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As soon as I spy a smiling Happy at the bottom of the stairs, he takes one look at my face and his smile is replaced with a look of worry. Meeting me at the very last step, he wraps a large arm around my shoulders and I’m overcome with emotion. Gripping his lapel, I cry into his chest as he leads me through the back of the house to where a car is waiting.

He ushers me in, gives the driver my address, then says to me sadly, “Not everyone can be a fairy-tale hero.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “The world needs villains too.”

The car drives me home. I shower, then dress for bed.

I make an effort to text Nikki and Dave to let them know I’m home because I’m not feeling that great, and to party on without me.

Turning on my CD player and sliding under the covers, my last thought before I drift to sleep is how much I’m going to miss Twitch.

Stooping to a level I never thought I’d reach, I contemplate my current position.

My mind’s only excuse for what I’m doing is that I’m doing this for Lexi.
 

She needs me.
 

I need her.

I ignore my mind’s voice.

Because it’s wrong.

My bed dips, a tall body slides in behind me, and a strong arm comes around my waist, pulling me back into warmth.

My heart begins to race.

That’s when I smell his cologne.

I ask sleepily, “What are you doing here?”

Kissing my shoulder for a solid minute, he replies, “Ssssh. The more talking you do, the less time you’re thinking. So think, Angel. I’m just gettin’ some sleep.”

My heart stupidly swells.
 

He made an effort. He’s making an effort. Something tells me this is a big deal.

Leaning back into him, I whisper, “You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

Burying his face into my hair, he breathes me in and orders, “Sleep. Now.”

Unable to stop myself, I link my fingers with his at my hip and fall into a deep, restful slumber.

My brain at ease.

My heart content.

Today is not going well.

Turning left at the hall to get to Lexi’s office, I stop short when I hear a raised voice.

My brow furrows.

“You just don’t get it, Miss Ballentine! I have reasons. I can’t tell you what they are. You’re just going to have to trust me!” This comes from a young man. From the sounds of him, I’d say an adolescent.

Lexi shoots back, “Trust
you
like you
obviously
trust me?” Sarcasm drips from her voice.

I stand by the doorway and listen in on the heated exchange.

“Michael, you can’t keep cutting school like this. Mr Gilbert called me four times last week to let me know you’ve been tardy, and I’m seriously
not
happy with lying to your principal.” A pause, then more softly, “We had a deal. You keep your phone on you so I can contact you at all times. You really have no idea how much freedom I’m giving you, sweetie. Would you like to know why I treat you differently?”

I peek in.

Michael keeps his face lowered, arms crossed over his chest, chin squared in teenaged-defiance, while Lexi scoots closer to him and says quietly, “It’s because you’re smart, Mickey. I’ve been your case worker for two years now and I know smart when I see it. I also know that people are going to do what they can to make life easier, so I have to tell you how disappointed I am that Sam saw you the other day.”

Michael’s eyes widen, head still lowered. He shifts around nervously and swallows hard.
 

Lexi’s sadness sounds through her voice. “I thought you weren’t going to deal anymore. We had an agreement.”

Michael stays quiet a long time before he whispers, “Sometimes good people have to do bad things. It’s nothing personal. It’s just life, Miss Ballentine.”

Geez. That’s rough. But he hit the nail right on the head.

I’ve decided I like this kid. And Lexi was right; he
is
smart.

Reacting without thinking, I stride into the office. Lexi looks up and her eyes widen. She smiles warmly before her face turns to stunned disbelief. Rushing over to me, she hisses, “What are you doing here?”

Placing a hand up to stop her from talking, I move to stand in front of Michael. “Stand up, boy.”

Still sitting with his arms crossed, he looks me up and down with a curled lip before rolling his eyes and standing with a huff.

I ask, “How old are you?”

Looking to the side playing the
I’m so uninterested that I’m getting distracted
card, he replies, “I’ll be seventeen next week.”

“You need money?”

His face snaps up to mine.

Yeah.

I know desperation when I see it.

I state, “You need money.” Making a snap decision, I tell him, “You just quit dealing. Tell Frank or Hamid that you’re not dealing anymore. You tell them that you work for Twitch now and they won’t give you shit.”

Michael’s eyes widen comically, obviously shocked that I know the name of two of Sydney’s biggest dealers. He stutters, “Wh-wh-why? You don’t even know me. Why would you hire me?”

Not missing a beat, I respond, “’Cause Lexi’s right. You’re too fucking smart to be a low-time drug dealer on the streets of Sydney. Come work for me and we’ll turn you into something better. You won’t be doing anything great at the start, but you got to start somewhere.”

He eyes the tattoos on my neck, then looks down at the tattoos on my hands. His eyes move back up to my face and I know he’s looking at the small thirteen tattooed on my cheek bone.

He’s caving. And quick. I guess I expected more of a fight from him.

I ask firmly, “You in or out? ‘Cause if you’re out, I’ll just let you know that you’ll never get another opportunity like this again. I look after my employees, Michael, that’s why they don’t leave me.”

Michael looks unsure for a second. He asks, “What’s in it for you?”

My lip twitches.

Smart kid. I knew I liked him.

“A young employee who likes to learn. Someone with a fresh, untainted mind that I can teach without having to
un
teach the shit you’ve been taught. An employee who will work his way up. An employee who might even be
me
one day.”

Michael’s eyes have become both hopeful and wistful, and I know I’ve got him.

He nods and I smile gently, “Good.” Handing him a business card, I explain, “This is your new workplace. You’ll come every day after school and work with me ‘til eight PM. I’ll take you home myself, so you don’t need to worry about that. If, at the end of the year, you decide working with me is some place you see yourself in the future, you can quit school and I’ll pay for furthering your education through TAFE or university. Sound good?”

His face holds a look of disbelief and he nods slowly. Looking at his clothes, I tell him, “And dress nice, Michael.”

His face falls and I could smack myself.

That was insensitive.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet. I take out five hundred-dollar bills and place them in his hand. “Like I was saying. Dress nice. And get a haircut too. You look like a freakin’ hippy.”

Dumbfounded.

That’s the only word I could use to explain his expression.