“Why would I let them beat me up? Are you capable of using your brain at all, or are you really that stupid?” I ask, shaking my head and crossing my arms.
“Maybe she likes to the pain,” Blake chimes in, a goofy grin still plastered on his oily face.
I roll my eyes. “Alright, thanks for nothing.”
“Wait,” Flint barks, sending a jolt through me. “Let’s make a deal.”
“I don’t want to,” I reply, but I don’t walk away. I’m curious as to what’s on his mind, and I’d really like to know who did all this to me.
“You’re still here,” Flint state, “So you must want to make a deal.” Meanwhile, Blake looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin at me.
“Just get on with it,” I grumble, crossing my arms tightly and pressing my lips together in disapproval.
“Okay, so for two-hundred bucks, I’ll give you the scoop,” Flint announces.
“What?” I exclaim. “Are you nuts?”
He shrugs. “Deal or no deal?”
“No deal,” I reply. “You think I have that kind of money?”
“You obviously do, rich girl,” Flint replies.
“Don’t call me that,” I say, turning away.
“I have a better deal,” Blake yells as I’m about to turn away.
“God, no more deals,” I say, shaking my head.
“This one is good,” Blake says. “We’ll tell you who did it, and in return, you get on your knees and blow us. You have to swallow, no spitting.”
“Fuck you,” I reply, turning and charging off down the sidewalk. I’m so done with these two clowns. Flint is a money-hungry idiot who thinks I’m rich, and Blake is just a pervert.
“You fucked it up,” I hear Flint say to Blake as I walk away.
Indeed, they both fucked it up.
Chapter Six
Flint
I would’ve been happy with a hundred dollars. I don’t see why Amber didn’t want to bargain with me. I probably would’ve settled on twenty bucks if I had to, just so I could buy a cheap rain jacket. I need one because it looks like it’s going to rain soon.
I sent Blake home after he scared off Amber, and now I have to get ready to spend the night on the streets again. Sometimes I like to sleep at the skate park, but the creek is going to be a better bet in the rain. I’ll have a bridge to cover my head. I just hope the water levels don’t get too high and soak my sleeping bag.
Broken car or not, Amber should be thankful she has a place to lay her pretty head. I’d love to have a busted up car that I could spend the night in away from the rain. Instead, I have a moldy bridge that sprinkles dirt on my head every time someone walks over it.
It’s going to be a while until the sun sets, but I need to get under the bridge before the rain starts to come down. I place my skateboard on the ground, kicking at the smooth cement to propel me out of the skatepark. It’s a shame I couldn’t stay longer and practice, but the weather has more control over my schedule than anything else.
I haven’t smoked my joint yet, despite having it hanging from my lips the entire way to the skate park. The problem with Blake is that he’s always trying to get something from people. And if I smoke it in front of him, he’s going to want a hit. He doesn’t understand that I need this shit to sleep. The ground is hard and unforgiving under my back and weed relaxes me to the point where I don’t mind the rocks and sticks so much.
I don’t really give a shit about the cops around here. They barely do their jobs, so it’s no issue for me to light up as I walk down the sidewalk in the same direction as Amber was headed earlier. I swear I can still smell her perfume in the air, but that’s soon going to be replaced by the rich smell of potent weed.
I have a love hate relationship with the stuff, but it keeps me from having too many outbursts. Nobody but my mom has seen me completely flip out. The last time it happened, I had to transfer schools. I ended up breaking someone’s arm and it was all over after that. I have to stay chill now.
I spark my lighter, lifting a flame to the end of the white joint hanging from my lips. I take a drag, suppressing a cough as the thick hot smoke fills my lungs. The irritation is welcome, like what Blake said about Amber enjoying pain. He might not have been right, but he’d be right if he said it about me. There’s something satisfying about it, like it’s a reminder that I’m still alive.
I let out the smoke, blowing it ahead of me and walking through it like a portal into another world. I’ll be there soon, and it’s a better place than I am right now. It’s an escape, really, and one that I take often so that I can get a break from the pressure of the real world. I think everyone practices escapism, but I do it more than others.
I have more to escape from.
The words of my stepfather echo through my head as the first tiny droplets of rain urge me to walk faster to the creek. He told me that I was worthless. I know he just wanted control of the entire house, and that included me. Never mind that I’m an adult, capable of governing my own life. I just wish that Dean understood that.
I doubt he cares, though. People like him only care about themselves.
One day, that bastard is going to get what’s coming to him. I’m going to have my own place, and my mom is going to move there with me. I’m going to have my own auto repair shop, and I’ll fix up cars just like Amber’s. I like to work with my hands. It gives me an outlet for my frustrations.
But I can’t start my car mechanic training until I graduate high school. They don’t accept dropouts in any of the local apprenticeship programs. I was turned away the first time I went over there last year, when I had wanted to call it quits on school and get a head start on living my life. As it turns out, there are no shortcuts to freedom. You have to put in the work to get the prize.
People like Blake don’t get that. Hell, people like Amber don’t get that either. The poor are confined by their negative thought process and bad environment, while the rich are confined by their reliance on money to solve their problems. I doubt Amber has ever had to lift a wrench in her entire life.
I don’t really hate Amber, as different as she is, but I know that she’s uppity. I can’t help but to think that she did something to deserve that beating and car trashing, but I can’t come up with anything solid to hold over her head. She would almost seem innocent if I didn’t know better. Her kind never are.
I shake off the droplets of cold rain as they hit my jacket, not wanting them to soak into the fabric before I can make it to the creek. I start to walk faster, puffing on my joint like it’ll keep me dry. A drop of water splashes onto the tip of it, knocking the cherry out onto the sidewalk at my feet.
“Fucking bullshit,” I exclaim, throwing the joint down onto the ground and charging forward. I have about ten seconds before I get totally soaked, judging by how quickly the rain is starting to come down.
I was wrong. It was five.
I make it to the bridge a split second before a heavy sheet of rain passes through the air, turning the once pleasant spring evening into a torrential downpour of cold rain. I move deep under the bridge, as far away from the rain as possible. Unfortunately, the bridge isn’t very wide, and mud splatters from the edges onto my sneakers as I stand hunched underneath it.