by AJ Summer
Jenna giggles next to me, and I wink at her. She seems to lose herself for a second, and just before that pinkish blush begins to spread over her cheeks, Mia yanks her away by her arm.
My eyes are starting to feel like someone emptied a bucket of sand into them. I go into the first shop I see. Which happens to be some kind of music and extreme sports place. The guy behind the counter with the black plugs in his ears and goatee looks out of place. Maybe he fits in with the drum kits in the corner or the skate boards on the right? But I wouldn’t peg him for the Speedo and swim caps in the middle of the store kind of guy.
He greets me with a terse nod, which I return equally uninterested. I walk toward the middle of the shop to the rack holding the board shorts next to the Speedos and swim caps. I pick a black one in my size and grab a pair of flip flops from the rail next to it. See, shopping is easy for a guy. I don’t need to wander from shop to shop looking for the perfect pair of pants. They are going to get wet and wrinkled in any case, so why worry?
I pay the guy, and my drug money is spent. As I leave to wait for Mia and Jenna, my phone dings. It’s Pete. My finger hovers over the open button. When did text messages become evil? I shake my head and laugh at myself. I’m sure I look crazy to anyone watching. I press open.
Warehouse 14:00pm.
I look at the time, it’s 13:45. I scroll through my contacts and phone Jenna.
“Kyle?”
“Yeah babe, I need to go somewhere real quick. Where are you? I need to give you the keys.”
“Um, okay. We’re at the little boutique on the first floor,” she answers.
“Boutique? Isn’t that expensive?” I ask irritably. Mia better not waste the money.
“U-Uh, I was just showing Mia something. H-hold on,” she stutters.
I can hear Mia say something on the other side.
“Kyle, Mia wants to know where you are going.”
I should’ve known my nosey sister wouldn’t let it go without an explanation. I didn’t even think of an excuse.
“A buddy of mine needs help with something. I’m bringing your keys now,” I lie as best I can on short notice.
“That’s okay. If you won’t be long, you can use my car,” Jenna offers.
I want to say no. I really don’t want to be seen driving the little yellow bug alone. But the sooner I get there, the sooner I will be back. I also just lied and said I would be quick. I can’t change it now and say I don’t know when I’ll be back.
“Okay, text me when you’re done,” I say and end the call.
***
The deal was much the same as the previous night. This time Malachi didn’t give me any trouble. He even called me a kung fu monkey and gave me a friendly slap on the back. Maybe it was the shiner he was sporting or the scowl on my face that made for the friendlier reception.
With the exception of it being daytime, the duffel bag being a backpack, and the location being a library, everything else was the same. This time I handed the bag over, and I checked the bag they gave for the cash. I don’t know why we check it; nobody told me how much there is supposed to be. And we never counted it. I guess the guys know not to screw Pete over, just like Pete knows not to short change them on the product. I got paid immediately when we got back to the warehouse. The same amount as last night. I didn’t tell Pete not to text me again either. Now I’ve done two deals, and I wonder when I’m being upgraded to a bigger transaction. A few bags of weed didn’t really pay well.
Jenna sends the text message letting me know they’re done just as I pull into the mall parking lot. I park a few spaces away from the closest entrance. The drive over here didn’t really clear my head. I’m not in that deep. I can still get out. I just need to decide if I want to keep doing this. The risk isn’t really worth it for $40 a pop, but I’m not sure if Pete will just let me walk away once I deal the hard stuff. I rest my head on the steering wheel, and for the second time today, I have to remind myself why I’m doing this.
***
After we got home, Mia insisted we watch a movie to relax and unwind for school tomorrow. There is really no need to relax. School is practically over for the year. No one does any work the last week of the school year. The only reason we are still going is to keep up with the arrangements for the trip. So I think she just doesn’t want to watch this horror movie alone.
Mia comes back from the kitchen with a big bowl of popcorn and two sodas. Jenna isn’t back yet. She went over to her house to drop her parcels off and tell her parents she’s watching a movie with us. Mia puts the movie into the player and hands me the remote. Our lounge isn’t very big. We have two double-seaters and a single-seater with a broken armrest. I stretch out on the double-seater and throw the extra pillow over to Mia, who is lying on the other couch.
Somewhere during the opening previews I doze off, and I’m woken up by Jenna poking at my sneakers. I move my legs and sit up straight to give her some space. What I didn’t expect was for her to sit so close to me. Her hand is almost touching mine. She sees me looking and stretches her little finger out to touch mine. And that is how it stays. Maybe I am a coward. I know Jenna wants to be with me, and I want to be with her. I probably shouldn’t even think about stuff like this, but I have nothing to offer this beautiful girl. The three of us have already applied and been accepted to the local college here, but I know Jenna’s parents aren’t happy about that. They don’t want her to go to college. They want her to go to a university. Somewhere more prestigious than our local college. But Jenna insists she’s not leaving home. Mia and I don’t have much choice. The education policy Dad had for us only covered school and college for a year, after that we have to pay our own way. So yes, I am not worthy of this girl, but damn my black heart for wanting her. I take her hand and turn it so the palm is facing up. She looks at me like I’ve just made her the happiest girl in the world. And she shouldn’t because I can only break her heart. I lift her hand up and place a soft kiss on her wrist. It smells of apples and something else, something even sweeter. Every time I smell apples I will think of her.
DAY FOUR
I lift the covers off my face when I hear my bedroom door open. My mom is an angel. I’m a grown kid, and she still brings Mia and me coffee in bed every morning when she wakes us up for school. She switches on the bedside lamp and puts the coffee down next to it.
“Good morning, Kyle. Time to get up,” she says while running her hand through my hair. I smile up at her because I love my mom, and if she wants to ruffle my hair like I’m five years old, she can damn well do it.
“Morning, Mom,” I say between yawns, “Thanks for the coffee.” Mom turns around and smiles at me before she leaves the room. I stretch out my sleepy limbs and get out of bed. We only have one bathroom, so I better check if Mia is done in there or I’m going to have to speed her up. I pick up my coffee, and suddenly my room is flooded in light.
“Good morning, big brother,” Mia sings from the door.
“Morning,” I say, sounding not in the least as chipper as she is. I grab my towel since Mia is already dressed and head down the hall to our small bathroom.
When I step into the passage, I hear him complaining from downstairs. He’s bitching about breakfast or something. I close the bathroom door and drown out his voice. One day Mom will realize she doesn’t need that piece of crap in her life. That day can’t come soon enough.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the small medicine cabinet above the basin. I still look like the same guy. Blue eyes, brown hair, nothing special, but I feel different. I feel older. I feel dangerous. I’ve dealt drugs, twice. Pete knows I’m going away for a week this Friday. He also said I’m done until I get back. There are no small deals happening for the rest of the week that I can go along for. I don’t see the point of sending me on any more small deals. I already know what to do, but with the three Chevy guys it was different. I felt comfortable, like they had my back. Just like I would look out for them if something went wrong. I
have no idea what to expect if I go alone or with someone else.
I don’t have time for a long shower but that’s okay. My mind is conflicted but I feel good. Mia gets to go on vacation. Mom’s got money that she hid away from him, to hold her over until we get back. And I held Jenna’s hand last night. Sounds like a wussy thing to say, considering I’m eighteen years old, but when you want someone as bad as I want Jenna and you know you can’t have her, it’s a pretty big deal.
I wrap the towel around my waist and grab my toothbrush.
I’m not a player. But there have been other girls. And I’ve always treated the girls I’ve been with with respect, and I’ve never flaunted a girl in front of Jenna. But now I can’t even remember the last time I had a date. My head seems to just notice Jenna lately.
After I'm dressed and I’ve checked my school bag, I head downstairs. Mia and Mom are sitting at the kitchen table discussing the trip. We leave on Friday morning. I already know Mia isn’t getting any sleep Thursday night. Thursday is also the last day of school, and I will officially be free from high school. Actually I was free from high school two weeks ago when I wrote my last exam, but after Thursday I’m officially free.
Mia kisses Mom on the cheek, and I shout a goodbye as I walk out the front door. Jenna is already waiting for us at her car. It’s the same thing we do every morning. When we were in junior school the three of walked together every morning. Since Jenna got her car, she’s driven us. It’s safe to say the first time I got into the car with her I was pretty damn nervous. Mia didn’t share my fears; she was squealing like a cheerleader on crack. I swear she bounced the springs in the front seat straight through the padding.
The trip to school is a five minute drive, and soon we are pulling into the student parking lot.
Mark is already waiting for me on the stairs. His head is down and looking at his cell phone. He is probably playing another online chess championship or something. I leave the girls at the car and walk up to him.
“How’s it going?” I ask him.
“Not good. This guy is always one move ahead of me. Just when I think I have him, he changes tactics,” he says, not lifting his head from the phone. I take a seat next to him. I don’t bother looking at the game on his phone even if I can see his fingers moving over the screen. I don’t know anything about chess.
I like more physical sports like cross country, but now that high school is over, I will have to find another way to stay in shape. And I always have the mixed martial arts classes at the community center twice a week.
I pat Mark on the back and leave for my homeroom. Mr. Rogers is my resident teacher, so it makes it easy to pay him the money for the trip. I’m glad I asked him for an extension. Even if I doubted I could pull it off, I still made it.
When I get to my class, everybody is already sitting at their desks, and the class is filled with excited voices as the other kids talk about the upcoming trip. Mia and Jenna are sitting in the back chatting to one of the other girls in the class. My seat is on the other side of the room, next to Mark’s, who is probably still sitting on the concrete stairs in front of the school. The energy in the room wraps around me like a warm blanket. It magnifies the little excitement I feel for the trip. Sun, a warm beach, and just being free for a whole week. What is better than that?
Mr. Rogers enters the class and walks to the front. The other kids in the room see him because it’s hard not to notice his big frame. Mr. Rogers is in his mid-fifties with a big belly and round glasses. His head has a shiny bald spot right in the center. He is the friendliest teacher in this school. He also runs the guidance group for the school with his wife, the Life Orientation teacher. He is always joking about how if she did a better job at teaching kids how to make better decisions, they wouldn’t have to work extra hours on counselling those same kids on how to fix their mistakes.
Mr. Rogers taps on his desk and clears his throat. Nothing happens, the kids just keep talking. He does it a couple more times before giving up and saying rather loudly, “Good morning, class. I trust you had a good weekend.” Some of the kids answer him, but it comes out as a lost murmur with everybody talking at once.
“Carry on doing what you were doing, but just do it quietly,” he says while pulling out a book from his drawer. He adjusts his glasses and settles down in his chair. I take this as my chance to go speak to him.
“Mr. Rogers?”
“Ah, Kyle. Mia tells me you have some good news,” he says smiling up at me. There are little lines crinkly around his eyes. It just makes his face look friendlier, more open, like you can trust him with whatever is wrong in your life.
“Yes sir,” I say, handing him the envelope.
He takes it from me and counts the money. Mia squeals from her seat, and when I turn around to look at her, she is high fiving (or is it high tenning?) Jenna and the other girl. I laugh at my sister and take our tickets and rules for the trip from Mr. Rogers. I walk straight to Mia’s desk and give them to her. She jumps out of her chair and throws her arms around my neck. I push her away immediately. What is she thinking? We are at school. I can’t let my sister gush all over me at school. I have to at least retain some of my bad-ass dignity. I’m not a trouble maker; in fact, I will set you straight if I see you are busy with shit on school property. But I did have a fight once two years ago, with Christopher Thorn. He was my best friend. That was, until he felt the need to put his hand under my sixteen-year-old sister’s skirt. I got suspended for a week for that fight. And I got kicked off the school’s mixed martial arts team. Coach was so angry with me. He said he couldn’t believe I would do something so stupid. Coach knew why I joined the team. My stepdad. Him. The reason why I had all this rage inside of me and couldn’t do a thing about it.
One night my stepdad came home drunk and started beating on my mom. It had happened before but never in front of us. I was thirteen at the time. He didn’t even punch me, just an open-handed slap. I remember the force behind that slap. It was filled with so much anger and resentment. I can’t remember what Mom did wrong that day. Maybe the food was cold or the floors weren’t clean enough. Or maybe he just had a crappy day at work. But when he slapped Mom and she fell to the floor, all I could think of was that I needed to stop him. So when he pulled his hand back to do it again, I jumped forward and threw myself between them. The force threw me off balance and I stumbled, almost falling over Mom. My eyes stung and my vision blurred. But Dad always told me “God gave you strength to protect women. If you hurt a woman with that strength, you are not a man.” So I straightened my back, wiped the tears from my eyes and took a protective stance in front of my mother. Mia was crying softly in a corner, where she was huddled into a tight ball. And all he did was laugh. He stood there and laughed at me. When he saw I wasn’t backing off, he walked up the stairs and slammed the door to their bedroom. That was the first night my sister started barring her bedroom door. I always sleep with my room door open. I need to hear if she calls for help.
Mom often slept in Mia’s room. They would push her dresser in front of the door so he couldn’t come in. Why not just lock it? Because the only key we have in that damn house is the front door key. One day he and Mom got into an argument, and she locked herself in the bathroom to get away from him. When we got home from school the next day, all the keys were gone.
The bell rang, indicating the end of home room, and all the students filed out to their different classes. My next class I also share with Mia and Jenna. It’s Creative English. Why did I take that class when I don’t have a creative cell in my body? The school’s wacked curriculum. I’m not really the maths or science type so I went with languages. What I am going to do with those in college I have no idea. But I’m sure to have a kick ass vocabulary.
I walk to the very last row and sit down next to Mia. Her seat is right in the middle of the room. If you drew an imaginary line straight down the middle, starting from the front of the class to the back of the class, somewhere your line will cross with
her nose.
***
The first truck we have to offload is an hour late. Pete is shouting on the phone demanding to know where his delivery is. I never wondered about what was in those parcels before. I always assumed it was stereos, car radios, TVs, exactly what it said it was on the box. Now, I wasn’t sure. Did those boxes contain drugs?
The big white truck finally crawls onto the loading bay, and we pull the trolleys toward it. When I pick up the box marked Smart Television, I take extra note of the weight. It doesn’t feel any different than all the other TV boxes I’ve offloaded. Pete shouts at me to move my ass, and I shake the fog out of my brain. I don’t want to get into Pete’s bad books, and he’s already in a bad mood.
It takes us two hours to offload the truck, and when I’m about to leave, it’s almost 9 o’clock. The green Chevy pulls up as I grab my school bag and push the door open. There are still some of the other workers hanging around, but none of them seem to know these guys. I give them a brief nod and walk in the direction of my house. The ding of my phone stops me on the corner, a block away from the warehouse. Ice fills the pit of my stomach. Pete said I didn’t have to work tonight. But I know the text is from him.
“Warehouse, now.”
I read the words three times before I turn around and head back in the direction I came.
***
It’s 3 a.m. on a school night, and I’m standing in the bathroom washing blood off my face. I knew something was wrong the second I got the text.
This deal was bigger, but it was also simpler. It was so simple a golden retriever could’ve pulled it off. All we had to do was drop the bag and come back. But when we got to the parking lot, things got a bit more complicated. It seems like the ex-girlfriend of the leader of the Chevy trio was now the current girlfriend of Danny Migelli. Yeah I know, the first name I’ve heard since I started this job. And Danny Migelli was the guy we had to give the bag to. I didn’t see what was so special about this girl. In fact, she looked way out of it. Her bleach blonde hair looked dirty and uncombed, and she had traces of black eyeliner left on her eyes. Like she hadn’t bothered washing her face or something. She was sitting in the open car door, wearing a red mini skirt, with her legs wide open, flashing the whole world her past, present, and future. She didn’t say anything, just let her eyes roam over us. Until her eyes met her ex-boyfriend and recognition kicked in. Mike. The second name I learned on this job. Technically, it would be the third because of the bouncer Malachi at the warehouse, who I really wished was here tonight. This chick starts swearing at Mike for leaving her alone at some club and she had to find her own way home without any money. Then she starts yelling about some dog, which makes Mike look like he wants to cry. And then the shit hits the fan. And I mean like really hits the fan, and there’s no way to dodge it.