A Dark Road

by Amanda Lance

  “Hold on, Helen. Can’t we handle this situation…internally?”

  Mom shook her head, apparently Simon agreed. But neither of my parents spoke, and it prompted a slight hope inside of me that maybe they would do just that.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys—I know I should have, but by the time I knew anything for certain I had already given my word I wouldn’t say anything.” I feigned a smile. “You guys are big on the whole ‘keeping your word thing’.”

  “Nice try.” Dad sighed and handed the remainder of his glass to Mom. She had already finished hers. “You know there’s no excuse for this.”

  “I-I think love is a pretty good excuse.” And then I really tell them everything. Everything but the nights in the basement. As I explain my idea of James staying with us until college, Simon starts huffing and puffing like a dragon who’s run out of fire.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Simon looked back and forth between Mom and Dad, I think expecting an instant answer, but Mom must have taken to my desperate pleading because she just looked tired and sighed.

  “Will you guys go upstairs for a few minutes? Dad and I need to talk.”

  The panic flowed freely through me then. What had I done to us? What had I done to James? I should have called him to warn him, but with his lack of a phone there was no chance of that happening. Briefly, I considered sneaking back downstairs and out of the house, but Mom and Dad would probably be listening for me.

  I felt the tears come then, frantic, disturbing tears that came with silent sobs and visualizations of all of the things that could happen after my parents called the police. I cringed when I heard them coming upstairs.

  There are instances in your life when you look at your caregivers and try to imagine yourself in their shoes. And I don’t mean that figurative ‘Gee, what was it like to live in a world without the Internet’ imagery. There are real, specific instances where you put yourself in their place. And I could see myself as a woman in my early forties with two kids each tied to a chemist that was making illegal narcotics. What would I do if I was Mom and my twins were socializing with a drug dealer/supplier?

  Well, that wasn’t much of a question at all. So imagine my shock and amazement when Mom and Dad came in my room and said this:

  “Hadley.” Mom sighed and began straightening the books on my shelf. “We know this move has been difficult on you, and we admire and appreciate your cooperation with the transition.” I hated it when she did this. I wanted to shout, ‘I’m not a customer, Mom, I’m your kid!’ but of course I didn’t say that. Of course I kept my mouth shut.

  “Sometimes we make poor decisions and associate ourselves with people who may not necessarily—”

  Dad coughed to regain her attention, putting her back on course. “Obviously you care very much for this boy, and we want you to know that if he’s important to you, then he’s important to us.”

  What does that mean? They’ll take turns giving me a lift to visit him in prison?

  “That being said, we want you to understand that what we do now we are going to do because we love you and your brother very much. We don’t want you guys to make one or two stupid mistakes that ruin your lives with drugs—”

  “I know, Mom. I know.”

  Dad flexed his thumbs from his pockets and sighed. “We do remember what it’s like to be young, you know? But the laws are stricter now and it’s true it only takes one mistake to screw up everything.”

  “I love you guys but you’re killing me here. Will you please get to the point?”

  “Mistakes can happen…”

  They were pulling my teeth. “And…?”

  “Basically we want to hear it from the horse’s mouth.” Mom hated it when Dad finished her sentences, but I tried to imagine that when they were dating it was an endearing trait.

  “That’s right,” Mom said. “Before we do anything else, we’ll have a talk with McKay. After that, we’ll figure out what to do.”

  “If you call the police he’ll go to jail.”

  “Well, that is a possibility. But keep in mind you may not know him as well as you think you do, Hadley…”

  Dad intervened, once again saving the day. “Like we said, we’ll have a talk with him and his father and decide from there.”

  “What about his mother?” Mom asked suddenly.

  “She left years ago.” I was rushing, desperate to get them to see my side. At that point I might have said or done anything. “He doesn’t have any other family and I’m the only friend he’s had since grade school. Think about it, guys. What would you have done in his shoes?”

  Mom and Dad just kind of stared at each other.

  Mom wouldn’t let me go to James’ house alone. I hated the mere idea of our evening rendezvous being over, but I was willing to ignore that feeling for now in lieu of James.

  I had never noticed before how much faster it was to get to his house by car. Dad stayed silent as we drove there and parked a few yards from his rundown house. Since there was no driveway, I got the feeling Dad felt awkward about where to put the car, but he quickly resolved to park it near the scrap heaps. When he caught a solid look at the house from under his headlights he winced.

  “McKay lives here? This place doesn’t look fit for a dog.”

  Then I was reminded about Dog. I didn’t see the rig anywhere, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. For all I knew, James’ dad was watching us from one of the windows.

  When I went to knock on the door, I could smell it, the stench of chemicals and rotten eggs. Before my knuckles touched the door, James was answering it, the biohazard mask slipped just below his adorable neck.

  “Hi.” He looked back and forth between us both before looking back inside the house.

  “I broke my promise.”

  He smiled just enough for me to see the dimple and immediately went back to frowning.

  ***

  Back in the living room of our house, James and I sat on the small loveseat while Mom, Dad, and Simon sat on the sofa. Simon sat on the arm, higher than the rest of us, glaring down at us as if we were the scum of the earth itself.

  “So, what’s that story?” I had to hand this one to Dad; he was handling this like a pro. Father of the year nominations were definitely coming his way.

  James told them, through his stutter and all. He didn’t try to dig for pity like somebody else might have or focus on the negative; instead he held himself accountable for it. With each new piece of information, my parents looked at each other, occasionally sighing or wringing their hands together.

  What he was used to and the world my parents lived in were drastically different from one another, and you could see almost instantly that they didn’t connect.

  “Okay, James, are you hungry?”

  “Are you offering this delinquent food?”

  “Be quiet, Simon, or go upstairs. We already talked about this.”

  I took James by the hand before he could say anything else and led him into the kitchen. “We’ll be eating if you need us.”

  Before either one of us could say anything, I was in the pantry digging for Pop-Tarts. If anything was required in this situation, it was the warm reassurance of a Pop-Tart.

  “Hadley?”

  I had already begun ignoring him; singing in my head to keep out what I assumed would be the peals of police sirens any second.

  “What happens now?

  I stuck the Pop-Tarts in the toaster and waited for the magic to happen. “Well, they’ll deliberate and then they’ll take a vote and majority wins.”

  From the corner of my eye, he smiled. “Majority?”

  “Whatever my mom says.”

  He nodded. It was sinking in now for the both of us, why he was here and what our relationship had come to. James would probably go to jail for a long time. And though he might have been expecting it at some point or another, I hadn’t expected to be the source of his undoing.

  “I’m sorry, James.”
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  “It’s okay, Hadley.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Hadley, listen for a second. Some things are probably going to—”

  I put my hands over my ears like a small child and sang out loud to myself. I didn’t want to think about the next steps, about school without James, about James without freedom.

  “If I do go away, Hadley—”

  “Lalala, I’m not listening.”

  He pulled my hands away from my ears and smiled. He kissed one of my palms and gave it back to me. “You have to take care of Dog, okay? I don’t trust anyone else.”

  I nodded. This felt more like a good-bye than anything else. “I will.”

  Smoke erupted from the toaster-oven and I swore, but James laughed. I wondered briefly if he would let me bring him Pop-Tarts in prison.

  He humored me by biting into one anyway. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Yes, it is,” I argued. “It’s all very bad.”

  ***

  When Mom and Dad called us in a few minutes later, my heart was ready to melt.

  “We talked about it and we agree that all intentions aside, the authorities need to be contacted.”

  I flinched.

  “But,” Dad started, “I’d like to contact your father myself and call an attorney for you.”

  “Dad—”

  He held his hand up to stop me.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say thank you, young man and be grateful. A friend from college works with children’s advocacy. I’ll give him a call and ask him what he thinks.”

  Mom looked at me and shook her head. “It’s the most reasonable thing we can come up with. We’ll deal with the other stuff later.”

  “It sounds good to me.”

  “James?”

  “You were right all along. I was going to get caught or killed eventually. I might as well get it over with.

  I sat up and kicked the chair out from under me. “He quit. Q-U-I-T. Why do we have to go to the police? He’s knows it was wrong and won’t do it again. Doesn’t remorse count for anything?”

  “It does,” Dad said. “Which is why we’re helping at all.”

  “You shouldn’t even be doing that.” Simon stood in the doorway frowning at us all.

  James squeezed my hand before getting up himself. “I’m going to get Dog.”

  I told Mom and Dad about our agreement. “Well, if nothing else, we can do that.” At least Mom agreed on this one. I knew she was a dog person but who, after meeting Dog, couldn’t be a Dog person?

  Chapter 46

  James

  Was Hadley worrying about me yet?

  I leave Hadley’s house when her Mom is trying to talk down King Asshat and her Dad is on the phone with his lawyer friend. I follow the dark road back to my house as fast as I can, though it doesn’t really feel like my house anymore.

  I figure I’m going to jail. But that is okay, because we’ve already talked about it and Hadley says she’ll visit me. I know she’ll keep her word, and Dog will be okay. As long as she doesn’t hate me, I think it’ll be okay.

  I will be okay.

  But then there’s a car in my driveway I recognize but don’t want to. I see Ryan standing by the front door, and I see the metallic grip sticking out of the top of his jeans. Then I see Sam shaking. And I know they probably haven’t called Louie.

  So I walk up to them very, very slowly. As far as I can see, it is just them and I’m so glad Dog and Hadley aren’t around, and even Frank, because he would just be pissed beyond pissed.

  “Hey guys, w-what’s up?”

  They say they can’t get ahold of me, that I’ve been avoiding them, and that my ‘friend’ Louie charges too much. They need me, they say.

  “No.”

  “You can’t go cold on us, man!”

  “Yeah,” said Ryan in between heaves. “We’re dying here.”

  “Then go ahead and die. I’m not cooking anymore.”

  And then there was arguing and swearing all at once, though clearly capable of fist fighting, they are both going through withdrawal so badly that even I can take them. Yet even I can only dodge so many punches before Ryan jumps on my back and gets a decent grip on me. And I’m wishing Luke was here because I’m pretty sure he’s quit altogether. Somehow I kind of sling him off, but it’s enough for Sam to start hitting me in the stomach and I’m remembering when I did that to King Asshat. Did it hurt this bad?

  “Wait!”

  No freaking way.

  I see her over the brim of Ryan’s smelly armpit as he gets me into a headlock. The quick lack of air makes me choke and I hope she’s just a hallucination, a figment of my imagination, but I know she’s not.

  “I know where you can get something,” I hear her say. Her voice is quivering. I hate the way it sounds. “If I help you this one time, though, you find somebody else to get you high.”

  For a second the words sound familiar, but I don’t know why.

  Ryan is so desperate he doesn’t stop to think of the tactical implications of the situation. Hadley says she has access to special K and that’s all he hears. He lets me go and I don’t know if Hadley knows he has a gun, but I remember Ryan’s dad likes to shoot small animals for fun then hang the heads in their house. I remember he used to take Ryan and I wonder if Ryan (even with shaking hands) could aim as well as Hadley.

  “You know where the animal shelter is, right? Well, under the recycling bin, behind the fence post, there’s a spare key for emergencies. You could get inside and take whatever you want from the pharmacy. It’s Sunday, so there won’t be anyone there.” I notice how she doesn’t mention the fact that the pharmacy would probably be on lock-down with security codes and cameras. For all I know, she could have even been lying about the spare key, but then I also know what an amazing liar she can be when she wants to.

  The 2/3 Stooges look at each other as if deciding. “No way,” Sam says. One of the blisters on his mouth has burst and is oozing.

  “Yeah.” Ryan points to Hadley and my insides go cold. “You go in.”

  When I see how pale she gets, I know there is no spare key. But it doesn’t matter. “No.”

  “Then you gotta go cook us up some more stuff.”

  “I will, okay? Right now.” I had to get Hadley away from here. “I’ll do it right now.”

  I looked at Hadley and tried to soak up something in her. “Dog is in the field somewhere. Go find him for me and wait at your house for me. Okay?” Instead of moving, her perfect face forms a frown and I see her fingers reach up for the light bulb. I want to smile but my face won’t let me. I wanted to squeeze her hand but she is too far away. “It’s okay.”

  I wait until she is completely out of sight, but the others around me aren’t that patient. Sam gives me a shove and I stumble over myself. “Let’s go, Dude.”

  The second we step inside, Ryan nudges Sam and tells him to start looking for a stash. I never figured Ryan for the brains of the operation, but he tells Sam that if I don’t have party favors somewhere then I sure as hell must have cash.

  “Where is it, McKay?” They’ve tipped over my table and Dog’s bowl.

  Now they’re looking in the bathroom. I imagine them taking apart the toilet bowl, the sink head, and shower curtain rod. I hope they take their sweet ass time, but of course they don’t.

  “Where is what? You wanted me to cook, so I’m going to cook.”

  I’m trying to keep it casual, slowly taking flasks and beakers out of the crates. The fact is that I don’t have the ephedrine to make anything even if I wanted to, I hardly have any ingredients left at all.

  Ryan is pissed, I can tell. He’s sputtering like my pickup, takes out the gun from his waistband and points it at me.

  Sam’s eyes are wide. Maybe he hasn’t expected things to go this far but here they are. I’m wondering how much longer I can stall before one of us does something stupid, but then I’m thinking there probably aren’t even any bullets in
the gun.

  “Hey, Dude, chill the fuck out.”

  I give him similar advice, put my hands to my head and try to keep them steady.

  Sam says maybe they should just leave. I tell them they could go to a hospital and get methadone, but this only makes Ryan more pissed.

  “That shit gets catalogued, dumbass!”

  Sam is tugging on him, saying they need to leave, saying Hadley probably already called the cops and I feel that pain in my stomach again, that clenched up fear, that hurt, the hurt in the possibility that Hadley could be hurt.

  Ryan is saying that if I don’t give him something he’ll shoot me. There is anhydrous ammonia under the table and I’m thinking about the color yellow. Sam is saying something about how we’re all friends and we can all be cool, I just have to give them something. I’m wondering if nymphs can break their wings. Ryan is shouting at him to shut up and to me that I should start cooking in the same sentence. I think that it will only take a spark.

  “You can put t-that down,” I tell him. “Even a small batch takes a couple of hours.”

  But he accuses me of trying to trick him (just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t out to get you). Then he says if I don’t hurry the fuck up he’s going to take my girlfriend up on her offer.

  And I’m thinking about what could happen to Hadley when they realize she doesn’t really have pharmacy access. And I’m remembering the future and college plans and a warm hand in mine. And I’m thinking about hot chocolate and Dogs who steal sweatshirts.

  I tell him to go fuck himself.

  And then I’m thinking I won’t have to be afraid anymore. And I’m wondering if Jenna will stop using because she and King Asshat might actually have a chance. I’m thinking the Secret Mom Agency should give Helen Grayson an award. And I taste real mashed potatoes and I’m seeing Hadley and hearing her laugh and seeing her sleep.

  And Hadley, Hadley, Hadley.

  Chapter 47

  Hadley

  I think the funeral will be the worst of it. Mom and Dad are there. Simon and Jenna stand in the back somewhere, wearing black but not saying anything. I guess that’s okay; there isn’t anything to say, anyway. Granger is there, too, one other teacher and the principle. I recognize the suit he’s wearing as the one he wears every other Wednesday: brown with a dark green tie. I think that the jerk-off couldn’t even break out a black suit.