Chapter 28

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Will is seething when we peel out of the parking lot, but all I can feel is fear. The terror is closing in, coiling around my body to crush my innards and organs until I can hardly breathe. 

"Are you alright?" Will growls through clenched teeth. 

"No," I whisper. "My mom bought Codeine and decided to walk home in the freezing cold."

I don't want to utter the ghastly possibilities running through my mind. None of them end well. 

"Should we go to your house?" Will wonders aloud. 

"I guess so," I shrug. There are plenty of routes my mom could have taken while stumbling home and high as a kite. I couldn't ask Will to just drive around for hours because Wednesday nights he taught English. "Don't you have class?."

"Nope, I canceled class for tonight," He replies nonchalantly.

"Oh, no!" I moaned and buried my head in my hands. "Now I'm screwing up your life too!"

"No, you're not," Will says. "I made the decision to help a friend in need. That takes precedence over work."

My heart swells with relief and gratitude for Will's selfless gesture. 

He drives slowly so we can watch the narrow sidewalks and ditch-lined streets for signs of my mom. 

Our trailer park is roughly seven blocks from The Blue Dart, but I doubt my mom's sense of direction was functioning correctly. None of the neighborhoods on this side of town are very friendly. 

One quick sweep of our living room and I know she's not home. 

Will kept the car running, so I hopped back inside and we start searching. 

We cruise street after street, but the waning afternoon light and encroaching shadows make it hard to see.

"What happens when we find her?" Will probes.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "She's not going to pass her drug test tomorrow, and this is a direct violation of her probation, which probably means-"

A sob chokes my words and I gulp down my worst fears. I don't even want to think about my mom in jail, locked up like a criminal. 

"What if you could get her into a private program?" Will asks.

"Believe me, if I could afford it, I would," I mutter grimly. "Long-term rehab is the best place for her, but the state won't pay for it. I guess it's cheaper to lock her up."

Will's hands tighten around the steering wheel, but he doesn't share what's troubling him. 

Suddenly a buzzing sound from my lap makes me jump against the seat belt. Gingerly I pick up my phone to see a number that I don't recognize.

"Hello?" I answer in case it's my mom.

"Is this Moira Stavros?" A gruff woman demands.

"Yes," I whisper.

"You're Nancy Stavros' daughter?" The woman follows up.

"I am," my heart pumps so hard I can feel it in my ribs.

"Your mom is a patient at Auburn Community Hospital," the woman informs me. "And you are listed as her emergency contact." 

"Is she alright?" I beg through the roar of blood in my thumping ears.

"I'm not allowed to disclose patient information over the phone," the woman barks. "You can see her or speak to her doctor during visiting hours."

"Alright, thank you," I grunt and hang up.

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