A Dark Road (22 page)

“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 ge
ts, I know there is no spare key. But it doesn’t matter. “No.”

“Then you gott
a 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 tri
ed 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.

N
ow 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.

But I guess that’s okay
, too.

His father isn’t there. There are whispers about issued arrest
warrants and things that the adults think I can’t handle, but I let them go on thinking I’m inconsolable. There’s only one other kid here. He’s tall and Hispanic and dressed way too well for someone our age but I try not to think about it. The kid doesn’t say anything, just stands to the side and looks sort of stoic, which I guess is appropriate. I don’t know.

The headstone my parents paid for is small,
polished with his name and some dates on it that don’t add up to me. 1996-2013? How is that right?

I think about it all while the clergymen (I still don’t know where Mom got him from)
mispronounces McKay for McKary, and while everybody fills the empty hole with a piece of earth. With almost no body left, it’s like empty on the empty, and I don’t understand.

I think the funeral is the worst part.

It isn’t.

I think the ‘clean-up’ might be the worst part. After the police and the fire fighters, forensics and the hazmat team from Philadelphia come to go through the wreckage. Yellow tape is put up and I can’t stop screaming. Even though we’re just outside of the containment zone, Mom and Dad make us leave anyway. So then there’s a hotel and blood work, and days of trying to understand.

There are l
ocal reporters trying to get a comment and Dad telling them to shove it. There’s Mom on the phone, police asking questions I won’t answer, can’t. A district attorney comes over and there’s pleasant talk between the adults but I don’t think it goes anywhere. The water is tested, Mom and Dad fight, then the realtor is called but nothing happens.

Simon goes back to school and eventually the bulldozers come to clear out the last of the
rubble, the charred remains of what used to be. I think the ash is all the wrong color but I can’t say it.

The water is tested again.
Surveyors from something called the Department of Natural Resources knock on our door, on everyone’s doors in Ravel. I’m told I should talk to a counselor and take phone calls, but I can’t.

My voice doesn’t seem to work anymore.

I think the ‘clean-up’ might be the worst part.

It isn’t.

The worst
part of it, without question, are the nights. Once the best part of any given day, now they are filled with nightmares that have nothing but flames and sirens in them. Sometimes I wake up right away, but other times I don’t, and when that happens, Mom and Dad, and even sometimes Simon, come in with the screaming. It’s too much for Simon to take, and I’m suddenly terrified about what will happen when Dog dies, because he’s the last living piece of James I have left. And what will happen when I leave for college? And I know that Jenna and Simon won’t work and I’m worried for Mom and I’m worried for Dad and I can’t stand to think of the color yellow or the word cook, or of flashlights, or pizza with hot dogs, or even hot dogs and pizza respectively. And I’m crying and sobbing and Dog is whining and whining.

And Mom is telling me it’s okay, that it will be okay.
That I’m okay. And for a second I understand what James was talking about.

Acknowledgements

Ice-cream
and sprinkles to the good people at Limitless Publishing for their tolerance for putting up with me. Additional desserts go to Toni Rakestraw and Eden Crane book Design for all their hard work. You guys are awesome.

Love and pastries to Scottie, Mom, Kyle, the family, Etc.
Please note I
do not
have actual pastries, just hugs and words.