I asked him what he meant, as if the sentence wasn’t simple enough for a fourth grader to comprehend. He wouldn’t elaborate—or couldn’t, through the tears—and instead just kept telling me I needed to get to his house. I was already in my car and speeding down the highway before Noah got the tears under control, but by then, it was my heart that I couldn’t manage to rein in. It pounded against my ribs, as if trying to break free from a prison. This couldn’t be healthy. I forced myself to take some deep breaths, but they came up short, my lungs barely filling with air.

I pulled into his driveway, tires screeching on the pavement, and hurried up the stairs to his townhouse. The door was open, and Noah and his neighbor, Robby, were sitting on the couch together. Robby had an arm around Noah’s shoulder, but the second I walked in, Noah leaped up from the couch and ran into my arms, burying his wet face into my chest.

“What’s going on? What happened?” I asked, holding Noah before he took a step back. I looked him up and down, searching for any signs that he was hurt and finding none.

That’s when Noah took out his phone and handed it to me, showing me the message that had come through.

I read it once and felt my stomach do a somersault. The blood drained from my body, pooling in my extremities, fueling my muscles to bolt. This was beyond scary. This was worst-case scenario, a bullseye painted in crimson red directly on my forehead, trailing down into my eyes. All I saw was red, coming from a mixture of fear and anger. I wasn’t sure which was more intense.

“This needs to stop,” I said, as if that would make a genie blink his eyes and make everything better again. “This needs to end.”

“It won’t,” Noah said through rogue tears. “Not until they get their way.”

Robby rubbed Noah’s arm, looking at me with his eyes wide. He was likely counting his lucky stars things had ended between him and Noah, or the target could have been painted on him instead. But then Noah and I would never have crossed paths the way we did, and for that, I counted every single lucky star in orbit. I wouldn’t trade what Noah and I had for the world, even if that was for a world where someone didn’t want me dead and in a ditch.

“I won’t let them get their way. It’s going to be okay, Noah. It will.” I held Noah’s hand in mine, squeezing it, trying to impart some kind of strength or comfort, even though I didn’t have a shred of either of those things in my body.