Who Needs Traitors when You've Got Maps?

Scott's POV

It was already evening by the time I returned home. I noticed that all three of them—Wyatt Zimmerman, Queenie Jackson, and Yvonne Lambert—were sitting in the living room, each holding a bag of popcorn as they watched a movie.

Wyatt looked over when I came back, then shot the two people beside him a smug look.

"I told you Scott would make it home before 7:00 pm! You two lost, so I get to decide what you're doing for the next month! You're almost done with your papers anyway, so missing a few extra days of school isn't going to hurt."

Queenie scoffed. "Did you team up with Wyatt to mess with us, Scott? You took four hours to get home from the shopping mall last time! How did you make it back in less than two hours today?"

Queenie was the foster sister I had taken in when I was young. Her parents divorced when she was in second grade, and neither of them wanted custody of her. I had always wanted a younger sister, so once I had confirmed several times that her mother really didn't want her, I brought Queenie home.

Dad didn't go along with it and tried hard to talk me out of it. "Queenie is a living person, not some stray kitten or puppy. You can't just pick her up and bring her home, Scott."

Queenie promised Dad back then, saying she would definitely become my well-behaved younger sister.

Dad took pity on Queenie because she couldn't even get a decent hot meal, so he reluctantly agreed to take her in.

Yet, despite that promise, Queenie became Wyatt's well-behaved younger sister instead.

"You'd better come clean with us, Scott. Did Wyatt secretly leave some kind of marker for you?" Yvonne asked.

She was my upstairs neighbor and childhood friend.

Our families had this running joke about an arranged marriage between us back when we were children—and Yvonne actually took it seriously.

She knew I had no sense of direction, so she would always wait for me after school and walk home with me.

Before Wyatt came into our lives, Yvonne and I had spent ten years walking home together, hand in hand, from first grade through my sophomore year of high school. She had even said, "You'll always find your way home as long as I'm by your side, Scott."

Yet, later on, Yvonne became the one who left me behind time and time again.

Wyatt placed my phone on the coffee table and said, "I knew you two would try to make excuses, so I went ahead and grabbed Scott's phone ahead of time. You're going to accept the results now, right?"

Queenie's smile faltered. "Why wouldn't you discuss something this big with us in advance?"

Yvonne's expression hardened as well. "What if something had actually happened to Scott? How would we get hold of him if you took his phone?"

Wyatt was totally bewildered. "What's going on with you two? Didn't we agree to run this special training for Scott together? How could you stab me in the back now?"

Queenie hesitated for a second before adding, "Scott got home safely in the end, so we'll let it slide this time. You shouldn't mess around and take his phone behind his back again, Wyatt."

Yvonne was silent for a moment before coming over and taking my hand. She checked me over to make sure I was fine, then sighed in relief.

"Wyatt meant well, so don't hold it against him, Scott. Queenie left a bag of popcorn for you. I'll grab it for you, Scott."

I grabbed my phone and turned toward the bedroom. "I don't want it. I'm tired, so I'll just go back to my room and lie down."

Wyatt froze in place, turned back to Queenie, and asked, "Is Scott upset with me?"

He looked slightly embarrassed as he got up and headed for the door. "I should head home now. Scott probably doesn't want to see me right now…"

Yvonne followed Wyatt out. "It's pretty late, so I'll walk with you."

"I can take you home too," Queenie said as she quickly followed them, changing her shoes as they got ready to leave.

Yvonne reached out and nudged her back inside. "Oh, come on. Wyatt and I are going the same way, so I'll just walk back with him. You live here, so don't bother going out of your way, Queenie."

Queenie glared at her. "Oh, give me a break! You live upstairs, Yvonne! How exactly is that 'on the way'?"

I found the whole situation utterly ludicrous.

Yvonne and Queenie, both of my childhood friends, were practically fighting over who got to walk Wyatt back. They didn't even bother to ask how I actually made it home by myself without a phone, given my terrible sense of direction.