Page 86 of Reckless At Raleigh High
Am I supposed to nod or something? Tell him his bizarre and unorthodox way of doing his job is all right by me now that Jake’s dead? Fuck it, maybe itisall right by me. He put a bullet hole in Jake’s skull, and he saved my fucking life. It’s all over. Silver won’t even need to stand up in court now, which is fucking huge.
“The Weavings drove my grandparent’s farm out of business when I was a kid. They tried to salvage what they could of their livelihood once Caleb and his crew began forced sales in the area, but it was impossible. The Weavings ruined them. My grandfather ended up committing suicide to avoid the debt and the shame. So you could say I’ve had my eye on that asshole my entire life. Can I tell you something?” he says, leaning in close.
“I feel like you’re going to anyway.”
“I watched all the pieces fall into place with the Weaving case, and and it was obvious what was gonna happen. Caleb was going to wriggle his way out of that shit. No doubt about it. And that asshole’s son of his was gonna walk, too. Too much power and money changing hands. Give it another couple of months and both of them were gonna be released with no recourse for their actions. I wasn’t gonna have that. So yeah. I made Jacob trust me, and themomenthe gave me justifiable cause, I put that fucker down like dog that he was.”
Wow. Stone. Fucking. Cold. I hated this guy from the moment I set eyes on him, but looks like I had him wrong. Honestly, I have no cluewhatto make of him now, but shit. Jake’s dead. That’s all I fucking care about.
“I took care of the paperwork.” Lowell slumps back into the chair. “You and your girl, you’re free of all this shit. My way of saying sorry for how strong I came on. You can go about your lives and wash your hands of the whole business.”
Glorious, glorious relief. It feels so much better than the drugs coursing around my system. We’refree? That feels…damn, I can’t even describe how good that feels. “And what about you? What about Caleb? He’s gonna be out for blood when he hears you shot his precious boy in the head.”
Lowell smiles, absently drumming his finger against the arm of the chair. “Oh, yeah. Caleb. Heard this morning that there was an incident at the prison. Not sure what went down really. Some kind of fight over a toothbrush. Caleb Weaving was stabbed in the neck in the prison yard. Didn’t make it. Very unfortunate turn of events.”
Very unfortunate indeed. I can tell the guy’s super broken up that Jake’s father avoided justice by bleeding out on the snow in a prison exercise yard. He looks positively distraught right now.
Hah.
“And Zeth? What about him? He shot Monty.”
“Actually…” Lowell frowns. “I know nothing about Monty. There was only one body found at the scene. And…I’ve never met Zeth Mayfair in person. If I did meet the guy, I’d probably have to kill him.”
I know perfectly well what I saw. And from the odd, secret smile on Lowell’s face, he knows what I saw, too. This is the line he’s sticking with, though, and I’m not going to argue with him if he wants to give Zeth a free pass. For some unknown reason, the guy helped us out…and I’m grateful to him for that.
43
ALEX
Two Months Later
Emancipation’s a powerful word. It holds an ocean of power within its five syllables. For a long time now, it’s been a word that has taunted and eluded me. It’s held me back from so many things, because it was always out of reach. But today, a sunny spring day in April, I have finally been granted my emancipation, and it feels oh-so-bittersweet. I’m free today, because today is my eighteenth birthday.
“You know, I had the whole thing planned out,” I say, staring up at the sky. The wind’s still a little cool, but the sun’s out. Wispy, thin clouds slowly float from one side of my vision to the other, forming and disintegrating before they can even properly come together. Cirrus clouds. My favorite kind. “We were gonna drive all the way down the PCH to San Diego. Our first Moretti boys’ road trip. I was gonna take you to the aquarium there. We were gonna swim in the ocean and ride bikes on the strand by the water. When we got back, I was gonna take you to the pound and I was gonna let you pick out a dog to bring home with you. To our house. Fuck, I hope you know…”
How perfect it would have been.
How well I would have taken care of you.
How badly I wish I could change this.
How much it hurts when I eventhinkyour name.
I swallow hard, clearing my throat. Laying on my back in the cemetery wasn’t how I’d planned to spend today. I was going to keep myself busy. Keep on moving, keep my mind occupied until the day was over and done with, but all of those plans disappeared the second the sun came up. I got out of bed before six, careful not to wake Silver, and I left the apartment, my feet guiding me here all by themselves. I couldn’t have altered my path even if I’d wanted to.
“I think I always knew…in my heart…that you liked living with Jackie. I knew she was good for you, even if she was a bitch and she kept trying to come between us. And…I think I made you feel guilty for liking her. I’m really sorry about that, man. That…that wasn’t fair.”
When Ben first went to live with Jackie, I talked shit on her constantly. I used horrific terms to describe her that my brother had probably never even heard at that point. I called her a whore. I called her a cunt. I called her a cunt a lot, which I now regret. Jackie wasn’t a cunt. She was a threat to me, as I was a threat to her. And in between us, trapped between our shared states of anxiety, anger and fear, a little boy had tried to survive while being torn in two different directions.
No matter how scared I was that Jackie wanted to take Ben from me for good, it was shitty of me to speak badly of her in front of him. He was just a fucking kid, and Jackie was truly the only mother he’d ever known. I only have a handful of faded memories of our mom, and some of them are really painful, but at least Ihavethem. Ben was too young to remember her at all when she died. I hate that he didn’t get to know her even a little.
“It’s stupid to be so sad all of the time. It’s okay. I loved having you as my big brother. You were pretty great at it. You built the best forts. And you always knew what I should do if I another kid was picking on me. You made me feel safe all the time. I liked feeling safe with you.”
One night, three and a half years ago, after a particularly harrowing beating courtesy of my old pal Gary, I pledged to myself that I would never, ever cry again. I curled up on my side amongst the thin, dirty, bloodied blankets I slept in, and I let myself bawl. I was hurt, and I was in pain, and I was scared about what was going to happen to me, so I let myself sob into those filthy blankets, and when I was done, I said enough, no more, never again.
I broke that vow the night I read Silver’s email, where she described what went down at Leon Wickman’s spring fling party. I broke it again the night she was taken into hospital with rope burns around her neck. And I break it now, as well. I permit myself three tears that course, hot and quick, over my temples, into my hair, before I dash the wetness away with the back of my hand.
“I didn’t keep you safe though, did I? If I had, you’d be here. We’d be halfway to fucking Oregon by now.”
