Chapter 2

Sean messaged her at 10:06 p.m.

“Can we Truce-talk?”

Cameron ground her teeth and glared at the wall to the left of her bedroom door. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since climbing the stairs to the 2nd level this afternoon, and didn’t want to talk to him now. “Eff off,” she muttered angrily and typed: “I have nothing to say to you. Leave me alone.”

She hesitated 5 seconds, and then sent the text. Sean responded almost immediately.

“Stop being mad at me. It’s not my fault how I feel.”

Well, it sure as hell isn’t my fault! she thought hotly. “Leave me alone!” she typed again.

Her mood ruined, Cam tossed the iPad on the mattress beside her and twisted angrily against her stacked pillows. She drew up her knees and wrapped them with her arms. Sean was suck a fucking asshole! She still couldn’t believe she’d said yes when he’d brought up the question of her posing topless for this dude two weeks ago. He’d hit her just inside the front door, just like today.

“Hey, Stuff!”

“Don’t call me that,” she’d griped, shutting the front door. “I hate it almost as much as I hate you.” She glanced at the keypad as she always did, coming home, and ignored it since Sean was home. It was Wednesday, November 24, and she was 15 years old that day.

“Happy birthday, Cam!”

“Eff you,” she muttered, eying him suspiciously. Knowing her brother, the next words out of his mouth would have something to do with taking her over his knee for 16 good hard spanks on her bare rear end.

He laughed. “I’ve got a question for you, birthday girl.”

She tightened, grasping her backpack strap with both hands. Here it comes.

“It ain’t what you think, Cam.”

“How do you know what I think? You don’t know what I think, doofus.”

He grinned wolfishly, then surprised her by saying: “Can we do Truce-mode?”

Cameron blinked. Truce-mode usually meant she or him was in trouble. Was she in trouble? She hadn’t done anything sneaky lately. Slowly, she nodded.

He offered her a Diet Coke. Taking it unwillingly, she tapped the lid with her fingernail and cracked it open. He hadn’t shook it up, at least.

“I got a really strange email last night. From someone I don’t know.” He cracked open his own Diet Coke. He was the only boy she knew that drank diet soda. “It came through Hide Me dot com. You know what that is?”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s a website that let’s you send messages and emails anonymously. The instant I read it, I knew why.” He grinned wryly. “The email had to do with you.”

Cam tightened her grip on the backpack strap. She canted her head questioningly, not liking this conversation one bit. “What did he want?”

Sean’s grin tightened. “He wanted to know if you’d pose topless for him for $250. Actually—” “What?” she blurted, shocked.

He raised his left hand defensively. “$250 for 10 pictures of you posing topless. At least 4 with you standing sideways to the camera, so that your—” He wisely stopped as she turned a furious red.

“You are such an asshole!” she yelled, storming past him toward the stairs. She had to go pee, was already fighting the urge to squirm. She should have gone before leaving school. Fucking tiny bladder!

“This is for real, Cam. He’s offering you $250.”

“I don’t care, and you’re lying anyway, asshole!”

“Truce-mode, remember?”

Cam halted before the stairs. Truce-mode included a promise not to lie to each other while in Truce-mode—ever. It was the hardest provision to stick to in Truce-mode because teen girls lied religiously, especially to family members. She always lied to Sean.

She grudgingly turned around. “Truth?”

“Truth. Cross my heart, Cam.” He did, sitting his Diet Coke on the end table next to Dad’s chair. “I was pissed. I told him you weren’t even 15 till today, and it was illegal, to boot. It’s probably a crime to even ask me to ask you. Sure as hell it’s a crime for me to take pics of you topless and send them to some asshole over the Internet. You’re underage.”

“So are you,” she pointed out.

He grinned, wryly. “It’s not me he wants pictures of, though, is it.”

Cam stared at him uncertainly, grasping the strap of her backpack with her left hand. She took a sip of Diet Coke, fighting not to squirm. She had to pee so bad!

“How would this even work?” she questioned. “Payment, I mean. Not that I’m agreeing to anything he wants. And how do you know it’s not a set-up, Sean? One of your friends fucking with you?” One of your friends wanting to see me topless, she didn’t add. “How do you know it’s not the cops?”