“Well…” my mom mutters. “If it wasn’t you, then who’s been bringing bodies to old Otto over at the scrapyard?”
I spit out my coffee.
Across the table.
Right into my mother’s face.
She glares at me with her cup still firmly in her hands, and my face turns beet red. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Silas bursts out laughing, pointing at our mother. “Look at your face!”
My dad suddenly waltzes in and throws the pizza boxes he got on the table. “Dinnertime!”
Everyone stares at him like it’s the most inopportune time for him to barge in, and he squawks, “What?”
But then he notices my mom covered in coffee, and his eyes widen. “Yikes.”
“I’ll go grab a towel.” I quickly get up and walk to the kitchen, but halfway there, my phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket and check the messages.
Sunny: Where are u?
My eyes widen,my heart instantly going a million miles an hour. She’s never texted me before.
Me: At my parents’ house for dinner. What’s going on? Something happen to you?
I bitemy lip waiting for a reply, but it never comes. Not even a couple of dots. Strange.
I fetch the towel and turn on the faucet to dip it under the water, then bring it back to the dining room, but my mom has already started wiping her face with some napkins.
“Sorry, Mom,” I mutter as I hand it to her.
She gently wipes her face with the towel, then rolls her eyes as she places it down on the table. Before I can walk off, she grabs my hand.
“Are you involved?”
My eye begins to twitch. “What?”
“Are you involved in the killings?”
“I … I …” I don’t know how to answer.
What should I say? If I admit that I’ve been helping Sunny kill all these people, either Sunny kills me or they will. Either way, I’m screwed.
“Xavier,” Dad presses. “Answer your mom.”
“What killings?” I mutter, laughing it off as casually as I can, but I know I look dumb as fuck.
Silas leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “Interesting …”
“What?” I bark, throwing him a weirded-out glance.
He grins. “Nothing.”
“I don’t even know what y’all are talking about,” I say.
“You spat coffee all over your mother when she mentioned Otto’s scrapyard,” Dad says, as he takes a slice of pizza and munches on it like nothing is going on.
“I just got spooked by the idea of more bodies, that’s all,” I reply, jerking my hand free from my mom’s grip. “Anyway, I’m hungry. Can we eat now?”
