I scan through all their fresh ingredients and weird worded foreign shit I’ve never even seen before, let alone tried, digging out an old pack of Eggos. I’m pretty sure they’re covered in freezer burn, but I go for it anyway. It’s not like I’ve never eaten old or expired food that people claim is still good.
Nothing in my house ever lasted long enough to get old, but everything that came from the church was a solid week or more past the ‘best by’ or expiration date. The only thing that didn’t come expired was the milk, when we were lucky enough to get it.
I was always the one to have to go down on donation days. Being a kid all alone in a line full of mostly adults, their bleeding hearts felt bad and they’d give me more than the others, something they thought would brighten my eyes a little. It did. The one extra box of semi-stale cereal or a jar of canned jelly to go with the cheap Peter Pan peanut butter would honestly make my day, and sometimes my month when a spoonful of each was what held me over at home until the school days where I’d eat free meals in the cafeteria.
I stopped going to the donation centers though when I saw one of the other moms from my trailer park, who was there with her youngest kid, get turned away for lack of goods.
I’d heard my mom try to turn her out once, but she wasn’t one to run tricks to buy her drugs like my mom. No, she chose to sell her food stamps instead. So, without the church’s food, her kids simply didn’t eat. She was never hungry since her drug of choice was meth, so I doubt she even noticed all the times her kids would make their way to other neighbors’ houses hoping for an invite to stay and eat that didn’t always come.
They were only five and seven. I was nine.
I left my box on their steps that day.
I think that was the moment I realized other people had it worse than me.
If I could go back there and pull all those kids from their homes, I would.
People think CPS steps in and saves little kids, but that can only happen if someone cares enough to call. Unfortunately, most around us don’t. Their situations are usually shitty in some way too, and they don’t want anyone in their business, so mouths stay shut when maybe they shouldn’t.
I only remember ever seeing one kid getting removed from his home, and that was only because his dad overdosed, and the dad’s girlfriend didn’t want him there. Sucked when he left. He would sit outside with me at night sometimes, waiting for the louder clients of my mom’s to leave.
With my plate of slightly soggy waffles in hand, I tiptoe back to my room. I drop onto the bed and take my time eating, then grab my stash from the drawer and roll a joint. It’s a pinner, all I have left is the shake from the bottom of the bag, but it’ll get the job done.
I grab the old water bottle from the bedside table to ash in and drop in the chair next to the window. I unlatch it and push it open ... and a piercing ring hits my ears making me cringe.
I slam it shut, but it keeps going.
I growl, jumping when my door is thrown open and Maddoc appears.
He pushes a button on his phone and the earsplitting alarm – that they must have had installed or activated today – stops.
He stands there a minute with hair the perfect kind of fucked-up, puffy lips and sleepy eyes. Shirtless and in nothing but tight briefs, his morning wood still very much present, and suddenly I’m hot in all the right places.
But he gets me in the gut when fire doesn’t fill his eyes, and instead they slowly drop to my doorknob before purposefully lifting back to mine and holding.
Anger and cageyness stare back but he blinks them away, a mask now slipped in their place. He walks away without a word.
I jerk forward, ready to go after him but I force my feet still, reminding myself the shift in the house is my fault and the way I’m reacting to it isn’t who I am.
I’m not a frail girl affected by the actions of a broody boy.
So I locked him out twice now, so what?
With a sigh, I toss the weak ass joint to the carpet and drop back on the mattress where I stay for the remainder of the day.
Yeah, I’m not even fooling myself.
This is gonna suck.
I’m stuffing my phone back in my pocket right as Cap walks in. “That was Leo,” I say.
“And?” Captain pushes.
“He said Coach ran into Perkins’ office and slammed the door shut.”
“The fuck?” Royce steps closer.
“I have no fucking idea.”
“We can’t even miss a fucking day anymore without shit going south.” Cap shakes his head, annoyed by all the bullshit.
Raven comes down the stairs right then and all our stares lift.
She stops in her tracks, her eyes flying between the three of us as her slow steps carry her farther down. While her features remain perfectly expressionless, I know those eyes and dread bleeds through the stormy grey.
“We leave in five.” I don’t look at anyone as I say it, and I’m in the car before they’ve even had a chance to grab their shit.
I glare at the traitorous orchards as I wait.
Until two nights ago, I liked the seclusion of the trees that surround us, blocking us from the outside world, but the dark blanket it provides helped her get out without tipping us off to what direction she went.
Where’d you go, baby, and why you pulling away?
I groan, running my hands down my face.
She’s making me a weak bitch. Maybe the distance she’s forcing is what I need to fucking detach a little.
Maybe I should tie her ass to the bed, legs spread, arms out, and show her some pretty pain to make her talk?
A grunt leaves me, and I hit the steering wheel, hiding my eyes behind my shades as the three exit the house.
They slide into their seats, and knowing something is happening with Perkins, we skip the donut shop and are pulling into the parking lot of the school in minutes.
“What’s our plan here?” Royce questions angrily.
“No plan,” I tell him. “We go in and figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Royce nods and steps ahead, Raven following behind him.
Cap trails a little slower, so I stay at his pace, meeting his stare when he looks to me. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
I frown at the building thinking the same damn thing.
“Let’s go.”