White Smoke

by Tiffany D. Jackson

  “I’m sure they’ll get power any moment now,” Alec says, full of optimism. “Look, we can stand here and watch it happen! Like fireworks!”

  We wait and wait and wait and wait. Nothing. The trees seem to cave in, shadows growing around us, wind swirling leaves into the street. I glance up at Piper’s window and can’t shake the eerie feeling that we’re being watched.

  “Daddy, I’m cold.”

  Mom, playing with her cell phone, grumbles. “I can’t find the number to the electric company. It’s like they don’t exist. Oh, wait. No service? What the hell is going on?”

  Sharp thorns prickle down my back and I shudder. We need to get out of here.

  “Daddy,” Piper says, pointing down the street. “Someone’s coming.”

  Not just someone. Many someones. A steady storm of footsteps, heading our way.

  Alec frowns with a bemused chuckle. “Wonder what they want.”

  Mom stares for a moment before a light bulb clicks.

  “Everybody inside,” she orders, pushing us back toward the house. “Now. Let’s go!”

  “What’s happening?” Sammy asks as she pulls him down the walkway and up the stairs.

  “Inside! Hurry!”

  A crowd of people emerge from the darkness as they near the house.

  “Raquel,” Alec says, oblivious as usual. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aye!” a voice barks behind us, and we freeze.

  Mr. Stampley stalks onto the grass, pointing a finger at the house. “Why you got power and we don’t!”

  The parade of neighbors that followed him spreads out, making a semicircle on the front lawn, faces contorted in scowls, the air charged and hostile.

  Alec, genuinely confused by their presence, shrugs. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask Cedarville Electric.”

  Mom, standing in front of us on the porch, discreetly dials 911. Still no service.

  “Shit,” she mumbles.

  “Oh I see, so you think you having power in your new fancy home makes you better than us!”

  “Fancy?” Alec chuckles. “Have you seen this block?”

  Someone gasps, the outrage visceral.

  “So the Wood ain’t good enough for you?” a man yells.

  Curses are thrown, steaming-hot burns. In the far back, Yusef is standing in the street, seeming puzzled by the sheer size of the crowd. We catch eyes and he shakes his head, disappointed in our neighbors. Neighbors I recognize from my runs, school, and the library. People who know us but seem hungry to attack.

  “What, you don’t like living with Black people?”

  “He didn’t say that!” Mom snaps, stepping down to join him on the bottom step. I glance at Piper, standing beside Sammy, shivering in the cold. She peers over her shoulder into the house, as if she’s waiting for someone to come out.

  “Ain’t nobody asked you, sis,” a younger woman shouts, neck rolling. “And you need to watch it with that one! He’s been trying to get with every female he come across.”

  “What?” Alec shouts. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s true,” another woman says. “I’ve seen him spitting game to all the sisters at the office. That man’s a flirt!”

  Alec turns to Mom. “This is ridiculous. I’m not flirting with anyone!”

  Mom gives him a curt nod. She believes him. And honestly, I do too. Alec seems too stupid to cheat.

  “He probably not going after no females,” Mr. Stampley says. “Too busy going around stealing people’s stuff from they houses!”

  The crowd roars with agreement.

  “We told you before,” Mom says in an even tone. “We don’t know how your belongings ended up on our porch.”

  “Maybe your boy took them!” a man yells, pointing at Sammy. “I see him walking that dog around!”

  “That’s what people do,” Alec snaps back. “They walk dogs!”

  A woman shouts, “Then they got their little girl trying to get the kids to come play with her in them abandoned houses.”

  Piper takes in a sharp breath, flinching, grabbing hold of Sammy’s arm, then quickly lets go.

  “Yeah, they all been hanging out in them houses. That older one be smoking up in there too.”

  I stiffen at the reference, my legs going numb.

  “Mmhhmmm. You know she got a problem,” someone snorts. “Been to rehab and everything!”

  Tears pool, the shame instant and cutting. Sammy steps near, gripping my hand tight. Mom glances back at me, hurt in her eyes. Hurt for me. I know she didn’t tell anyone. So, how do they know?

  “Yup. I’ve seen her sneaking into that house on the corner,” another man shouts, another nameless face.

  The secret garden. Crap! How could I have been so stupid to think no one would notice. Deny deny deny . . . no one has proof.

  Yusef frowns, watching the comments ping-pong around the crowd before meeting my gaze. I shake my head, mouthing, “It’s not true.”

  Yusef only stares back, face void of emotion.

  “Yup. She still got that monkey on her back,” someone cackles.

  The crowd laughs and it’s several gut punches, the wind knocking out of me each time.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper to Sammy, knowing how much of an embarrassment I am to him. To my whole family. Mom takes the stairs two at a time, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

  “Come on, baby,” she whispers. “We don’t have to listen to this.”

  “Hey!” Alec barks, stepping off the stairs. “You leave her out of this! You have no right to talk about her that way. She’s a kid!”

  I’ve never seen Alec defend me about anything. It’s almost comically relieving.

  “Look, I work for Mr. Sterling,” Alec says, pulling out his cell. “I can give him a call and ask about the power. But I’m just like you! I have no idea what’s going on. I’m not in charge here!”

  “Damn right you’re not. You didn’t even pay for this house,” Mr. Stampley snaps. “You living here free, acting like you better than us!”

  “Yeah!” the rest shout with agreement. How freaking dare they come at us when they’ve done so much worse! They burned a family alive! Or, well, their families did. Most of them are probably dead. I look next door, to the boarded-up house with the bodies inside and gulp. As if reading my thoughts, Yusef shakes his head, warning me. And he’s right, they may kill us for even knowing about the Peoples family.

  The angry crowd is tightening, shifting closer to the house. It’s a mob, my panic mind starts to process, glancing at the house next door again.

  We could end up just like them.

  If I run inside now, I could grab the van keys, and we may have less than five seconds to make it to the car.

  Then, without even a sound, the streetlights spring to life on the sidewalk, one by one, startling the crowd.

  “There! See, the power is back,” Alec snaps, pointing down the road. “Now would you get off my property and stop harassing my family? Please!”

  After some grumblings, the crowd begins to disperse, receding into the street, heading home without one apology. Mom exhales the breath she’d been holding as Piper races down the steps, hopping into Alec’s arms.

  Yusef looks on before stuffing his fists into his pockets and follows the crowd. And in the distance, tucked in the shadows, Mr. Watson quickly hops into a truck on the corner. A truck I recognize because it’s been parked on our block for several nights.

  Twenty-One

  BEFORE SUNRISE, I throw on my running gear and slip out the front door, relieved to see the lawn empty. It hurt, having my worst mistakes used as punch lines by strangers, embarrassing my family all over again. We only have four days left in this place, and I don’t want to give these people a reason to keep me. I have to move the pots somewhere and destroy any evidence I step foot in the secret garden. Should’ve done this sooner, like after watching Erika get dragged away. Guess I was too . . . desperate. But weed isn’t worth spending my life in prison
with the rest of Maplewood.

  Through the overgrown path, I push aside the door and duck under the tarp, coming face-to-face with a man standing in the middle of the kitchen.

  Yusef.

  “Shit,” I gasp, gripping my heart. “Dude, don’t you think I’ve been scared enough?! What are you doing here? How did you . . . ?”

  Yusef touches one of the blooming buds, his face stoic.

  “So is that what you’ve been using my tools for? My fertilizer? You’ve been growing this shit!”

  Crap.

  “Um, well . . . I just—”

  “You lied to me,” he hisses.

  A part of me wants to tell him to mind his business. That he had no right to come barging in like he owned the place. He didn’t even stand up for me when the entire neighborhood dragged me for filth. But another part of me wants him to scream louder, tear me apart, because I deserve it. I deserve all his heat and rage. For this and many other things.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble.

  “Get rid of it,” he snaps.

  That was my plan all along. But one look at the budding pots, my proud work of art, and I have second thoughts.

  “But it’s so close. It’s almost ready to be harvested. Yusef, I’m not a dealer or anything. This just . . . really helps me. And, well, you give Erika a pass!”

  “Are you fucking serious right now? You trying to compare yourself to E?”

  I wince, brain not functioning enough to know not to bring up such a sore spot. Desperate, I try another angle.

  “Okay, but maybe we . . . together . . . can make a little money and . . .”

  The look on his face stops me cold. His eyes narrow, jaw clenching.

  “You know what, Cali, you actually belong up in Big Ville. You so thirsty for this shit that you don’t even see what’s going on right in front of you! How we all are hurting! No wonder everyone calling you a junkie. And they right. The way you be scheming on everybody, even your own family. Who could trust someone like you?”

  His sharp ice pick pokes right through my chest.

  “Yusef,” I breathe, fighting back tears.

  He pinches the bridge of his noise and huffs. “I ain’t no snitch. That’s not me. But if you don’t get rid of this shit, I’m turning your ass in myself. And I won’t give a fuck what happens to you after that.”

  It’s hard to put into words what it’s like throwing perfectly good cannabis plants into a compost bin. It’s like a starving child forced to throw away fresh food. There was no way to burn it without drawing attention to the scent, and it was too risky leaving it in a regular trash can for someone to find. Mom’s compost bin was the safest place.

  I uprooted the plants, ripping them from the pots with tears in my eyes. Not because of the loss, which should have broken me after all the work I put in. It was the combination of . . . everything.

  Junkie. The word had such a cruel bone-deep meaning, leaving no room for understanding or compassion. No one knows why I am this way. They’re not even interested in knowing. They just see the surface and that’s enough for them. But of all people, I never thought Yusef would be so shallow. He knows me, more than anyone around here. Can’t believe he could be just as cruel.

  My muscles ache for a long run. The kind that could have me lapping this entire city, twice. I’m not ready to face any of my neighbors, but without weed, a run is my only outlet. So after school, I blast my music, keep my eyes focused, pretending I’m in the middle of a race and that every person I fly by is a tree. I push myself, harder and harder, breathing through the intense stares, pain, and tears. I would’ve kept running, if Tamara didn’t call.

  “Dude,” I pant, slowing to a stop at the edge of the park. “My life sucks for so many reasons.”

  I explain everything, full-on diarrhea of the mouth about the house, Piper, Erika, Yusef . . . no detail left unturned. She listens in silence, then chuckles.

  “He’s right.”

  “Damn, not you too,” I groan.

  “You’re my girl and I love you but . . . you can be a self-centered asshole sometimes,” she says, in a sorry-not-sorry kind of way. “Like, do you even notice you only call when you need something? Seriously, when’s the last time you asked what’s going on with me? Everything seems to be happening to you, as if you didn’t have a part in it.”

  I open my mouth, but once again come up empty with excuses. It’s what happens when you haven’t slept in a week.

  “And I told you before, put yourself in Piper’s shoes for a change,” she says. “If you were her, and your new sister did something hella shitty to you, what would you want?”

  I sigh. “An apology.”

  “Right. So how about you start there!”

  Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.

  “But that’s not why I called you,” she says, brightening. “You don’t need to grow your own shit anymore. You’re about to be saved!”

  “Huh?”

  “I just read they actually legalized recreational marijuana statewide last year. Cedarville has just been waiting to hand out licenses for dispensaries. One was finally approved and it’s a national chain!”

  “Are you serious?” I gasp, a smile blooming.

  “Yeah. Sending you the article.”

  City leaders have approved its first dispensary license to Good Crop Inc, allowing Cedarville the opportunity to participate in an industry that’s estimated to yield $5 billion in annual sales. Good Crop currently operates dispensaries in Arizona, Connecticut, California, Florida, Maine, Maryland, New Jersey, Nevada, and New York.

  CEO Nathan Kruger says, “We’re excited about bringing new jobs to the city of Cedarville!”

  “Dude,” I groan, closing my eyes.

  “What?”

  “Please tell me Nathan Kruger isn’t related to Eden Kruger in some way, right?”

  Tamara goes quiet, typing hectically before muttering an “Oh. Fuck.”

  —Eden Kruger, philanthropist

  Daughter of Scott Clark, magic seed scammer. Also, married to Nathan Kruger, weed pusher.

  Back at the house, Mom waves from the car pulling out of the driveway and I find Sammy in the kitchen.

  “Hey, where’s Mom off to?” I ask, grabbing a water out of the fridge.

  Sammy pops a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave and shrugs.

  “Some meeting with the Foundation people. She was waiting for you to come home first. Piper’s upstairs.”

  I lean in close and whisper, “Did you check the cameras yet?”

  “Not yet. Was waiting until the coast was clear. Plus, I haven’t had my snack yet!”

  Right. After-school oatmeal was top priority.

  “Okay, I’ll grab them while you eat. Cool?”

  “Cool,” he grins as the timer dings.

  Shedding my sweaty shirt, I run upstairs to change and just as I reach the top, my bare foot lands on a nail.

  “Ow!” I scream, gripping the banister to keep from falling, hopping on one foot, the pain blinding.

  “You okay?” Sammy calls.

  I manage to sit on the top step, propping my foot up to inspect the damage. No blood drawn, only a deep imprint left. Thank God. Last thing I need is a trip to the ER. I search for the culprit and there, a few steps down, is not a nail but a tiny beige pebble.

  “Ugh,” I groan, reaching down to grab it. “This is why Mom says no shoes in the house!”

  The pebble pricks my thumb as I hold it between my fingers and upon closer inspection . . . I blink twice, eye twitching. It’s not a pebble either, it’s a tooth.

  “What . . . the fuck,” I mumble.

  The tooth is sharp, yellow, blood dried black flaking on the bottom. Sammy’s already lost all his baby teeth. Only person left would be Piper.

  I knock on her doorframe. “Hey.”

  Sitting on the bed, Piper meticulously folds her laundry, taking her time to make each shirt a crisp square, then adding it to a neat pile. Just li
ke a little old lady would.

  The tooth, sitting in my palm . . . it’s too large and worn down to be a kid’s tooth. But where did it come from?

  “Daddy says you’re leaving,” she sneers without looking up.

  Quickly, I shove the tooth in my pocket.

  “Um, yeah. Guess you’re getting what you wanted after all.”

  Lips pressed together, she lifts her chin and shrugs. “Well . . . good.”

  Thinking of Tamara, I suck up my pride.

  “So look, I just wanna say, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. About you being a pawn. And for what I did . . . when I was high.”

  Piper’s head snaps in my direction. I’ve surprised her. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, so I keep going.

  “Back then, that had nothing to do with you and it had everything to do with me. You and your dad, you were just meeting me in a different time in my life. But I’ve changed, whether you believe me or not. Just hoping we could, you know, have a sort of truce these last few days.”

  She frowns. “What’s that?”

  “It’s like when you agree to stop fighting and arguing for a certain period of time. So can we do that? Have peace for the next four days?”

  Piper mulls it over. “And then . . . you’ll leave?”

  “Yup.”

  She hesitates, nibbling on her lip, then nods. “Oh. Okay.”

  Why does it feel like that’s not what she really wants?

  I’m about to ask when something clatters downstairs. I step into the hall.

  “Dude? What are you doing?”

  No answer. Just Buddy barking.

  “Sammy?” I call, taking the stairs slowly, trying to ignore the prickling in my stomach. I make the corner, the kitchen empty, a cup of water spilled on the counter, knocked over. A fresh wave of panic covers my bones in ice.

  Shit. Where’s Sammy?

  Instinctively, I glance at the basement door, still shut. Buddy barks wildly, prancing by the table. Something moves; a squeaking fills the air. I stagger toward Buddy, gulping, and find Sammy sprawled out on the floor behind the kitchen isle.