Chapter 9. Thin Walls

Silas

My father didn't call about the photo. He sent Dom.

"He wants to know," Dom said, leaning in the doorway of the locker room, "why his son is famous on the internet for standing under a girl's window at two in the morning."

I yanked my practice jersey over my head. "Tell him I'm doing my job."

"He said invisible, Si."

"I was invisible. Until someone took a picture from the trees."

That shut him up.

Dom was twenty-five, three years older than me, an assistant coach on paper and Tessa Marlowe's shadow in real life. He'd been my best friend since I was nine and the only person I knew who could look at me in a bad mood and laugh about it. He wasn't laughing now.

"From the trees," he repeated.

"End of her street. Low angle. Behind the Hendersons' fence." I laced my skates harder than I needed to. "Somebody stood th