The shock of it makes Jade freeze. She tries to change gears, but it is too late to do anything useful, so we just sit there. I attempt a weak smile, but my heart is pounding hard in my chest. I feel a cold sweat on my forehead as Anderson's car pulls up right next to ours. I turn my face away. We are in so much trouble.
"Are you following me?" he demands, his voice coming through his open window.
This is our moment to speed away, but instead, Anderson gets out of his car and marches toward my side. He is not even looking at Jade. He yanks my door open.
"Get out of the car."
I press my feet into the floor mat. "No."
"Well, I asked you politely."
A short cry escapes my lips as he pulls me from the vehicle like I weigh nothing. I try to swallow my fear and keep my expression blank as our eyes meet. His are wide and full of a hot anger, and I know I am the cause of it.
"I will ask you one more time. Were you stalking me?"
"No. We were here to see Iris."
"Iris, is that right?" I can only nod, my back pressed against the cold metal of the car, his breath warm on my face. "Your phone."
"What?"
"Your phone," Anderson repeats, his jaw set. I hand it over, and he pushes it toward me. "Unlock it." I do not ask why; I just do it. He lets go of me to tap on the screen. Jade finally gets out of her car. He holds up a single finger to silence her before she can speak. "You came here for Iris, correct?"
"Yeah," Jade says, full of false confidence. She gestures at the empty street around us. Anderson already knows we are lying. I try to stand up straight, but the force of his stare keeps me pinned against the car. He finds a contact and makes a call, putting it on speaker.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
Anderson gives me a cold smile. "You will see." The call connects. "Hello, Iris. This is Mr. Dissick. Where are you right now?"
"At home. Why? Wait, sir, where is Elara?"
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he answers, "She is right here. She says hello. Goodbye." He ends the call, that smug look still on his face. My heart gives a painful thud. If he tells my father about this, I will be grounded for a month. He takes a step back and points to his car. "Get in. Now."
No. I am not getting in that car. What if he tries to hurt me? I ball my hands into fists and lift my chin. He cannot just order me around because he is older. "Get in there, Elara, or I swear to god, you will not set foot in the music hall until you graduate."
That is all the motivation I need. I scramble into the passenger seat, my bag slipping from my shoulder. Jade gives me a guilty look as I get in, but fuck her. This stupid plan to follow him was her idea. This part of town is a wasteland, all empty houses and deserted streets. If something bad had happened to us, no one would have heard a thing. I was an idiot for going along with it.
I hum a soft melody to myself, trying to find some calm. But the moment Anderson gets into the driver's seat, any peace I had vanishes. He does not start the engine, forcing me to sit in the silence and think about what I have done.
For the next several minutes, all he does is tap his fingers on the dashboard in a slow, maddening pattern. It makes me want to scream. I put my fingers in my ears, but the sound only seems to get louder.
"Fine! I am sorry, Anderson," I burst out. Tap. Tap. Tap. Why will he not stop? He needs to stop. "I am sorry for following you. And for lying about how old I am."
The tapping stops. There is only silence as he turns his head to look at me, as if he is just now realizing I am in his car. Jade's Audi drives slowly past us. She honks the horn once, then speeds away, leaving me alone to deal with the mess we made.
I am never listening to one of her ideas again.
Anderson finally starts the car. He makes a series of turns that lead us back to streets I recognize. I hold onto the door handle, so tempted to open it and run from this heavy quiet. The silence is worse than the tapping. I would take any sound over this.
"Did you hear my apology?" I ask quietly. Rows of identical houses appear. Ours is just a few streets over. A mental image of him telling my dad everything flashes in my mind. I reach out and touch his arm, mumbling again, "Anderson, I am sorry."
"Okay."
That was far too easy. And suspicious. I turn in my seat to look at him fully. The muscles in his arm move each time he turns the steering wheel. My mouth goes a little dry. I know exactly where those hands would feel perfect on me.
What were we talking about? Right. The apology.
"Are we good?" I ask.
The car comes to a stop in front of our house. I play with the straps of my school bag to fill the quiet. "Were we ever not good, sis?"
"Do not call me that," I say, without meeting his eyes.
"Is 'sister' any better?"
"No. Brother."
He lets out a short, rough laugh that is over almost before it begins. I like the sound of his laugh. The way his head tilts back and his whole body seems to give in to it. He should laugh more often when I am around.
"What were you even doing back there?" I ask.
For someone new to a town I have lived in my whole life, his knowledge of that area is suspicious. We have always been told to avoid that part of the city because the people there are not friendly. Is my stepbrother involved with drugs? He does smoke. Does that mean he deals, or that he was there to buy?
"That is none of your business," he says at last. Fine. If that is how he wants it, I will not help him if he gets into trouble, and I will tell my dad to stay out of it, too. Anderson folds his arms. "Why do you keep failing chemistry?"
"That is none of your business," I shoot back.
For the first time, Anderson turns his whole body to face me. His gaze moves over me, as if he is seeing through my clothes with those blue eyes. His attention stops on my face and he shakes his head slowly. "Your hair is a terrible color."
"Your face is terrible," I reply, but there is no real anger in it.
"Why do you keep failing chemistry, Elara?"
I twist my hands together in my lap. No one has ever asked me that question. They always assume I am not trying hard enough, but that is not true. I crack my knuckles before I answer.
"Because I cannot make a song out of it."
"What does that mean?"
I cannot tell if Anderson is actually interested or just making conversation. I close my eyes so I do not have to see the judgment on his face. "I suppose my brain is just slower. If it takes you one minute to learn something, it takes me a minute and a half. So I try to make a melody out of everything to help me remember, but I cannot do that with chemistry. There are too many bonds and symbols."
When I open my eyes, Anderson is watching me with a look I cannot quite place. His hand is resting on the open window, and his mouth is turned down in a frown. He must think I am an idiot. Sometimes I feel like one, when I have to sing a formula under my breath before I can use it.
"I am a lost cause," I say, before he can say it for me.
"No, I do not agree," Anderson says, giving a small shake of his head. "You are not a lost cause, Elara. You just learn in a different way."
My heart does a complete somersault. If we were on better terms, I would hug him right now. "And you sing better than anyone I have ever heard."
Two kind things in less than a minute. My cheeks grow warm. I push a piece of hair behind my ear and look down.
"Not as good as you. You are the best."
"If you get any grade higher than an E on your next chemistry test, and after you apologize to the whole choir, I will put you on probation."
"Any grade at all?"
He nods. "As long as it is not an F."
I hold out my hand, and he takes it. A sudden, warm current passes between our palms, and my stomach flutters. "We have a deal." I look everywhere but directly at him. "I am sorry for yelling at you."
"Anything better than an F, and you are back in."