Cruz stares back at me with a sucker-punched look on his face. An intense sequence of emotions flits across his face.

Shock. 

Hesitation. 

Distress.

He must think I'm insane, and I don't blame him. I know we're minors. I know neither of us possesses a steady income. I know what I've suggested is borderline crazy, stupid, and full of risk, but it feels like a better alternative than letting Cruz stay with his dad. Without Aunt Katrina or me around as their buffer, I'm almost certain that Ron will take out his aggression on Cruz. I've already seen Ron get verbally abusive with Cruz multiple times, and, just now, shit got physical. There was literal blood and actual broken bones. I'm scared of what might happen to Cruz when Ron comes back.

"Come with me," I beg, "please, baby."

Quietly, he asks, "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere but here."

Cruz laughs humorlessly. "Believe me, Athena, there's nothing I want more than to run away with you. But we have to plan this shit out. Carefully. Or else we're gonna fuck up our futures before they even begin."

"I know," I mumble, "I know..."

"We're not old enough to rent an apartment," he points out. "We'll be homeless."

His point is valid, but I try to stay optimistic, foolishly so, and supply, "I have a fake ID. I also have some savings from my, ah, side hustle. Maybe you could get a part-time job. Being on our own will be a grind, but we could make it work."

Cruz glances away. "I dunno..."

"What if we go to my dad's house?"

His gaze returns to me. "I thought you needed to wait for him to call you back?"

"Well, technically, he's still my legal guardian," I reply with a grimace. "If we show up at his doorstep, then it'll be hard for him to turn us away. Harder than saying 'no' to me on the phone, for sure. I'll try to convince my dad to let us crash at his place for a week or two. Until we can figure out a better solution."

Cruz's eyes pop out. "You want me to crash at your dad's place?"

I chuckle nervously. "Yes?"

He looks doubtful. "I'm not sure if he'll take me in."

Doubt sinks into me as well, but this seems to be our only option at the moment. "But we gotta try. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?"

Cruz frowns deeply at my remark, and he stays silent for a few heart-clenching beats.

Is he about to reject my idea?

I wait with bated breath, predicting the worst. But, then, he surprises me and gives in, "Alright, then. Let's go find your dad."

My mouth parts in shock. "For real?"

I wasn't expecting Cruz to get on board so quickly.

He nods. "My dad's psychotic. At least, your dad just sounds like a selfish prick. I'd rather take my chances with him."

My dad definitely seems like the lesser of two evils in this scenario. "I can't disagree with you there."

"Right?"

I give him a small, scared smile. "So... are we really doing this?"

Cruz eyes me with trepidation. "I think so?"

My nerves start flailing like an overturned turtle. Anxiety shoots into overdrive. I resent being at my dad's mercy. I hate putting Cruz in this position as well. I don't know what the next few days have in store for us, and this big looming question mark weighs on me like a motherfucking truck.

Cruz seems to sense my unease. "Hey, no matter what happens, we have each other, okay?"

He pulls me toward him and dusts a light kiss across my temple. I lean into his chest. His closeness comforts me. If only for a moment.

"No matter what," I echo in agreement, "we're in this together."

Just then, I hear the garage door open. I glance out my window and catch a glimpse of Ron's car peeling out of the driveway. I can only assume that he's driving himself to the ER. Another wave of relief spreads through me. Hopefully, Ron will be out of our hair for a while.

Over the next thirty minutes, Cruz and I take advantage of his absence to prepare for our escape. I dash around my room while Cruz heads back to his room. We start packing up our stuff. I grab all of my weed money first. Then, my clothes. Toiletries. Textbooks and school supplies.

When I'm finally done, I pop my head into Cruz's room to check on his progress. "Ready?"

His green eyes drift toward me while he zips up his backpack. "Almost. Gimme five more minutes. I'll meet you in the driveway?"

"Sounds good."

I head downstairs, shuffling awkwardly through the living room with my belongings in tow. I stumble out the front door. As I stand on the driveway with my entire life crammed into one backpack, one duffel bag, and two suitcases, waiting for Cruz, to my right, I notice a package sitting on the porch. I walk over to inspect the rectangular cardboard box. My eyebrows shoot up once I realize the shipping label is addressed to me. It appears to be Cruz's laptop. The new one I had ordered to replace the old one Ron smashed into the wall.

I quickly snatch up the box and tuck it into my duffel bag. The black cloud hanging over me feels somewhat lighter. In a way, the package is a blessing on this shitty, shitty day. Anticipation flutters through me. I can't wait to give it to Cruz. I hope it'll cheer him up. Just a little. But the timing also feels like a joke. Cruz and I are on the verge of becoming homeless, and laptops are a luxury. Not a necessity.

I wonder if I'll have to return the laptop to help pay for rent and other expenses?

A coil of doom and gloom twists in my chest. I'm worried about finding a place for Cruz and me before we turn eighteen. I don't need a big, fancy house like Ron's mansion. I just need a roof over our heads. I struggle to stay strong. I remind myself that I already know what it's like to be poor. That I know how to live with next to nothing.

This very moment reminds me of the day Persie and I had to move out of our trailer. Right after our mom's death. Persie stayed behind in New Jersey. To go live with her foster family. I flew out to Arizona. To meet my dad and Aunt Katrina at the airport. It was my first and only time on a plane.

Since then, I've learned not to get too attached to places or things. It's only the people who matter. People like my mom. Like Persie. Like Cruz. I need to remember these hard facts as my world comes crumbling down.

Exactly five minutes later, Cruz appears in the driveway with his backpack and just one suitcase. He's definitely traveling lighter than me. I call up an Uber. Cruz doesn't want to drive us in his SUV since it belongs to Ron. Ron might use it as an excuse to report a stolen vehicle or some petty shit like that.

The Uber drops us off at my dad's townhouse. My dad lives in an older neighborhood in Tempe. It's nowhere near as nice as Ron's gated community, but it's relatively safe and definitely not as shady as my mom's trailer park. Cruz helps carry some of my bags as we march, hand in hand, up to my dad's front door.

I glance at him. "You ready?"

He arches an eyebrow and redirects the same question at me, "Are you?"

"Fuck, yeah," I confirm with far more confidence than I possess.

I take in a deep breath and ring the bell. I hear it chime. A minute later, footsteps and voices grow louder on the other side of the door. An angry-sounding female voice drowns out a male voice. She doesn't sound like Aunt Katrina. The woman must be Dana. My dad's wife.

Several more minutes pass by before the door swings open. My eyes grow round when my dad finally appears before me. Joshua Rose. In the flesh. He possesses the same lighter complexion, brown hair, and blue eyes as Aunt Katrina, but nothing about him feels familiar to me. He's a stranger in my eyes. I'm a stranger in his eyes. As we size up one another, my pulse thumps away like a pounding drum. I can tell he's shocked to see me.

"Athena!" my dad exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

Fidgeting, I try to answer him without losing my cool, "Surprise! I, um, decided to show up a bit early—"

Just then, my dad notices Cruz and demands anxiously, "Who's he?"

Cruz replies in very respectful tones, "My name is Cruz Recker, sir. I'm Ron's... son."

My dad's face immediately darkens at the mention of Ron's name. "You're that bastard's kid? What the fuck are you doing at my house!"

My stomach drops to the ground. 

Shit.

This wasn't how I envisioned our first meeting, like, at all. It's time to do some damage control.

Imploring my dad, I plead with wide, desperate eyes, "I know this looks really messed up, dad. But I didn't feel right about leaving Cruz at home with Ron. It wasn't a safe environment. And I know I was supposed to wait for your call tomorrow, but I came to you because we have nowhere else to go. Please let us stay with you. Just for a few months. Or even a few days. I promise Cruz and I will disappear as soon as we turn eighteen. We won't cause any trouble. I can pay for my own food and expenses. I'll even help out with your rent and bills if you want."

A troubled gleam enters my dad's eyes. He releases a heavy sigh. "Athena..."

"Yes?"

"You should probably come inside. There's something I should talk to you about."

I study my dad closely, but I can't tell if he's about to give me good or bad news, and the suspense nearly kills me. "Okay, sure, let's talk..."

Cruz and I attempt to enter the front door, but my dad places a firm hand on Cruz's shoulder, halting him in mid-step. "Sorry, Cruz. Not you. Just Athena."

I glare at my dad, "Anything you wanna say to me, you can say to Cruz as well."

My dad glares back at me. "I don't think so, Athena."

"That's fine, sir, I understand," Cruz mumbles. "I guess, uh, I'll wait out here."

Glancing worriedly at Cruz, I protest, "But, dad, I want Cruz to come."

"This will only take a minute," my dad insists.

"Just go," Cruz murmurs to me, smiling as though everything is fine. "I'll be here whenever you guys are done."

Giving him one last lingering look, I promise reluctantly, "I'll be right back, okay? We stay together. No matter what."

This time, Cruz's smile looks genuine when he whispers, "I know."

My heart swells happily at the sight of his smile. It makes me want to kiss him with every fiber of my being. But I control myself. Instead, I follow my dad into his living room. Turning my head this way and that way, I peer around house. Toward the hallway. Toward the kitchen. Aunt Katrina and Dana are nowhere to be seen.

My dad gestures to the couch. "Take a seat."

I sit down and wait for the man to spill his tea.

He clears his throat. "So..."

In a clumsy manner, I echo him, "So..."

"You'll never guess who called me last week."

What does this person have to do with me?

My brow furrows. "Okay..."

My dad averts his gaze. "I've been meaning to get in touch with you, Athena, but I just, uh, didn't know how to start the conversation."

Feeling on edge, I press him for more details, "Who called you?"

"Your great aunt. On your mom's side."

Disbelief rises in me. I parrot him like a slack-jawed idiot, "My great aunt? On my mom's side?"

How was this even possible?

Not even my mom knew anyone from her side of the family tree.

My dad explains, "She's your grandma's younger sister. Her name is Nascha Benally. And she wants you to go live with her."