Jag?”
“Text him the address and he’ll be there in fifteen. Just get to the school.”
He hangs up.
I send Jag the text and make it through checkout in record time.
Jag’s already waiting outside. He’s leaning against the Range Rover looking like every action movie bodyguard ever, except this is my actual life now.
“That bad?” I ask, climbing into the back seat.
“Bad enough.” He pulls into traffic. “Filepe counted three vehicles circling the school. Known paparazzi plates.”
My phone buzzes. Filepe in the security group chat.
Adding two additional plates to watchlist. Silver Mazda returned. Front entrance compromised. Use staff door.
The drive takes exactly eleven minutes. Jag doesn’t mess around with traffic laws when Marco gives orders.
We pull up at the staff entrance. A security guard I don’t recognize nods us through. Filepe’s already inside, talking quietly with someone who looks like administration.
“Mrs. Chen’s bringing Ben to the nurse’s office,” Filepe says when we reach him. “Quieter exit.”
Except nothing about this is quiet.
Because when we round the corner to the nurse’s office, Ben is having a full meltdown in the hallway.
She’s on the floor. Knees pulled up. Frederickhugged tightly to her chest. Face red and tear-streaked. That frozen panic where she can’t even process what’s happening around her.
Oh no.
This is bad.
And standing about ten feet away is another parent with their phone out. Filming.
“Excuse me.” I move toward the parent, keeping my voice calm even though I want to scream. “Could you please not film? Her family has a strict privacy policy.”
