“Dude,” I pant, slowing to a stop at the edge of the park. “My life sucks for so many reasons.”
I explain everything, full-on diarrhea of the mouth about the house, Piper, Erika, Yusef . . . no detail left unturned. She listens in silence, then chuckles.
“He’s right.”
“Damn, not you too,” I groan.
“You’re my girl and I love you but . . . you can be a self-centered asshole sometimes,” she says, in a sorry-not-sorry kind of way. “Like, do you even notice you only call when you need something? Seriously, when’s the last time you asked what’s going on with me? Everything seems to be happening to you, as if you didn’t have a part in it.”
I open my mouth, but once again come up empty with excuses. It’s what happens when you haven’t slept in a week.
“And I told you before, put yourself in Piper’s shoes for a change,” she says. “If you were her, and your new sister did something hella shitty to you, what would you want?”
I sigh. “An apology.”
“Right. So how about you start there!”
Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.
“But that’s not why I called you,” she says, brightening. “You don’t need to grow your own shit anymore. You’re about to be saved!”
“Huh?”
“I just read they actually legalized recreational marijuana statewide last year. Cedarville has just been waiting to hand out licenses for dispensaries. One was finally approved and it’s a national chain!”
“Are you serious?” I gasp, a smile blooming.
“Yeah. Sending you the article.”
City leaders have approved its first dispensary license to Good Crop Inc, allowing Cedarville the opportunity to participate in an industry that’s estimated to yield $5 billion in annual sales. Good Crop currently operates dispensaries in Arizona, Connecticut, California, Florida, Maine, Maryland, New Jersey, Nevada, and New York.
CEO Nathan Kruger says, “We’re excited about bringing new jobs to the city of Cedarville!”
“Dude,” I groan, closing my eyes.
“What?”
“Please tell me Nathan Kruger isn’t related to Eden Kruger in some way, right?”
Tamara goes quiet, typing hectically before muttering an “Oh. Fuck.”
—Eden Kruger, philanthropist
Daughter of Scott Clark, magic seed scammer. Also, married to Nathan Kruger, weed pusher.
Back at the house, Mom waves from the car pulling out of the driveway and I find Sammy in the kitchen.
“Hey, where’s Mom off to?” I ask, grabbing a water out of the fridge.
Sammy pops a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave and shrugs.
“Some meeting with the Foundation people. She was waiting for you to come home first. Piper’s upstairs.”
I lean in close and whisper, “Did you check the cameras yet?”
“Not yet. Was waiting until the coast was clear. Plus, I haven’t had my snack yet!”
Right. After-school oatmeal was top priority.
“Okay, I’ll grab them while you eat. Cool?”
“Cool,” he grins as the timer dings.
Shedding my sweaty shirt, I run upstairs to change and just as I reach the top, my bare foot lands on a nail.
“Ow!” I scream, gripping the banister to keep from falling, hopping on one foot, the pain blinding.
“You okay?” Sammy calls.
I manage to sit on the top step, propping my foot up to inspect the damage. No blood drawn, only a deep imprint left. Thank God. Last thing I need is a trip to the ER. I search for the culprit and there, a few steps down, is not a nail but a tiny beige pebble.
“Ugh,” I groan, reaching down to grab it. “This is why Mom says no shoes in the house!”
The pebble pricks my thumb as I hold it between my fingers and upon closer inspection . . . I blink twice, eye twitching. It’s not a pebble either, it’s a tooth.
“What . . . the fuck,” I mumble.
The tooth is sharp, yellow, blood dried black flaking on the bottom. Sammy’s already lost all his baby teeth. Only person left would be Piper.
I knock on her doorframe. “Hey.”
Sitting on the bed, Piper meticulously folds her laundry, taking her time to make each shirt a crisp square, then adding it to a neat pile. Just like a little old lady would.
The tooth, sitting in my palm . . . it’s too large and worn down to be a kid’s tooth. But where did it come from?
“Daddy says you’re leaving,” she sneers without looking up.
Quickly, I shove the tooth in my pocket.
“Um, yeah. Guess you’re getting what you wanted after all.”
Lips pressed together, she lifts her chin and shrugs. “Well . . . good.”
Thinking of Tamara, I suck up my pride.
“So look, I just wanna say, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. About you being a pawn. And for what I did . . . when I was high.”
Piper’s head snaps in my direction. I’ve surprised her. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, so I keep going.
“Back then, that had nothing to do with you and it had everything to do with me. You and your dad, you were just meeting me in a different time in my life. But I’ve changed, whether you believe me or not. Just hoping we could, you know, have a sort of truce these last few days.”
She frowns. “What’s that?”
“It’s like when you agree to stop fighting and arguing for a certain period of time. So can we do that? Have peace for the next four days?”
Piper mulls it over. “And then . . . you’ll leave?”
“Yup.”
She hesitates, nibbling on her lip, then nods. “Oh. Okay.”
Why does it feel like that’s not what she really wants?
I’m about to ask when something clatters downstairs. I step into the hall.
“Dude? What are you doing?”
No answer. Just Buddy barking.
“Sammy?” I call, taking the stairs slowly, trying to ignore the prickling in my stomach. I make the corner, the kitchen empty, a cup of water spilled on the counter, knocked over. A fresh wave of panic covers my bones in ice.
Shit. Where’s Sammy?
Instinctively, I glance at the basement door, still shut. Buddy barks wildly, prancing by the table. Something moves; a squeaking fills the air. I stagger toward Buddy, gulping, and find Sammy sprawled out on the floor behind the kitchen isle.
“Sam!” I scream, diving for him.
Sammy claws at his throat, eyes frantic, legs kicking. I pull him into my lap.
“What, what’s wrong, what’s . . . ?”
Then I smell it. A scent I’m not always used to. One that hasn’t been in our home since Sammy was four. Sweet yet savory, coming from the bowl of oatmeal lying beside him.
Peanut butter.
There’s being scared and then there’s being completely petrified. And I hadn’t hit that level until this very moment.
Sammy strains, helpless and desperate. His sneakers squeaking against the floor.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I reassure him in a shrill voice. “I got you!”
Piper comes running in and stops short. “What’s happening?” she yelps. “What’s wrong with Sam?”