Jesse

13: Something that shouldn't have happened, did

13: Something that shouldn't have happened, did

            Got up. Took a shower. Ate breakfast. Explained to Harold he fell and hit his head pretty hard that was why he can't remember anything from last night. I had laid him on his bed. He grumbled. Didn't say anything. I was lucky. Too lucky.

            Left the house.

            Met Ian. Went to school. Not talk that much to Ian. Became a ghost.

            Think only of delivering what I knew was in backpack, stuffed into my locker. The final school bell rang. Got onto the bus. Now that both I and Emily have become friends, she has decided to continue to ride the bus. Put up with her nonstop talking. Said goodbye. Got off.

            Nobody was at the bus stop this time.

            Walked the Green Mile to the Smokehouse. Met Jo at the door; she hugged me, told me to come in. So. I did.

            Tom Boy and Fay were nowhere to be seen. J. was standing with Seth in the back of the living room, smoking, glaring coldly into the air. Ty was in the kitchen, smoking too. He approached me, and if stares could kill, I would be sprawled out on the ground right there, bleeding to death.

            "You got my shit, D Boy? You better say you do."

            I swallowed, blinking. "Yeah, I do. It's in my bag."

            He smiled. "Good, good…Let's go in my office then."

            His office. Hah. He meant the shit-hole that was his room. Jo followed us. I could see the worry in her eyes, the concern.

            We walked into Ty room's that was made up of only four white bare walls, an unkempt bed, a night stand, and a boxy TV sat on a rickety, wooden table in front of the bed. I noticed he still had his cheap porno movies scattered around with the Playboy magazines here and there.

            "Alright," he began, "let's see it then."

            I took off my backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out the three plastic bags full of the pure white cocaine. His grin grew wider, and he told me to put them on his bed. So I did. Now came the hard part.

            "There's also something else," I said.

            His brow rose. "Oh yeah?"

            "I no longer work for Black."

            "You no longer what, D Boy?" he asked, cocking his head.

            "I—I said, I no longer wor—"

            "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he bellowed in my face, angry as fuck now. "I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID! AND, if I heard right, then what I thought you said was that you don't work for Black, anymore, is that right?—IS THAT RIGHT D BOY?"

            "Y-yeah," I mumbled.

            "You—know what," he hissed, clenching the neck of my shirt with balled fists, "I could really fuck you up, right now—beat the shit out of you, but what fuckin' good would that do? TELL ME!!!—That's right, I'm sick and tired of you, D Boy—but you've been good so far…You've brought a lot of shit into here…A lot of good shit—but where else am I going to find someone else to deliver?"

            "I—I—""

            "TELL ME!" she shouted, spit flying into my face again.