She tilts her head. “Yeah?”
“I’ll take you if you promise to leave me alone after this.”
“Deal.”
I groan, throwing my head back, sick of this never-ending torture. I already know I’m in over my head. “How exactly is this going to work?”
Her eyes dart over to the window she used to come into my room.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Come on. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve snuck out,” she says.
While she’s right, it doesn’t make it more appealing.
She grabs my wrist and tugs me across the room. “You first.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you not to lock me outside,” she says.
“That doesn’t even make sense. You’d probably march up to my front door and tell my mom everything.”
Her brow knits together. “True.” But then she pushes me closer to the open window. “Still, you first.”
I peer out the window at the dark night, and a shiver goes down my spine.
“Hurry up.”
I pull myself onto the windowsill and lower my leg out.
“Grab the trellis,” she says.
“I know.”
“Then go faster.”
She’s as impatient as ever.
I hang out of the house as I reach for the trellis. It isn’t the most stable escape route, but Emma used it countless times growing up. I grab on to the white plastic with little faith in its ability to hold my weight. I keep my eyes focused on my hands instead of down at the rose bushes below.
I climb lower as the trellis bows and bends.
Emma comes into view, first her leg, then her whole body hanging out as she reaches for the trellis above me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Coming down.”
“But you need to wait for me. This won’t hold both of us.”
And yet, Emma pulls herself over to the trellis.
My heart speeds up, bracing for impact, but nothing happens.
