A car bumps over the curb and screeches to a stop on our grass. My father jumps out, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He races across the lawn, flinging himself toward Lena and Black. “Get outta here, you punks!” Black pushes Lena behind him and starts yelling back. “Dude, back up! Tonight ain’t the night.” I’m trembling. How much more drama before we’re finally safe? My father digs his phone from his pocket, and I register the words calling the cops. Oh, God. No. Whatever he’s thinking, no. No cops. No more trouble. “Dad, don’t,” I call. “Get inside, Campbell.” For the space of one
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