“This is awkward,” I heard Glitch say.

Just then a knock sounded at the door. “Honey, can we come in?” It was my grandmother.

I broke off the kiss and jumped to the ground. Dizzy from the heavy panting, I glanced around to hide the evidence before realizing there was no evidence to hide. Okay, fine, I could do this. After a deep, calming breath, and a quick smile tossed to Jared, I stepped back, smoothed my pajamas, then said, “Come on in, Grandma.”

She opened the door slowly and peeked around it. “You ate,” she said, sounding pleased.

I glanced back at the empty pizza box. “Oh, yeah. I’m feeling much better.”

With a pretense of pleasure, she offered me her ulterior-motive smile. I should’ve known she was up to something. “Good,” she said, examining the room quickly, “then you kids won’t mind coming downstairs for a bit.”

“But—”

She closed the door before I could argue. Then, when I least expected it, she reopened it and said, “All of you.”

“But—”

Nope. She was gone.

Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick …

“Um, maybe you should get dressed,” Glitch suggested.

“Oh, yeah, you’re probably right.” I offered Jared a shy smile, only just realizing what I must look like, before scrounging up a clean pair of jeans and a plain black tee. “’Kay, be right out,” I said, hurrying to the bathroom, suddenly unable to meet Jared’s eyes. I swore on all things holy, if my hair looked bad, God and I were going to have a long talk in church this Sunday.

I changed quickly, brushed my teeth, and ran wet fingers through the mop on top of my head more commonly referred to as hair. It wasn’t horrible, but there was always room for improvement. I let it fall down my back and offered up a silent prayer in the hopes that Jared liked redheads. Or dark auburn heads. Either way. He didn’t seem to mind my coloring. So far, so good. A boy once broke up with me in the third grade because he said he didn’t realize I had red hair until we went out onto the playground at recess. Our love had lasted twenty minutes. So as long as Jared and I stayed out of the sun, we should be good.

I stepped out to face the masses, though I zeroed in on Jared instantly. He was lounging against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he appraised me, appreciation lighting his face.

“Are we ready?” I asked, my voice more shaky than I’d hoped.

“I ain’t going down there,” Cameron said.

Brooklyn turned to him, mouth agape. “She said all of us, Cameron. Which means you too.”

“The hell it does,” he said, making for the fire escape.

She lunged forward and caught his T-shirt. “No way. If one of us faces the firing squad, all of us face the firing squad.”

“Those are illegal now, right?” Glitch asked.

“Do you think this is about the Southerns’ piano?” I asked, suddenly nervous. That thing must have cost a fortune. “We are so busted.”

Jared’s mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t think anyone down there is worried about the Southerns’ piano.”

“Well, okay, I guess that’s good.” I raised my brows to Brooklyn, who nodded in halfhearted agreement, clearly worried now herself.

When we started downstairs, Jared wrapped a hand around mine as Brooklyn dragged Cameron by the hem of his shirt. Glitch brought up the rear. The stairs led to the kitchen, but I heard voices in the living room beyond that. And not just my grandparents’. Startled, I asked Jared over my shoulder, “What did you mean anyone down there? Who’s here?”

“Lorelei.” He pulled me to a stop just before we got to the living room door and stepped closer. “Whatever is said, whatever is done, I want you to remember who I am.”

After a failed attempt at a smile, I asked, “Who are you?” I was so completely confused. Who was in my house? And what did this have to do with Jared?

He let out a long, withering sigh. “I’m the same guy you knew five minutes ago. I haven’t changed.”

I forced myself to think rationally. What did I really know about Jared? Every bit of information I received about him conflicted with some other bit, like trying to put together a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite fit. But I knew he’d saved my life. More than once. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

Cameron stepped behind him and spoke over his shoulder. “Worried?” he asked with a confident smirk.

“What’s going on?” I asked Jared in concern.

Cameron strolled past us and slid the pocket door that led to the living room. “Showtime,” he said, a menacing grin on his face.

The door opened, and a room full of people stood and faced us, like a surprise party without the party.

SANCTUARY

Bright lights illuminated face after face, most of whose I recognized, including Sheriff Villanueva, I noted with a rush of panic. Compared to the Southerns’ great room, ours was minuscule, but if I’d stopped to count, I knew I’d find at least fifty people in our living room, probably more.

I took a wary step back, but Brooklyn took my other hand and led me in. With her eyes on the sheriff, she said under her breath, “You were right. We are so busted.” Then she looked up and screeched to a halt. “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?”

Brooklyn’s mom held out her arms to her. She was the most beautiful African-American woman I’d ever seen, petite like Brooke with the same delicate shape and soft brown skin. But her dad was tall and thin and almost as white as I was. He was super good-looking, though, so I understood the attraction.