"Erm, someone's here for you!" Gerald called from the front door, his voice carrying through the cramped house. I was in the kitchen, elbows-deep in dishes, hands slick with soap. I rinsed them quickly and dried them on a towel, my mind racing. Who on earth would know I was here? Panic bubbled up inside me. Had my dad actually called the police? Had they tracked me down?
"Kid?" Gerald called again, a bit louder, sounding impatient.
I didn’t respond, hoping he’d figure out to send them away. My chest tightened as I imagined who could be out there, but Gerald’s next words sent a jolt through me.
"There's this really hot Black boy looking for you!"
Ali. How did he find me? I froze, every muscle tensing. Ali had probably been worried sick, and now he was here. My pulse thudded as I heard muffled sounds of an argument outside, the scuffle of shoes against the steps, then the scrape of the door opening wider.