The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(64)

She studied the words printed on the page but didn’t sing. One of Alix’s fears was that she wouldn’t know when to stand or sit. That was the advantage of being in the back pew—she simply followed what everyone else was doing.

When the song ended, the congregation sat down and the minister, an older man, stepped up to the podium. Alix figured she’d leave after the sermon, afraid that if she stood up and walked out now, someone might be offended.

The minister preached from the Old Testament and the book of Nehemiah, which Alix had never heard of before. The sermon, about the ruined walls of Jerusalem and how they symbolized people’s lives, interested her, although she didn’t understand everything he said.

Alix was just getting ready to slip out of the pew when she saw Jordan walk to the front of the church. He was obviously back from summer camp, although he hadn’t come by the video store.

She tried to ignore the disappointment and the hurt. Seeing him in church wasn’t the only shock she received. Jordan wasn’t alone. A blond beauty came with him. The girl eyed Jordan like he was Jesus returning to collect His saints before Armageddon.

The two of them had handheld microphones. The music started, and their voices blended as if they’d been singing together their entire lives. Listening to their performance was more than Alix could bear. In an effort to exit the pew as fast as possible, she nearly stumbled over the feet of the woman next to her. Without looking back, she rushed out the door.

If she’d needed proof that she was deluding herself, this was it. Reeling, she ran into an alley. She closed her eyes and called herself every ugly name she’d ever heard. With her back against the brick wall, she slid down and hung her head.

Naturally Jordan would be singing in church with Miss America. And why not? He was a preacher’s kid; he’d been raised in the church. He’d never sat in a jail cell or stood before a judge. His parents had loved him, wanted him. She could just imagine what his daddy would say if he knew Jordan was hanging with her.

Alix squatted there, caught in a misery so deep she could barely move.

“Hey, Alix?”

A voice drifted into her awareness, and she glanced up to find Tyrone Houston, better known in the neighborhood as T-Bone, standing above her. He was a gang member and a known drug dealer. The last Alix had heard he was doing time. Apparently he was out.

“Whatcha doin’?” T-Bone demanded.

“Taking up space. You got a problem with that?” Normally no one flashed attitude to T-Bone and she could be risking her life. For a second, she wasn’t sure she cared.

“No problem. You interested in a party?” He gave her the once-over.

In her present frame of mind, Alix was in no mood for company.

“I got the stuff,” he said enticingly.

That meant he had a fresh supply of drugs. Probably meth or cocaine or any of a dozen different substances guaranteed to shut up the voices in her head.

“I could be,” Alix said. She’d been clean a long time—ever since her brother had overdosed—but she hated this dark ugly feeling eating at her gut. If she could swallow something to make her feel good, she wanted it because whatever T-Bone had was better than these awful voices.

The house was a couple of blocks away. Everyone in the area knew that if you needed a hit, T-bone would supply it—for a price, naturally. Alix didn’t know his sources, didn’t want to know.

When they stepped into the house, the shades were drawn and the room was dark. Five or six guys were lounging around and the air was thick with sweet-smelling smoke. Alix buried her hands in her leather jacket as she slowly surveyed the scene.

In one corner she noticed another girl sitting with a guy. His arm was wrapped around her and he appeared to be out of it, in a drug-induced haze. Alix looked again, harder this time. The girl seemed familiar, but Alix couldn’t figure out how she knew her. Working at the video store she saw a lot of people; while she might not remember names, she rarely forgot a face.

This girl hadn’t been in the video store, Alix was fairly certain of that. She was young, fourteen, possibly fifteen, and trying to look older. Alix knew the signs because a few years back she’d done the same thing.

Then it came to her. The girl was familiar because Alix had seen her at the roller-skating rink with Jordan. She was a church kid. The girl recognized Alix, too. She averted her gaze.

Anger surged through Alix. This kid didn’t belong here with a bunch of druggie losers.

She strolled to the sofa where the girl sat with her stoned boyfriend in a tangle of arms and legs. Alix sat down on the sofa arm and glared at them.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded of the girl.

The teenager glared back at Alix, her eyes full of defiance. “Same as you.”

The guy she was with rolled his head and pointed at Alix. “Who’s this, Lori?”

Yes, Alix remembered her now. Her name was Lori and she’d come with a couple of friends. Roller skating with church kids one month, doing drugs with criminals and losers the next. Quite a contrast.

Lori stared up at Alix, her face hard and her eyes cold. “This,” she said, sneering, “is no one.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alix said as she came to her feet. “Sorry, we have to go now.” She grabbed Lori by the arm. The girl protested but let Alix pull her up.

“What are you doing?” she cried.