A Dark Road

by Amanda Lance

  “There’s no excuse for hitting you.” As much as I wanted to examine his black eye, I was afraid he wouldn’t let me, so I let my hand linger in the dead air between us. In the low light, I could see how tender it must have been. And though I didn’t know much about him, I hated Frank. I decided I hated any person who could do that to someone as sweet as James. Yet my frustration was merging with that sense of helplessness that adolescents feel in situations like these. So, with few options under my belt, I went with the only one that really made any sense.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” My meager attempt to pull him along was doused almost immediately by his hand around my wrist.

  “We have to tell my parents.”

  The panic I saw in his eyes then reminded me of a fawn in high-beams. “N-no.”

  There was of course a multitude of things he could be afraid of. I could only imagine the trouble he might be in with the authorities, not to mention what he would do or where he would go if his dad went to jail. I fell back, but he didn’t let go of my wrist, and while I was waiting for the words, I closed my fingers between his.

  “That wasn’t a prop lab in there, was it, for the science center or something? I was really, really hoping it was.”

  He shook his head.

  “I want to lie, tell you that what I make doesn’t go to minors or hurt people.” He sighed. “But it does.”

  “I was there on Friday night. you know. My mom says Jenna is going to a rehabilitation center for awhile. First her, now you. I’m supposed to lose my friends all over again? If that’s the case, I’m making record time here.” The laugh at my expense was pretty pointless. I couldn’t even make myself smile.

  “I thought you hated me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I admitted “I’m worried about you.”

  “What? Y-you’re worried about m-me?”

  “Of course I am, James. Selling drugs puts you in all kinds of danger that I don’t even want to think about.”

  “Well, I don’t technically sell them—not really,” He corrected. “I’m just a supplier.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “No one has ever worried about me before.”

  “Do you—do you do them, too?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Never.”

  I nodded. It took me a good three minutes before I realized that somehow I had already known that. I had never thought about it before, but I could have guessed that Simon would use recreational drugs one day. Though I had only known him a couple of weeks, James just didn’t fit the archetype for a user. He was smart and miserable and was good at it. Without an external element, I could see him always being that way. On the other hand, ignorance was bliss, and isn’t that was drugs were for?

  “You don’t have to tell them about that, but you can’t just let your dad beat on you. We’ll tell my parents and maybe they’ll know—”

  “No.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You—we can’t tell anyone.”

  “James—”

  “Promise me, Hadley.”

  The one eye that wasn’t completely swollen shut looked darker under the shadows of the rising moon, and to me it almost looked black. What was he asking me to do here? By agreeing not to say anything, I was putting him at risk, just like Simon, by not telling anyone he was doing party drugs. Would my word be enough to keep them safe?

  “Only if you do something for me.”

  Silently, he waited, apprehensively clenching his fists.

  “Tell me everything.” I poked him hard enough in the chest to make him stumble. “And I do mean everything.”

  So we stood in the clearing and I waited like only a decent friend could. I sensed his nervousness was bad, because his lip twitched every time he began to speak. After the fourth stutter or so I looked away, thinking that if he felt a little less self-conscious, he might open up easier.

  “After my mom died, Frank went back to trucking. It was the job he had before I was born, but I don’t think he could stand to be around the house without Mom.” He picked up a piece of broken cornstalk and blew into it to make it whistle. “At least that’s my hypothesis. I don’t have the proper variables to test it. Anyway, he went back to trucking and the transition was rough. He wasn’t as young and losing Mom took its toll. I was only beginning to understand it at the time, but coffee wasn’t enough.”

  Could James possibly be saying what I thought he was saying? It was difficult to believe any parent could possibly tolerate, let alone encourage the taking of narcotics…then again, there were parents who pumped their kids full of antidepressants, stimulants, mood stabilizers, and all kinds of other junk. Just because they were prescription didn’t mean they weren’t just as dangerous,

  “Energy pills with ephedrine were good for a while. But then the FDA banned it in 2004. I started making amphetamines a couple of years later.”

  His voice was so casual, so complicit, it could have knocked me over. He spoke as if people made meth every day. After I had a nutritious breakfast of corn flakes, I brushed my teeth, then proceeded to cook up some tasty, illegal uppers…

  I sat on one of the small boulders sticking up from the ground and rubbed my temples. Now the plastic jumpsuit made sense, all of it did.

  I looked up at him. He was sitting on the ground next to me. I could see him clearly, thanks to the moon. And with his overbearing hair, his hood struggled to cover his face.

  “Frank was spending all of his money on biker meth and half the time he was getting sick from it. When he was home one day, I melted some of it and tried to figure it out. ” He shrugged at the memory. “Analyzing without any of the technology.

  “Then Frank got the idea for me to make it myself.” His enthusiasm came back. “It’s really easy, you know. There are so many recipes on the internet. I mixed and matched a few to create something of my own. The biggest trouble is gathering supplies inconspicuously. But Frank can get a lot of things on the road without being obvious…”

  As I listened to him ramble, I watched his eyes widen with the scope of thrill. He was passionate about the science of it, but not much else. James was in the middle of explaining the synthesis of the hydrogen reaction when I placed my hand on top of his.

  “James?”

  He gulped. “Yeah?”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Almost four years.”

  The clearing felt smaller than ever. How was it possible that he had kept this up for four years? I had a hard time keeping a secret for a few days, forget about a few years. I couldn’t imagine never having friends over, constantly making-up excuses, always looking over your shoulder, waiting for it to all come crashing down. It seemed like an impossible burden for an adult to face, let alone somebody our age. And didn’t gangs tend to do these kinds of things? James obviously meant it when he said he had no friends. If he was in this by himself, I couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely that was.

  “You’ve been doing meth since you were fourteen?”

  “I don’t do that stuff, Hadley, I just make it.”

  “Right. Sorry, my brain is overheating.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you trying to break my fingers?”

  I released his hand from mine and laughed nervously while I wiped the sweat off on my jeans. I didn’t realize how tightly I had been clutching him.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I looked up at him and brushed one of his crazed hairs from his eyes. With his eyes all wide like that, he truly looked like a mad scientist.

  “You’ve been making meth since you were fourteen.”

  “Yeah, I just started making the ecstasy last year. It’s been my side project. Frank doesn’t know about it. Just a couple of months and I’ll have enough saved up for anywhere I want to go.”

  “Wait.” Something vital was
n’t adding up here. “Enough money for school? What have you been doing with the money you’ve made over the last four years?” I looked over his shoulder in the direction of his house. It definitely wasn’t being invested there, or in his appearance, flashy cars, or those other clichés I had seen drug lords treat themselves to in the movies. But didn’t people spend an obscene amount of money on speed? Sell all their objects? Steal from loved ones? Pimp themselves out just to pay for their habit?

  James sighed, maybe it was just me, but waiting for an answer felt unacceptable. I shook my head and turned away from him. “Frank does a lot of distribution, so he collects a lot of the money. He keeps everything he collects. I only keep what I collect.”

  “You do all of the work, though.”

  James looked back at me with awe, or maybe it was disgust, it was hard to tell.

  “Well, you take the bigger risks, right? Frank buys supplies, but you’re with the chemicals all the time, which are a hazard to your health and illegal. You could do serious time if you get caught with a lot of that stuff. Frank’s truck can only be searched with probable cause, or permission from the trucking company, right? There isn’t much risk for him. You’re living full-time in the house where the drugs are being brewed. You should get the bigger share. At best it should be split 50/50.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Yeah?”

  I had no idea what he was going to say next. Actually, there was no expectation that he would even speak at all. But those were only words. Sometimes, actions speak much more loudly than anything we can ever say, or any shrug we can ever shrug. When he slammed his lips into mine, I knew he wasn’t just speaking to me, he was screaming to me.

  I closed my eyes and screamed back.

  We broke apart at the same time. In my head, I was stuttering and stumbling. Oddly enough, he sounded more stable than ever.

  “Sorry. I promise I won’t do that again.”

  I reminded myself to breathe. “W-why did you do that?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a chemically-induced hallucination.”

  “And?”

  He smiled. “I’m still not entirely sure”

  Chapter 34

  James

  We go to the clearing where the tent is set and Dog is waiting for us.

  “Dog!” She rushes to him, embracing his furry frame. “Are you okay, cuddle monster?” She looks beneath his ears before rubbing there and is promptly rewarded with a kiss, though I imagine it smells like kibble. I think it’s funny that it’s the second time someone has kissed her tonight. I wonder if she felt anything but disgust either time.

  “Does Frank hit him, too?”

  I sigh and sit next to them. Hurting someone physically requires motivation, even a little integrity, but Frank doesn’t have any of that. Of course, I can’t tell Hadley that, either. Just like I can’t tell her King Asshat throws a good punch. I will give everything to avoid seeing that look of worry on her face.

  I watch while she lays her head down next to Dog. Though his eyes are aware and his tail wags, he hasn’t lifted his head or moved any of his limbs. Nudging her nose with his, I think maybe she’s trying to feel if it’s cold and wet.

  “You know this isn’t okay, right?”

  “It’s only for a couple more months. In the spring I’ll be 18 and Dog and I can get a place of our own.”

  “I’m not just talking about that.”

  “I don’t plan on doing this forever, just until I have enough money and then I can quit and I’ll never have to think about any of it again.” Never thinking about meth again? Was that even a plateau I could reach?

  “Quitting while you’re ahead isn’t quitting.”

  I can’t believe how abrasive she’s being. Her change in tone tells me she’s angry but I don’t know what to do about it.

  “I can’t. Frank needs it, and the money will get me through college without debt.”

  She shakes her head. She acts like she’s dealing with a little kid. “If Frank hits you and takes advantage of your talent instead of nurturing it…” She runs her hands through her hair and sighs. When she does I can smell her strawberry shampoo and I want to bury my face in her hair. How can she be so beautiful even when she’s mad? How am I lucky enough to be with her right now? “You can live without the money, James,” she tells me. “It isn’t like air or water.”

  “Have you ever been in debt before, Hadley? I don’t think there’s much of a difference between that and jail.”

  She rolls her eyes, but still smiles. I take that as an ‘all clear.’ Still, she isn’t letting me off the hook.

  “Fair enough. But you’re better than this, you’re smart and there are scholarships…hell, you could write a memoir about being a meth cook and that can put you though school.”

  Dog and I both look up to see her smile. Not one of those ‘I’m better-than-you-up-the-social-food-chain smiles, but a smile that’s like she really means what she says. I want to smile back but my stomach is doing that thing again that it tends to do when she’s around and I’m getting anxious that if I do anything elaborate like grin, I might end up throwing up instead.

  “I hate all that book stuff so much, though.”

  She smiles wider. Christ, why does she have to do this to me? “What’s up with that, anyway? Grander says you don’t live up to your potential.”

  I shrug.

  Hadley rests her head against Dog’s stomach and laughs a little. “I swear, if you shrug for an answer one more time…”

  I think I might take my chances and shrug.

  She laughs but still throws her fists up in frustration.

  “Come in the tent.” I lift up the cover and Dog goes straight inside. He doesn’t seem to care that Hadley was using him as a pillow at all, but as her head hits the ground, she just laughs harder. “It’s cold out here.”

  She follows us inside and lies beside Dog. Not that she had much of a choice. As he stretched out, he takes up most of the tent. I offer her the thicker blanket and then put the other one around Dog.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  She uncoils herself and scoots closer to me, draping what was left of the blanket over me. “I’m not going to steal your blanket.”

  “I-I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do.” She turns her back to me and I do the same, each of us scooting a little closer until our backs are touching.

  “Are you going to be in school tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  Feeling her tense beside me, I know I have to fix it, explain myself, at least. There’s a strange joy at knowing someone is worrying about me, but I don’t want Hadley Grayson to be that person. “Frank should leave again in a couple of days, and I don’t want anyone asking questions about my face. Also, I have to cook so—”

  “James?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m bringing you your homework tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you’re going to do it, all of it, and you’re going to pass English.”

  “You get kind of scary when you’re bossy.”

  “You should see me with a sword.”

  Chapter 35

  Hadley

  James returned to school by the end of the week, blaming his absence on an imaginary illness. The bruises on his face were still somewhat visible and took the heat away from talk about Jenna. I ignored all of it as best I could and stuck to my new routine, which consisted of school, the animal shelter, and James. As long as I was scheduled to work at the shelter and brought home my grades, Mom stayed off my back and didn’t seem to mind that I spent so much time with the strange boy down the street.

  On Thursday night after Mom and Dad went to sleep, I dug out the heaviest coat I had and a polka-dotted scarf. It was weeks until it was technically winter, but it was already freezing. I had my flashlight and sneakers by the back door, more than prepared from the last several nights of sneaking out and back i
n just before dawn.

  Normally I arrived before him, but this time he was waiting for me in the clearing. I saw right away that the arrangement was more elaborate than my prior visits. A canopy tarp was draped above the tent and staked into the ground. It was easy to see that under the tent a thicker rubber tarp had been stretched out on the ground, and the mosquito net that originally served as the tent door was now replaced by a stronger wind shield.

  “What’s with the digs?”

  “Winter is almost here. I want to be ready for the worst of it.”

  I looked at the barrel he had laid out for garbage, the deck box (also covered by a tarp) and the poker laying out by the campfire. It looked like he was ready for a long stay. “You’re out here a lot more often than you should be, aren’t you?”

  “I used to stay in the house when I cooked, but it makes Dog’s allergies go haywire.”

  I shook my head, still somewhat amazed. “That can’t be good for either of you.”

  “It doesn’t matter much what happens to me. I’m just trying to get through.” I saw the dimple in his smile and felt my knees give way. “Any long term side effects I’ll deal with as they come along.”

  “It does matter what happens to you ,James…” In my head I saw James in jail, saw him in handcuffs and his dad hitting him. The tears that sprouted at my eyes stung, and though I tried to wipe at them before they fell, they did anyway. “It matters very much.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Have you ever considered what I would do without you in this crummy town?” My laugh was hollow and short, so I picked up Dog’s ball and threw it out to him, hoping the action would distract us both. “You need to make smarter choices.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Though covered with slobber, James took the ball from Dog when he offered it to him and patted him on the head. “Look at you, hanging out with a clandestine chemist.”

  “I’m serious, James.”

  “I am, too.”

  This time Dog brought the ball back to me and I threw it as far as my arm would let me. We watched as Dog disappeared into the field and leaned in a little closer to one another.