Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(25)

My mom glared at him.

“Are you the boy’s father?” the officer asked.

I knew my size made me look older than twenty-one, but really? His father?

“No. I’m his brother. Till Page.” I extended a hand to the officer.

“You live here?” he asked, eying me but not taking my hand.

“No, sir. I have my own place across town.” My use of “sir” seemed to convince him that I wasn’t a total juvenile delinquent.

“Well, your brother hasn’t been to school in ten days. I was asked by the school to make a trip out here and see what was going on.”

My head quickly turned to my mother. “Ten days?” I asked, incredulous.

“Till, honey. I’m just as shocked as you are,” she cooed, and it enraged me.

“Ten days?” I repeated on a roar that made her flinch.

The slime ball on the couch jumped to her defense. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Who the hell are you?” I growled.

“Till, this is my boyfriend, Ray Mabie.”

“Your boyfriend?” I barked out a laugh. “Wow. Congratulations, Ray. You made third-string!”

“Till!” my mom hissed.

“Maybe it’s fourth-string? I can’t keep up. Let’s see . . . Every Thursday, she visits Dad in jail. Then there’s the mechanic, Pete, she sleeps with because he pays her rent and keeps this luxurious roof over her head. The best part about that is that I actually pay the rent every month because she blows it on penny slots and keeping her nails done. Then there’s the manager of the grocery store I work at who insists on personally delivering groceries once a week. Don’t even get me started on how she pays for those.” I gave him a disgusted look.

My mother’s jaw dropped open and she stuttered for several seconds before finding the lies. “You are such a liar!” She turned to Ray. “It’s not true, baby. He’s just a mean and ungrateful kid.”

I could have laughed at her gentle tone, but I had other stuff to worry about. “I’m sorry, officer. I’ll personally make sure Quarry gets back to school.”

“I’m not sure that will be enough. Quarry was skipping school for ten days and no one at home even noticed. I’m sorry, son. I’m going to have to write up a report and send it over to social services.”

“Sir, please. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep this off the record. Wait! How about this? I’m close with Slate Andrews at On The Ropes. I bet I could get Quarry accepted into the before and after-school programs. It would guarantee that he got to school in the mornings. He’s only ten years old, but I’m sure I can get Slate to make an exception.”

“I’m not doing slave labor at that gym!” Quarry yelled from his bedroom.

“Oh yes, you are!” I yelled back, never dragging my pleading eyes from the officer.

He looked over at Flint then back to me, ignoring my mother completely. Then he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “I want proof. Get Andrews on the phone and make the arrangements, but let me talk to him before you hang up.”

“Yeah, of course,” I rushed out as I dialed the gym number.

“While you’re doing that, can you drag Quarry out here and let me talk to him for a minute? Perhaps I can give him a scare.”

“Sure. Quarry!” I yelled. “Get out here. And before you say no, I should warn you. If you make me take that door off the hinges, I swear to you that I will never put it back on. Goodbye privacy!”

Flint laughed from the corner.

Quarry loved his privacy. About a year earlier, he’d drafted a schedule that allotted specifics times so he and Flint both got alone time in the room they shared. I hadn’t wanted to know what the hell he was doing in there, so I’d just pretended he liked to read in peace and quiet.

I lifted a finger to the officer and looked down the hall to find the door cracked open. I smiled and went back to dialing. I decided to bypass the gym number and call Slate’s office number instead. We all had it, but it was only to be used in the case of an emergency.

Just as Slate’s secretary answered the phone, Quarry timidly made his way into the room.

“Hey, Claire. It’s Till. Is Slate around?”

“Hey, bud. He’s in the ring. Can he call you back?”

“I really need to talk to him.” My eyes flashed back to the officer chatting with Quarry. “Can you just take him the phone? Please. It won’t take long.”

“No prob. Everything all right?” she asked warmly. She was at least sixty and treated all of us as her own kids—even the *s like Derrick Bailey.

“Yeah. I just need to talk to Slate.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Her term of endearment was genuine—unlike my biological mom, who was cuddled into Ray’s chest, playing the role of a distraught and concerned mother.

A second later, Slate came on the line. “What’s going on, Till?”

“Listen, I need a huge favor. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate. But . . .” I began to nervously toy with my bottom lip. “Look, my little brother Quarry’s been skipping school, and the police are here, and . . . Is there any way you could make an exception and allow him into the program at ten instead of twelve? Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll work his hours if I have to. I’m just not sure what else to do to keep this from getting reported to social services. We just got off their radar. I can’t have—”