his lips tightly together, and three nostril hairs swayed in his nose as he breathed in.
It was safe to assume he wasn’t in the mood to chat. I grunted, the pressure on my head feeling like my brain was about to leak out of my ear.
His intense glare flicked across my face. After an eternity, he released my hair and folded the sheet of paper into his shirt pocket. He stood, opened the door, and held it with his foot.
Avoiding eye contact, I lifted my head from the table, stood, and walked through the door. The hall opened into a waiting room filled with chairs. Gordie and Raj sat at the far end, tracking me with their eyes as I beelined for the exit. They scrambled to their feet and followed me outside into the bitter night air.
Behind me, Gordie struggled to keep up on his crutches. “Holy crap. Was that Chief Swindon? What did he say?”
I turned the corner and started up the sidewalk. “He said he’d make me famous if I didn’t remove myself from his affairs.” I glanced over my shoulder at him.
“He said what?”
Seeing the frightened, child-like expression on Gordie’s face gave me a rush of emotion. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to break down.
“I’m guessing not in a good way,” Raj said.
The sidewalk led past brick buildings cast in deep shadows, metal-barred windows, and the orange glow of streetlights. We stopped at a glass-sided bus shelter with a bench seat and concrete ground blackened by fire. Gordie propped his crutches against the shelter wall and eased onto the seat. Raj slumped onto the other end of the seat next to a broken-out window, and closed his eyes. A grin widened on his face. “Is my head messed up, or did Bundy smell like barbecue pork on the end of that Taser?”
I smiled, and a sharp pain went through my jaw and down my neck. “Can you imagine the world of trouble those cops are in for tasering Kyle?”
On the other side of the street, a silver bus drove past a bus stop and continued toward the intersection. Gordie ran his fingers over the graze on his cheek. “It’s karma for when they called the cops on you at Field Day.”
If karma really was a thing, it’d be scary to find out what we did to cause all this. My smile faded. “I didn’t think it’d be possible, but Kyle’s old man is more of a psycho than he is.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the psycho,” Raj said.
I nudged Gordie’s shoulder. “I’ll be disappointed if Kyle doesn’t end up with hearing loss after that headshot with your crutch. Who knew you had it in you to pull off such badassery?”
A slight smile lifted Gordie’s lips as he leaned his shoulder against the shelter, his gaze a thousand miles away. “That was the first time I’ve ever taken control of my life.” He turned to me. “It felt good. Maybe Raj was right. Maybe we can take care of ourselves?”
Raj examined the dried blood on his hand. “Did I say that? I take it back. We’re truly dead.”
Across the street, an old man swayed and staggered along the sidewalk holding a sack big enough to make Santa Claus envious.
“I still don’t get it,” Gordie said. “Why is Kyle trying to kill us?”
I sat between them on the bench and dug my hands into my jacket pockets. “In some dark part of his mind, maybe we’re to blame for his problems. What happened today didn’t fix anything. It just proved he’ll kill us if he gets a chance, and also that his old man is as messed up as he is.”
Raj rested his chin in his hands, stroking his lips with this finger. “My parents always say the Hindu god Ganesha looks out for us, but where is he when we need him?”
“There are seven billion people on the planet,” I said. “Pretty sure Ganesha has other things to worry about.”
“Never mind the other people,” Gordie said. “I heard there are ten trillion planets in our galaxy. Pretty sure he has other planets to worry about.”
“Now I feel small,” Raj said.
“Don’t get me started on the hundred billion galaxies in the known universe.”
A truck heaved around the corner, sweeping us with its headlights. Raj’s bloodshot eyes stared into the distance. On my other side, Gordie shook his head, gazing up at a moth battering itself against a streetlight. “We’re in so much trouble,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fists like a child in need of naptime.
We’d barely slept in two nights, and I felt as shattered as they looked. We wouldn’t last like this, not with all three of us edging closer to breakdown. I’d been through rough times and learned to take just about anything, but not this. When I was a high school freshman, a senior, Jake MacFadyen, made me choose between giving him my sandwich or getting a beating. I held onto the sandwich and he gave me the ass kicking of my life. The next day, I brought a pocketknife for protection, and when I refused to give him my sandwich, he cut me with my own knife. The day after, I gave him my sandwich, but didn’t tell him about the thumbtacks in the peanut butter. He beat the shit out of me, spitting blood the entire time, but never tried it again. I’d always figured every asshole has his limits, but then I met Kyle. He was going to do bad things to us, and no amount of running, hiding, or thumbtacks in peanut butter was going to keep him from what he wanted. And if we tried to stop him, his old man would get the job done. Unless Drac got in first. Either way, we had no future here.
I rested my head in my hands. “Let’s get the hell out of dodge while we can.”
Neither of them spoke for the longest time, and then Raj broke the silence. “For how long?”
“However long you like. I’m not coming back.”
A gust of wind blew leaves across the sidewalk, and flecks of rain hit my face.
Gordie zipped up his jacket and hunched over against the cold. “When would we leave?”
“Pack your stuff tonight,” I said. “We’ll meet at the Greyhound station on Howard at eleven thirty tomorrow.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and drew a gaspy breath. There were kids who ran away from home, and then there was Gordie. It would take the threat of death to make him leave his home, but that was the situation he had to weigh.
We sat in silence awhile longer, gathering our thoughts. Seventeen years of living in Detroit and the only reason I had for not leaving was Allie, a girl who at best felt pity for me. Even still, I wasn’t ready to never see her again, not without saying goodbye.
Feeling like we had a plan, I stood from the bench. “I need to see Allie before we go. I’ll catch her in history class tomorrow morning and meet you at the bus station after.”
Gordie raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? If Kyle and Bundy find you, they won’t let you get away again.”
20. Last Chance Goodbye
Dark clouds rumbled in the night sky, occasionally flashing bright. With no wallet and no bus pass, I’d had to walk across what felt like half the state of Michigan to get to the house I’d call home for the last time.
I released the gate latch and followed the dirt path to my front door, scanning the darkness behind bare windows. The imprint of Kyle’s knuckles on my cheek throbbed with each heartbeat. That’d be the last time I’d ever let him give me trouble, except for tomorrow when I drop out of school and leave everything I know to start a new life in a different city. I jabbed my key into the lock and pushed the door open.
The air was thick with the sour stink of liquor and stale take-away. On the table next to the kitchen, the dim silhouettes of a dozen empty whiskey bottles, a stack of old TV dinners, and piles of unwashed clothes were visible in the darkness. If there’s a point at which a home becomes just a roof over your head, this was way past it. I pushed the door shut behind me.
Across the room, a dark figure lay on the couch, wheezing every few seconds. My old man obliterated himself on whiskey every afternoon, enough to last till the next morning. I didn’t need Dr. Phil to tell me he was a mess without Mom. Some days I found myself hating him for it; her death was hard on me too, damn it.
He snuffled weakly. “Diane, have you seen my keys?”
A lump formed in my throat. Being alone wasn’t working for him, not by a long shot, and tomorrow he’d find out what being completely alone was all about. I couldn’t leave without saying anything. I crept toward the couch, floorboards creaking under my shoes.
The wheezing stopped. “Who’s there?” He switched on the lamp. “Oh, it’s you.” He lifted his head, his hair stuck up on one side and his gray-black beard matted with dribble. “Have you eaten?”
“Yeah.” Same old routine. Telling the truth was pointless. He was hardly going to go to the grocery store or cook a meal. We never talked properly anymore anyway, not like we used to when I was a kid and we’d stay up late while he told me his stories. These days he never seemed to have anything worth a damn to say.
“I hope you’re not eating junk.” He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Have you done your homework?”
I shrugged.
“Don’ ever forget your homework, it’s important. Your mother always used to want you to do your best.” He looked away and made a noise in his throat. After lying still a few seconds, he lifted a whiskey bottle from the floor and clutched it against his chest. “How’s your buddy Garry doing?”
“Gordie?”
He swigged from the bottle and wiped his mouth, the creases around his eyes deepening like an old man. With a strained moan, he broke into a gasping cough and turned his face into the pillow, curling on his side.
“Are you okay?” I stepped toward him.
He
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