I called Uncle J in the morning before I even got out of bed.
I stared at the ceiling while the phone rang, counting the numbers in my head like they could calm the restless buzzing under my skin.
He answered on the third ring.
“Remi.”
His voice was warm.
“I need your help,” I said quietly.
A pause.
Then, “What did you do?”
“Nothing. Yet.” I swallowed. “I just… I need my location to stay in school today. For a few hours.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“You’re being watched,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And you’re still going to do whatever you’re planning.”
“Yes.”
He sighed, the sound heavy with worry and resignation.
There’s nothing about computers and coding that Uncle J couldn’t do. “Send me your device ID.”
Relief spread through my chest like warmth.
Five minutes later, it was
