The video began with darkness, dust, and my own uneven breathing.
I shifted the phone until the narrow opening beneath the bed came into view. Ralph's face was mostly hidden, but that didn't matter. His shoes were visible. His gloves were visible. Valeria's backpack was visible.
Most importantly, so was the bottle.
He pushed it farther into the zippered pocket and stood.
I kept recording.
Ralph pulled out his phone and made another call.
“It's done.”
He listened.
“No. Don't do anything yet.”
A pause.
“At dismissal. That's when you make the call.”
My fingers tightened around my phone.
Ralph paced slowly outside my room.
“Tell the principal exactly where to look. Side pocket. Bottom.”
I stopped breathing.
This wasn't some impulsive attempt to frighten Valeria.
Someone else was involved.
Ralph lowered his voice.
“The pills came from Ellen's pharmacy. That's the whole point.”
My stomach turned.
Mom's pharmacy.
For a moment I forgot about Valeria entirely.
Ralph continued.
“They'll think the kid stole them and planned to sell them.”
He listened again, then laughed softly.
“No, Ellen won't be able to explain it. If inventory comes up short, they'll look at her.”
I stared at the phone screen.
Now I understood enough to be terrified.
Valeria wasn't his only target.
Mom was.
For months, Ralph had been pushing her to change the ownership papers for our apartment.
The apartment wasn't fancy. The pipes rattled every winter, the kitchen tiles were older than I was, and one window in Valeria's room never shut properly.
But it was ours.
Mom's father had paid for most of it before he died.
Whenever Ralph said the property should be transferred into his name because he was “the man of the house,” Mom gave him the same answer.
“My father bought this home for his family. It belongs to my daughters after me.”
Ralph hated hearing that.
Once, after she said it, he had gone silent for the rest of dinner.
Another time he knocked his glass into the sink hard enough to crack it.
Mom had started keeping important papers somewhere outside the apartment. She never told us where.
I hadn't understood why.
Under the bed, listening to Ralph arrange my sister's destruction over the phone, I finally did.
“If the school reports Valeria,” Ralph said, “Ellen gets dragged into it automatically.”
Another pause.
“And once she's scared enough, she'll listen.”
My mouth went dry.
Listen to what?
Ralph turned toward my bedroom.
I lowered the phone instantly.
His shoes stopped outside my door.
For several seconds, nothing moved.
Then he stepped inside.
I could see his feet inches away.
My phone screen was still glowing.
I pressed it against my chest.
Ralph stood beside my bed.
A bead of sweat slid from my temple into my hair.
If he bent down, it was over.
Instead, he reached toward something above me. I heard the scrape of my desk drawer.
He was searching my room too.
Why?
The question frightened me almost as much as the pills.
He opened another drawer.
Then my closet.
Finally his phone buzzed.
He answered.
“What?”
Whatever the caller said irritated him.
“No. Sophia's at school.”
My heart seemed to stop.
He thought I was at school.
Mom hadn't told him I was sick.
That tiny omission was the only reason he was behaving so openly.
Ralph left my room.
I heard him return the backpack to the living room.
A minute later, the front door shut.
I remained under the bed.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Thirty.
I waited until the apartment had been silent for several minutes before crawling out.
My legs nearly folded when I stood.
The first thing I did was check the recording.
My thumb shook so badly that I opened the wrong screen twice.
Then the video played.
Ralph's shoes.
His gloves.
The backpack.
The bottle.
His voice.
“The pills came from Ellen's pharmacy.”
I sat on the floor.
It was there.
Proof.
I called Mom.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I called Valeria, knowing even before I did that her phone would be off during class.
Voicemail.
For one reckless moment, I considered running straight to her school.
Then I imagined Ralph returning.
He had keys.
He believed I wasn't home.
If he discovered me halfway down the block, or found out I'd seen him, the recording might disappear with my phone.
I needed another copy.
I emailed the video to myself.
Then to Mom.
The upload crawled across the screen while I stared at the progress bar.
Twenty percent.
Forty.
Seventy-three.
Done.
I sent one more copy to my friend Danielle.
Underneath it, I typed:
“If anything happens to me, show my mom.”
I almost deleted the sentence because it sounded dramatic.
Then I remembered Ralph's gloves.
I sent it.
For the next several hours, nothing happened.
That was almost worse.
I kept checking my phone.
No reply from Mom.
No reply from Valeria.
At 3:57, the house phone rang.
The sound made me jump.
I answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice asked, “Is this Mrs. Ellen?”
“No. I'm her daughter.”
There was a short pause.
“This is Lincoln High School. We need your mother to come here immediately.”
My grip tightened around the receiver.
“Why?”
Another pause.
Then the woman said, “Controlled substances were found in Valeria's backpack.”
I closed my eyes.
Ralph's plan had begun.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The School Thought It Had Caught My Sister, While I Was Holding the Only Evidence That Could Turn the Accusation Around
The Fever I Invented Kept Me Home Long Enough to Hear the One Conversation Ralph Never Expected Anyone Else to Hear
Part 2 of 26
