Story code: ST-001094
Part 3: The Backup File
We crawled through the post-school traffic, the SUV’s air conditioning humming loudly against the tense silence. Brenda’s knuckles remained white on the steering wheel, her eyes locked straight ahead. In the backseat, Connor’s whimpering quickly shifted into a demanding scowl. He kicked the back of my seat, sending a dull, rhythmic thud through my spine.
“Brenda, make them give it to me,” Connor demanded, his voice dropping the pathetic act. “You said if I broke mine, we could just say we sold it for Avery’s fees. You promised I’d get theirs!”
I glanced at Brenda. Her face had flushed a deep, blotchy red, but she refused to look at me or her son. She cleared her throat quickly, desperate to maintain control of the narrative. “Connor, sweetie, hush. Avery, you’re upsetting your brother. I don’t know what kind of stories you’re making up, but we are a family. We make sacrifices for each other. If you refuse to cooperate, I will have to talk to your father about your attitude. And we might have to reconsider helping you move into your dorm next semester.”
There it was. The leverage she always used. My father worked late hours and trusted Brenda implicitly with the household logistics. If Brenda told him I was being selfish and ungrateful, he would simply agree with her to keep the peace.
“I’m not making up stories, Brenda,” I said, my voice steady. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Two days ago, my car was parked in the driveway. It was facing the back of your SUV. Do you remember when Connor had that meltdown because you wouldn’t buy him those game upgrades?”
Brenda’s jaw tightened. She didn’t answer, but she tapped her fingers rapidly against the steering wheel.
“My car has a dual-facing dashcam,” I continued, unlocking my phone. “It’s motion-activated. It records in high-definition, both inside my cabin and out through the windshield. It captured everything.”
Connor stopped kicking my seat. The silence in the car became absolute.
“I have the video right here,” I said, holding the phone up so Brenda could see the thumbnail. It was a crystal-clear image of the SUV’s rear window. Through the glass, you could clearly see Connor’s face twisted in rage, his arm raised, and his fist descending onto his tablet screen. Right next to him, Brenda was visible in the driver’s seat, watching it happen.
Brenda’s eyes darted to the phone screen for a split second, and I saw the color drain from her face.
“That’s private family business,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “You have no right to record us.”
“I was recording my own driveway from my own car,” I said. “And right now, this video is backed up to my personal cloud drive. If you keep telling Mrs. Gable and the other parents that Connor ‘sacrificed’ his tablet for my education, I think they might find this footage very interesting. It shows exactly how that screen got shattered.”
Brenda pulled the SUV over to the curb, just past the school gates, and slammed the gear shift into park. She turned to me, her eyes wide with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Delete that, Avery. Delete it right now.”