He drives off down the road, splashing through several puddles along the way.
Now, to go kill Rainy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
From the outside, the pit seems empty. Broken windows bleed the darkness from within. Not a normal darkness, but one that warns you to stay away and screams danger. The street lamp illuminates the tears falling from the sky. I don’t know what happened to this shack of a house before we came to know it, but I’m sure evil deeds were once done here.
I would have just ridden my bike past the pit without looking twice. But since I know about the secret crawl space under the house, I prop my bike against the back of the house. The only place left to look for her is here. I’ve been to the park and the skate rink and the movie theatre. She has to be here.
I slide the glass door open. Although the air inside is dry, it is much colder than outside. I shiver. “Rainy, are you here?” My breath turns to fog.
I step into the house and walk to the hidden door in the floor usually covered with a heavy carpet. The carpet sits rolled-up in the corner, exposing the wooden door. I only hope that it’s Rainy down there and not some tweaker.
I stomp on the door. “Rainy?”
No answer.
Muffled voices sound from under my feet. Dread drains my body. I turn to tip-toe out of the house. A familiar laugh shakes the floor and my confidence fills back up. “Rainy?”
“In here,” Rainy says, her voice small.
The door squeaks and a stream of light and smoke billow from the open hole in the floor. Rainy peeks her head from the floor. “Oh, hey, dude. Whaaaaz uuuup?” She coughs and laughs. Not a true laugh, but a giggle that never ends.
“Are you kidding me? Please tell me you’re not stoned,” I say.
“Hahahaha…no way, baby. I ain’t stoned.”
A man’s voice says, “Yes she is.” And then laughs. Ace’s head pops up behind Rainy.
“What the hell? Are you seriously with this guy again? Isn’t he, like, old enough to be your dad or something?”
“No…no….no…” She burps a ridiculous laugh this time with snorts and mouth farts. “He’s snot. I mean, he’s not. He’s like…” She turns to face him. “Dude, how old are you?”
“Ha. I ain’t tellin.”
“Whatever. Come on Rainy. We need to go,” I say.
“Ace? Have you met my mom?” Rainy glares at me. “Mom, this is my new friend, Ace. He ain’t no tight ass like another friend of mine.” She grabs the beer out of Ace’s hand and takes a swig off it.
Nice. I swear I need new friends.
“Hi Mom.” Ace waves.
“I’m not your mom and I’m not a tight ass.” I take a step closer and kneel down. “I’m your friend, remember? This is just some older guy that doesn’t have a life of his own. What is he, like, twenty-five?” I lower my voice to a loud whisper just to be sure Ace doesn’t hear me, even though he seems oblivious to everything around him. “You know he’s probably going to want to have sex or something.”
Her blood-shot eyes squint at me.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out.
Her head rolls back then she jerks it forward. “Nah, I’m good.” Her breath reeks of beer. Ace rubs her shoulders. “See, he likes me. He’s my boyfriend now, so it’s all good.”
“Come on Rainy. Please?” Think, think, think. “I need you to walk me home ’cause it’s dark out. You know how I am about the dark.”
Her eyes light up. “Ace can drive us!”
Yeah, and kill us in the process. “I didn’t see his car out front. We’re just going to have to walk. Will you walk with me?”
“Dude. He’s just parked down the street.” She turns to face Ace again. “Are you gonna give us a ride or what?”
“Sure, sure, sure.” He rubs his face and yawns. “Yeah, I can give you pretty ladies a ride. No problemo.”
Be nice, take a breath. “That’s okay Ace. It’s very kind of you to offer. I know you’re tired and all so we won’t burden you. It’s not far.” I reach to help Rainy out of the hole. “Come on. I need you to walk with me.”
She pulls her arm from me so hard that she slaps herself in the face. “Ouch. Now look what you did.”
“You’re okay. Here—” I grab her by the other arm and pull. “—let me help you up.”
“Don’t touch me. I can do it without your help.” Her words slur together. She pulls herself out just to slip and fall, hitting her face on the ground, her body still in the hole. “I don’t wanna go. Ace?”
Ace’s eyes snap open. “Huh? What?” He finds Rainy. “Oh, yeah, what’s up baby?”
She points at me. “Tell her I don’t have to go.”
Ace climbs out of the hole. I take a step back.
Please God, help me. Please don’t let him hurt me.
“Listen, listen. Mom.” He staggers. “Rainy doesn’t need to go. She’s perfectly fine here.” Except he doesn’t pause between words and they are all drawn-out and long.
My stomach turns into shoe strings lit on fire. “No, Ace. She’s not. This place isn’t safe—especially with your drunk ass here. Her parents will ground her for life if she doesn’t come home. Right now.” I march forward, push Ace out of my way, and bend down to pull Rainy out of the hole.
She’s dead weight.
“You don’t push me.” Ace comes from behind and shoves my butt.
I fall forward, knocking Rainy back into the crawl space. She tumbles onto the dirt ground—out cold.
“She’s stayin’ here.” He stomps his foot and pushes my shoulder.
I jump back out of his reach. Think. There’s no way I can lift her out of the crawl space by myself. I’m going to have to get help, even if it means Rainy killing me in the morning. “Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up and take a step back.
He says, “That’s what I thought. You ain’t nothin’ but a chicken shit. You can’t even fight.”
“I don’t want to fight you, Ace. Besides, why would you want to fight a girl?” You big dork.
One eyebrow lifts on his forehead and now he takes a step back. “What? Nah, I don’t wanna fight no girl.” He trips over the carpet and lands on his backside.
“Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I’m just gonna—I’m just gonna close my eyes for one, for one minute.” He lays his head down on the carpet.
Good. Now I don’t have to worry about his creepy hands all over Rainy. She is so going to hear it from me tomorrow. Just to be sure that no strange transient or tweaker sees her down there, I close the door to the crawl space and pull the carpet from under Ace to cover it.
The shoe strings grow longer and hotter and push into my chest, burning my insides.
Rain pricks my face and eyes. If I ride my bike any faster, which is impossible, I might as well have a motorcycle. My wet hands grip the handle bars, numb from the cold air. My skirt is pretty much ruined. Did I mention that I’m going to kill her?
I ride past my house. Grams left the porch light on for me. I hope she’s not waiting up.
I drop my bike in the front grass of Rainy’s dark house and walk up to the door. Years ago, the door seemed huge. Now, it’s not so towering, only scary.
I reach to ring the bell and stop an inch away from the button. Life will change forever with one ring. No more secret hideout, no more skipping classes together, maybe even no more best friend. What if they ship her away like they did her brother? What if she hates me forever? I know she will, but it’s not my fault. I have no other choice.
I ring the bell. The door opens.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday, October 3rd
“JC!” A deep voice wakes Jacinda from oblivion. “Yo. Jacinda.”
Rays of gray light stab holes in the curtains. A giant man, like Big Foot, stands at the open door. Fuck. Jacinda’s head throbs, her stomach rumbles. Pictures shake on the walls from the music pounding from somewhere—probably from the next room.
“There’s an old
lady here asking for ya. She says she’s your mom.” Big Foot disappears and the door slams shut.
Ma? Oh, God. Fuck. I don’t even know where I am—how does she? The room spins. “Oh, shit—” Foam zips from Jacinda’s throat and out her mouth. She leans over the couch a little too late. The puke moistens what looks like another accident that had dried up on the couch. Gross.
Jacinda crawls off the couch on to the floor. Garbage and shit coat the ground. The scent of rotting garbage hits her and up comes another splatter to mess the floor. It’s clear this time, and burns her nostrils and throat. She gags, dry and hard.
The door opens again. Air wooshes onto her face. Ma, horror stricken, stands in the doorway. Fuck. Ma’s sad eyes fill with tears. She looks down at her daughter, helpless in a pile of garbage and bodily waste. Everyone always looks down at Jacinda. Fuckers.
“What are you doing here?” Jacinda says through gags.
Ma takes a small breath. Wipes the tears from her cheek and reaches for the Virginia Slims out of her grandma-bag on her shoulder. “I’m sure no one will mind if I smoke.” She lights up. Smoke plumes into the air.
“Can I have one of those?”
“Of course, dear.” Ma pulls another smoke out of the box and hands it to Jacinda along with a gold Zippo.
Jacinda recognizes this lighter. The name engraved on the side is a dead giveaway. “Pops,” she whispers.
“Yes, it was.” Ma looks around the dark room. “I have to talk with you. Clean yourself up, dear.”
“I can’t go anywhere right now, Ma. If you haven’t noticed, I’m sick as shit.” The smoke filling Jacinda’s lungs eases the wood peckers in her head, just taking the edge off. She needs a drink, something to kill the ever-metallic taste in her mouth. “How did you find me anyway?”
Ma clears her throat. “I have my ways. We need to talk.”
“I’m thirsty. You got a beer or somethin’? Get me a beer and we’ll talk.”
“Fine. Clean yourself up and meet me in the back yard. I need some air.”
***
Ma sits on a lawn chair next to a picnic table covered in more garbage on the patio. She clenches her beige sweater around her body and sucks a cigarette. Her sweater looks like the same one she wore when Jacinda was a kid. Ma would sit in the rocker in the front living room with her sweater wrapped tight around her small frame. She always had a smoke in one hand, coffee in the other, and a worry line in between her brows. Some shit never changes.
After Jacinda got knocked-up, and the brat popped out, Ma would stay awake for days, waiting for her daughter to walk through the door to tell her she was fine. She’d let her sleep it off in her old bed. But that’s about all she’d let Jacinda do—sleep it off.
Now, the sweater is all patched up and missing a top button and shit. The worry lines on her face are more like canyons than lines. She coughs and takes a sip of whatever’s in the Starbuck’s cup she’s holding. Probably coffee, black. Its heat races into the air.
Jacinda wonders if the sweater still has the same smell: Avon perfume, coffee and nicotine. “Where’s that beer?” Jacinda steps from the house into the bright, cold air and sits in the other chair next to the table. The sun nearly blinds her.
Ma pulls a paper bag squished around a forty from her giant purse and sets it on the table. “I came prepared.”
Ah, Ma. Always thinkin ahead. “Give me one of those.” Jacinda reaches for Ma’s smokes.
“Here, I brought you your own.” Ma hands her an entire carton.
“Cool.” It must be Christmas. Jacinda rips the carton open. The packs fall onto the table and she opens one, pulls out a single smoke and lights up with the Zippo.
Ma points to the lighter. “You be sure to give that back to me before I leave. Don’t worry, I won’t be here long.”
“Good ‘cause it’s as cold as fuck out here.” Jacinda wraps the blanket she stole from the room around her shoulders. It stinks like dead flesh.
Ma turns toward Jacinda. When did her eyes go gray? Her dark brown eyes have a film or some shit over them. The lids have no elastic, just flaps of leather that someone super glued around her eyes. “I had a dream last night,” Ma says.
Oh great. Now Ma’s gonna say Jacinda’s gonna die. Well, woopty-fuckin’-do. Jacinda don’t give a flying fuck if she’s gonna die. It’s not like she can stop it or nothin’. People die every stupid day. It’s about time her turn came along.
Ma crushes her cigarette out in the over-filled ashtray on the table and lights another. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it was about?”
Ma has dreams. And when she does, everyone stops their lives to listen ‘cause she dreams about people’s deaths and shit. She dreamt that her sister would die in the snow, and then her sister died in a freak snow storm the next month. Once, she dreamt that her fuckin’ brother would die in a plane crash, and then he died in a plane crash. The kicker about that is after hearing about her dream he wouldn’t even fly. The plane crashed into his car. Trippy shit. She also dreamt that Pops would die in the hospital at Christmas time, and then, he died of lung cancer in the hospital the very next Christmas.
“I know what the stupid dream’s about. Well, I hope I do die. So there. How do you like that?”
Ma’s wrinkles scrunch up around her eyes, the anger spills from the gray veil covering them. “It’s too bad you don’t appreciate how good you’ve had it. You think the world needs to cater to you. But, you know what? I’m done doing that. I love you so much.” Ma’s voice croaks. She coughs and clears it, sitting up straight. In a quieter voice, she says, “I love you. I’m sorry you can’t appreciate that. But, this is not about you this time, my dear. This is about your daughter. I had a dream about Autumn.”
“So, she gets to die then? Figures.” Jacinda grabs the beer out of the paper bag and twists the cap off. It’s nice and cold on her parched throat. So cold that she feels it slip all the way down her throat and into her stomach.
“So, how does she go? Does she get some fatal disease? Or maybe she jumps off a bridge and ends it herself?” Jacinda laughs at the shocked expression on Ma’s face. Priceless. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this shit. You took her away from me. Why should I care?”
Ma’s entire body shakes. Old age must do that to everyone. Or maybe she’s just angry. Ha! Ma, angry? That’s a riot. “Now, you listen to me.” She pounds her purple fist on the table. Oh, yeah. This ought to be good.
“Your daughter, my granddaughter, didn’t ask for a bad mom. She didn’t ask to be born to someone who doesn’t care for her.” Ma’s bluish finger points at the beginning of each sentence. “Autumn is a good person, whether you want to admit it or not. Just because you went and got knocked up by that man, does not mean that she is horrible. God gave you a gift damn it! Because you haven’t cared for her, now she’s being taken away.”
Jacinda chokes down another sip of beer and tries her best to hold in the stupid tears burning her eyes. “God did not give me a gift! I didn’t ask for her. It wasn’t my fault. Why does everyone always blame me?”
Ma coughs violently and spits onto the ground. “Well, I just thought you should know.” She looks defeated and tired. Ha. Jacinda won.
Ma says, “If you care to clean up your act, I’ll be happy to take you to rehab. Maybe you can get to know Autumn a little bit before she goes to be with God.” She stands, walks with her back hunched over to the gate, and then turns, as if she wants to say something but doesn’t. She leaves.
The pain wrenches through Jacinda’s entire body. Stupid life. Stupid Pastor Bob. Fuckin’ fucker. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tears sizzle down her face and her stomach seizes again. Hot beer pours out of her mouth.
CHAPTER NINE
“Well?” Caleb bends to stretch his hamstrings.
“What?” Evan asks. The sun has decided to shine this morning so they’re taking advantage of the dry air by adding another jog for the week.
“How did it go after you dropped me o
ff last night?”
“Oh.” A tingle tickles in Evan’s chest. “She’s great. We went for ice cream.” They trot down the trail to warm up. The sun may be out, but frost stings the air. Trees shed their vibrant leaves, making for a slick surface over the mud.
“You like her, don’t you?” Caleb punches Evan’s arm.
“That sounds more like a statement than a question.” The truth is Evan can’t get her out of his head. Her sweet and unsure disposition, her caring dark eyes and silky long brown hair, not to mention her long legs. He shrugs. “Yeah. She’s cool.”
“What church does she go to?”
“Does it matter?” It always comes down to that with Evan’s family. Every single time.
“Well, uh…” Caleb rubs his nose. “Normally, I would say yes, but I don’t think she goes to church. Both her and Rainy looked at us like we were freaks or something.”
“Yeah, but I don’t care about that right now,” Evan says.
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t.”
Caleb lifts half his face in a grimace.
Evan says, “They were both pretty nice. What did you think of Rainy? Do you like her?”
Caleb picks up the pace. “I don’t know. It was kind of awkward.” Caleb has zero luck with girls. His last date never returned his calls.
“Autumn said she would volunteer at the Share Home on Monday,” Evan says.
“She did? That’s weird.”
“Why?”
Caleb shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure she’s a nice girl.”
“You bet she’s a nice girl. How far we running today? You want to go ten miles round-trip?”
Caleb sucks in a gallon of air and then lets it leak out of his mouth in a controlled hiss. “Yeah. I was thinking maybe only three miles. I’m pretty beat this morning.”
“Sure.” It’s probably best since Caleb will bring up the whole church thing again.
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