55. Monday #2
“What are we trying?” Dylan asks.
“You’re going to hang out with Wylan and Andy around the back while I head near the front of the school buildings. I want to see if he’s doing an actual lap of the school or only surveying the back, lower fences.”
“Fuck, this is so cool,” Dylan says with a smirk. “I feel like I am in some kind of action spy movie.”
Sammy giggles, admitting she feels the same as well.
However, it doesn’t feel like that for me. I don’t feel like this is a detective movie. This immense pressure is weighing me down, and the way my dad acts scares me more than ever. Something is going on, and I am frightened by the outcome.
The bell rings, and I barely touch my sandwich. We pack up our belongings, and I place the sandwich in my bag and shrug my bag over my shoulders. While Conner and I head towards our art class, Dylan and Sammy attend their culinary class.
My hand grips his, and we walk in silence.
Both of us have a lot on our minds. It’s more than likely the same thing—why is my dad hovering around the outside of my school?
Maybe what Conner says is accurate, and Dad is worried I will run away once I turn eighteen, and Dad knows the police wouldn’t care because I am of legal age.
Therefore, he’s doing everything he can to stop that from happening.
However, wouldn’t he tie me up in my bedroom if that were the case?
No, he can’t do that… not anymore. He knows how close I am to my friends.
Tying me up won’t do anything but make him look even more guilty.
I’m seeing my dad’s capabilities as a police officer for the first time, and he directs all his focus on me.
“We might need to change our plans,” Conner whispers while we draw in our art books.
My grip tightens on my pencil.
“If your dad is watching you at school, our only chances are you sneak out at work or…” His eyes darken.
“Or?” I persist.
“You find an opportunity at home and run for it.”
I hiss out a harsh breath.
“It’s scary, I know. But your dad has ill intentions, and I…
I am worried he might do something reckless the longer you stay there.
” His hand touches my thigh, and he squeezes gently.
“Don’t worry about Friday. Any chance you get, even if it’s tonight, take it.
Go somewhere and hide. When you feel like it’s safe, call me, and I will pick you up from there. ”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“We could go to the police about it if you wanted?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No. My dad is sneaky and persuasive. They won’t do anything.”
“Not all of them are bad, Noya. If you’re scared for your life, going to the police is the smartest option.”
“Your mum filed a report against my parents when she was my therapist,” I blurt.
Conner stops drawing. His eyes widen, and his face drains of colour.
“And I’m still here. I will try the work one first. Dad can’t have eyes on the store’s front and back.
I can sneak around the back if you meet me there. We do that tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Tonight is the night I finally take back my life.”
After art, I head to the drama room while Conner heads to the front of the school. My nerves are overwhelming as I clench my hands, feeling the nervous sweat build up in my palms of my hands.
Sammy is already in the room. She stands abruptly, but then sags her shoulders when she notices it’s only me.
I sit beside her, and we speak briefly. We are both nervous wrecks, which inevitably makes me feel guilty for bringing Sammy and Dylan into my mess.
It’s not something I wanted to place on them, and now here we are, waiting for Dylan and Conner to come back with any news.
They told us they would spend half of lunch before heading back here.
“Can I ask you something, Noya?” Sammy says, scratching at her glittery black fingernails.
“Sure.”
“Is there a reason your dad doesn’t want you to leave home?”
I bite my lip. I expected this question.
This year, Sammy often complains that her parents want her out of the house as soon as she hits eighteen.
They say things such as, “I can’t wait until you’re eighteen and can leave”, or “Did you figure out what university you want to apply to? Don’t forget to go on the list for a dorm room,” or “When you’re eighteen, you won’t be my responsibility anymore.
” Sammy laughs it off, telling me her parents are joking, but I see the hurt in her eyes whenever she talks about it to Dylan.
If these were different circumstances, I could tell she’d be envious that my parents wanted me to stay forever.
“I’m not really sure,” I admit with a frown. “Some part of me thinks he doesn’t want to be alone. I’ve never asked.”
“You were too afraid to ask?”
I nod.
Sammy sighs while leaning her head against my shoulder. “At least you have us, and… I also have all of you.” She breathes a laugh. “To be honest, Noya, if I didn’t have you in Year Eight, I don’t know where I’d be.”
“Same,” I agree.
She raises her pinky finger. “Best friends forever.”
Raising my pinky finger, I clasp it around hers. “Best friends forever.”
The door opens, and Dylan comes in first, Conner following. Sammy and I sit up straight in our seats.
“What’s the verdict?” Sammy asks before they can even sit down.
“Well…” Dylan scratches his head with a grave look on his face. “He went around nine times. He had his windows up and drove slower when he neared where we hang out.”
I then turn towards Conner. He takes a sip of his water before handing it to me. “He drove fast around the front until he got to the car park. He slowed down. I think he was scanning it, in case you were there, getting ready to leave, and then he sped off after passing the car park.”
I unzip my bag and search for the rest of the sandwich. After listening to this news, I need something to eat and something to do before I panic and hyperventilate.
I rummage for it while Sammy talks about what to do next. Moving my pencil case out of the way, I grab the packaged sandwich when something catches my eye. I furrow my brows while holding the block piece of machinery that fits perfectly within my hand.
“Can I have a look?” Conner asks, immediately at my side.
“Oh… okay.” I hand him the device. He flips it over, pulls out his phone, and types in the serial number on the back of it. Sammy stops talking, also curious about what I handed him.
“What is it?” Dylan asks.
Conner closes his eyes and breathes out deeply. “It’s a police GPS tracker,” he announces.
“What the fuck,” Sammy breathes. “Your dad is going into full FBI mode on you. That’s fucked up.”
“What should we do with it?” Dylan demands. “We need to get rid of it. Destroy the evidence, right?”
“No.” Conner places it back in my bag. “From what I read online—don’t quote me—this type of tracker is enhanced.
Some trackers show a location that you’re around that general area, but this one is…
” His eyes focus on his phone. “This GPS tracker knows she’s in this building specifically.
It knows she’s in this room. This GPS shows her exact location.
So, wherever her bag goes, her dad will know. ”
“Can’t we swap, then?” Sammy asks. “Put it in my bag, and you two head to the parking lot while I pretend I’m still at the school.”
“We don’t know how long it’s been in her bag,” Dylan chimes in.
“And?” Sammy questions.
“Think about it. What if it was in her bag for weeks? Even months. Her dad has been tracking her location this entire time and knows her school routine. Taking the GPS tracker won’t do anything but make her dad more suspicious.”
“Shit.” Sammy groans. “What do we do now?”
“Pretend as if we never found it,” Conner declares. “We’re going to sneak away tonight while she’s at work. If it fails, we can think of how to abuse this knowledge for tomorrow.”
“What happens after our plan succeeds?” Sammy asks. “Her dad will probably ask the principal if Noya has been at school. He will call me, but he will also try to call Andy. And we all know Andy and Noya aren’t on good terms.”
“I don’t think he’d do anything to harm Noya,” Dylan defends.
“I know he doesn’t like Noya’s dad. He has mentioned it a few times when he was drunk, talking about Noya and hoping she was okay at home.
I thought it was because Noya had strict parents…
nothing like this batshit crazy, living in a stalker thriller movie crap.
” He smiles apologetically at me. “No offence.”
“None taken,” I murmur.
“That still doesn’t help us if Noya’s dad rocks up at school while she’s here,” Sammy says.
“I thought of that when we planned to move in together,” Conner muses.
“If the principal agrees, I can attend her class to get the work she needs. She might not need to, considering school is nearly finished.” He places his hand on my leg and turns to me.
“You might need to do online Year Twelve next year, though, if your dad persists. Also, get rid of that phone. Who knows what your dad secretly installed on there?”
“Now?” I question.
“When we leave,” Conner replies.
The bell rings for class.
Before leaving with Dylan, Sammy says, “Message me if you end up doing it tonight.”
Conner wraps his arms around my shoulders and presses his lips against my temple.
“I feel like a burden,” I whisper as my hands tighten on his shirt. “This whole time, I’ve been nothing but a burden.”
“No, baby,” he whispers into my hair. “You aren’t.”
Then why does it feel like I am? It was as if I couldn’t do anything but sit here and watch everyone do everything for me. When have I ever done something for them? Sammy defended me against Sarah Jane. Conner protects me all the time. Even Dylan is helping, and we’ve barely spoken since I met him.
I am nothing but a liability. I’m someone everyone sees as a weakness.
I’m weak.