It smells like fabric softener.
He even washed it.
Closing my eyes, I surrender to my tears. The first ones I’ve let fall since he was ripped from my arms.
Wes might be the one who was taken away in handcuffs, but I’m the one facing a life sentence. This house is my prison. This baby and that little girl behind me—they’re my wardens. As long as they’re alive, I’ll be here, suffering, because I can’t take the easy way out if it means causing them pain.
“Rainbow? Are you crying?”
“Nah, she’s just snorin’. Growing a baby makes you real tired. Why don’t you go tell Mama that your bed’s here? She’ll be so happy.”
“Okay!”
I hear Sophie stomp back down the stairs just before the door closes with a quiet snick.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as the floorboards creak under Carter’s heavy feet. I expect to feel the bed sag under his weight, but when it doesn’t, I turn and find him pacing back and forth across my matted carpet.
His eyebrows are furrowed, his swollen lips move as if he’s mumbling to himself, and his long fingers are tugging on his overgrown black curls.
I’ve never seen him so distraught. It makes me nervous.
“How did you guys get here?” I ask, hoping to take his mind off of whatever has him acting this way.
“My mom went back to our house, got my dad’s truck out of the garage, and drove to the mall to pick us up.” He shrugs. “Told us she was takin’ us home.”
“How did your dad get to the truck with his broken leg?”
“I pushed him in that rolly chair you gave him.”
“And y’all didn’t see any Bonys?”
Carter turns and glares at me with his one good eye. “Can we not do this?”
“What?”
“Pretend like everything’s fucking fine.”
I sigh and roll onto my back, feeling my dad’s gun dig into my spine. “Fine with me.”
Carter doesn’t say anything. He just keeps pacing, and I just keep staring at his battered face.
“I’m sorry,” I finally mutter, not knowing where else to begin.
“It’s not your fault,” he replies without taking his eyes off the floor. “Birth control is only, like, ninety-nine percent effective.”
Wait. What?
“I just … I’m not ready to be a dad.”
Oh my God. That’s what he’s upset about? He thinks this baby is his?
The thought seems absurd, but when I think about it, it’s probably only been about two months since Carter and I were together. Two months that feel like two lifetimes. That was back before his family packed up and left me in Franklin Springs without a second glance. Back when my parents were still alive.
Back when my birth control shot was still effective.
“You’re not gonna be a dad.” I sigh, trying not to roll my eyes.
“I’m not?” Carter stops pacing and looks over at me again.
I shake my head, bracing for the brunt of his anger when he realizes that the man who mangled his face is the same one who knocked me up. But instead, Carter’s split lips spread into a wide grin as he bounds over to give me a hug.
“Holy shit, girl! You had me worried there for a sec. I’m so glad we’re on the same page! Listen, I got you. I’ll take you to the clinic, I’ll pay for the procedure, whatever you need. Just do me a favor and tell my mom you had a miscarriage, okay?”
I’m stunned speechless as Carter squeezes me a second time.
“Hey, boy!” Mr. Renshaw’s gruff voice calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Your mother says the highway’s clear all the way into town now. I’m goin’ on a Burger Palace run. You wanna come with?”
“Hell yeah!” Carter fixes his one open eye on me and grins.
That’s when I notice that he’s missing about as many teeth as his sister. Wes really did a number on him.
Makes me love him even more.
“Dude, I haven’t had a King Burger in weeks! You want one? Wait. Duh. Of course you want one. Pregnant chicks are always hungry. I’ll get you two!”
Carter bounds out of my room, leaving the door wide open as I curl even tighter around the pillow in my arms.
“Will you boys get a King Burger combo for me, a Big Kid box for Sophie, and—oh, what the heck? Grab us some milkshakes, too! We’re celebratin’!”
“Mama, I found a DVD player! Can I watch a movie?”
“Of course, princess! You can watch whatever you want! And while we wait for the boys to get back, Mama’s gonna go take a nice hot bath. Praise be to God!”
I get up and close my bedroom door, locking it as quietly as possible before sagging against it and sliding to the floor. I stare at Sophie’s bed, standing in the spot where mine used to be, and realize that I don’t even have a home anymore.
This is their house now.
I’m just the ghost that haunts it.
Wes
The ride downtown has taken hours so far, thanks to all the roads that still haven’t been cleared. At one point, the cops pulled over and called for an industrial-sized snow plow to come and escort us the rest of the way in, which has given them even more time to talk about which steroids to use now that they’re legal and what the going rate for pussy is on the open market.
I checked out of their conversation somewhere near the Mall of Georgia and have been staring out the window ever since. It’s a game I used to play on the school bus to take my mind off whatever the fuck had happened at my foster home the night before or whatever the fuck was gonna happen when I got to school that morning. I watch for road signs, streetlights, telephone poles—shit like that—and give each one a different sound in my mind. Telephone poles are the bass line. Bum, bum, bum, bum. Nice and steady. When a Stop sign comes by, it’s a hi-hat. Ching! Road signs might be hand claps or dog barks or fucking jingle bells—whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that by the time I get to whatever shithole I’m going to, I’ve already forgotten about the one I just came from.
But when the street signs morph into double razor-wire fencing and the telephone poles are replaced by watchtowers, the symphony in my head fades away. Now, all I can hear is the steady beat of blood rushing into my extremities. Fulton County Jail the words above the front entrance announce. Hell, even the building looks like it could stab you. Beige concrete with hallways jutting out in all directions like a twelve-story high asterisk. I’m sure the inside is even less inviting, but I wouldn’t know.
I’ve never been to jail before.
Not because I didn’t deserve it. Just because I never got caught.
We approach the main entrance, but instead of pulling in and getting cleared by a guard, we drive right past the front gates. The guard stand is empty, and the gates are wide open.
Then, I remember what that French bitch, the director of the World Health Alliance, said on the April 24 announcement.
“In an effort to protect the law of natural selection going forward and to ensure that our population never again faces extinction due to our irresponsible allocation of resources to the weakest, most dependent members of society, all social services and subsidies are to be discontinued. Life support measures are to be discontinued. Government-provided emergency services are to be discontinued, and all incarcerated members of society will be released.”