"Ms. Reyes can leave when I say she can," she return her attention back to her computer. That is so not fair. Dylan stands up, facing my direction. He then points and fake laughs at me. "Good day, Mr. Parker," Mrs. Beattie says sternly. I want to argue over why he gets to leave earlier, but I figure it won't do me well. I'll end up with detention for the next three days. At about four forty-five, Mrs. Beattie looks at me. "No more disturbances in my class, Ms. Reyes. You can go now." I ignore her and practically sprint out of the classroom. I wonder if Dylan waited for me or if he left. I won't be surprised if he left. Just as I'm walking out the front doors and pulling my phone out to call him, I run into a tall figure and I stop myself from losing my balance. "Don't go falling for me that easily. I like to play hard-to-get," Dylan says, smiling down at me. I laugh it off. Falling for Dylan? Yeah, right. "In your dreams, Parker. I thought you would've left me." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I thought about it." "But you didn't, so what's the plan?" I ask. "You mentioned you know someone who can help me?" "Ah, yes," he nods. "You wanna follow me in your car? We won't be too long." "Sure," I say slowly. He's being vague about who we're going to see and where. If it's going to be Anthony, Reece, or Carlos, I don't want to hear what they have to say. I'm not one hundred percent sure if I want anyone's help. I think he senses my hesitation because he says, "Don't worry. You'll feel better when you see him." I follow Dylan's little black car and I recognize the streets he leads us down. I haven't been this way since Casey and I went to his party. When we pull up to his house, I can't help but feel more anxious about the situation. Why has he brought me to his house? There is one other car sitting in the driveway, is that the guy who is going to help me? "Don't say anything yet," he says as he walks towards me after parking. "Just trust me." The nervous pit in my stomach hasn't left in a couple days, but I trust him. Dylan can be a bit of an ass, but he hasn't given me a reason not to trust him. He unlocks the large wooden door and opens it. The sound of a TV is playing in the background. Everything seems to be neat and tidy, compared to the mess it had been during the party. It definitely looks different without a bunch of teen aged bodies scattered throughout. "Mary Helen, I'm home!" Dylan calls out. Even though I've been here before, it feels more intimate when it's nearly empty. A short woman with short brown hair comes into view and she gives Dylan a stern look. "You aren't home on time," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "Sorry, I got detention." "Do I have to tell your dad?" she asks. "You know he—" "I know, Mary Helen, I know," he sighs. His eyes meet mine and he looks at Mary Helen again. "This is my friend Lacey. Lacey, this is Mary Helen." I offer my hand to her. "It's nice to meet you." She shakes my hand and smiles back. "You too, Lacey. Beautiful name." She glances at Dylan. "Are you sure it was detention that kept you?" Oh God. "She's a friend," he stresses. It doesn't seem like she believes him, but she grabs what looks like her purse from the small table near us. "I gotta go. It's nice to meet you, Lacey." She put a hand on my shoulder before pointing at Dylan. "No funny business." He chuckles at her. "Bye, Mary Helen." She hustles out the door and I realize I don't know who she is to him. "Is she a relative?" I ask. "Her? No," he shakes his head. "She cleans up and watches over—" "DYLAN!" The sound of someone else yelling makes me jump. I hear footsteps running in the distance until a young boy comes to the area near the front door where we're standing. His hair is the same color as Dylan's, only a little longer. His eyes are a blue-green color, almost like the ocean. "You're home finally," he tells Dylan. "Can you make me a grilled cheese?" I look at Dylan and he smiles. "Lace, this is my brother Ethan. Ethan, this is my friend Lacey." Ethan scans me and waves. "That's a weird name." Dylan gives him a flat look while I laugh. I like this kid already. "I'll make you a grilled cheese, just give me a minute," Dylan tells him. Ethan nods and runs off into the living room area. Appearance-wise, he's just like Dylan. The hair, the eyes, even the way he stood is exactly like Dylan. "Cute. How old is he?" I ask. "Ten," he says. "And he's going to help you with your relationship problems."