All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(61)

Becca, where r u?

BECCA WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

Is he with you?

What’s going on?

Text meeeeeeeeeee

I’m not waiting any longer, I’m going to look for him.

“I finally had to text him,” Becca said, puffing her newly-lit cigarette and shaking her head. “Poor sap. Sara practically had to handcuff him to keep him from racing around town. She had this funny idea you might need to talk to someone else first.”

My cheeks heated. Becca’s reply to Austin had been succinct: Hold your fucking horses. At that point, the text conversation had ended.

“This has nothing to do with him,” I said.

“That would be news to him. And to Sara.”

“I got . . . I got a little worked up. I thought maybe he had told Sara—”

“That your piece of shit Dad knocks you around?”

“He doesn’t—” The lie started automatically. Then I stopped and looked out the window.

“Vie, we’re your friends. We see you every day. You didn’t really think we didn’t know?”

“It’s not anyone’s business. Austin—”

“—is worried as fuck about you, and for the record, rightly so.”

“Well, Sara shouldn’t—”

“—shouldn’t have done what any half-decent person would have done ages ago?”

“If that’s what you think, why aren’t you driving me back to Vehpese?”

“Because I’m your friend. Do all those muscles get in the way of your thinking? Is it like steroids, or something, messing up your brain?”

“Becca,” I said, and my voice broke before I gathered up all the pieces again. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you can run away to Mexico and sell your body.”

“Um. Ok.”

“Or you can go back to Vehpese and see how we can work this out.”

“I feel like there’s probably a range of options in between those two—”

“Nope. That’s it.”

I slumped in my seat.

“So,” Becca said. “Billings airport? I bet you could be on the streets in Tijuana, turning tricks by the end of the day.”

“Turning tricks?”

“A boy’s got to eat.”

“You are the absolute worst.”

“Is that a no to Mexico?”

“I’ve been through this before, Becca. Social workers, DFS, foster homes, all that shit. I won’t do it again.”

“Ok.”

I pinched my brow. The glass, cold against my cheek, helped clear my head a little, and it was easier to breathe. Turning Becca’s phone in my hands, I tried to pull back and think about this from another direction, but everywhere I looked, it was the same. It was going to be the same again, and I could feel that hole opening inside me, and I could feel everything good spilling out again, and I knew that, even though I couldn’t feel it now, the pain was going to come, and I’d never be able to swim against that dark current.

“Can I call Austin?”

“Please, God, yes,” she said.

So I dialed, and the phone picked up on the first ring. “Becca? Where is he? Is he ok?”

The worry in his voice made me sick. “He’s fine.”

“Vie? Jesus Christ, what the fuck were you thinking?” His struggle to control his voice was obvious. “I mean, do you have any idea how worried I was? Not to mention Sara, or Becca, or—”

“I get it. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Are you ok?”

“Not really.”

“Ok, listen. You can’t—I mean, you shouldn’t—I mean, please come back so we can talk about this. Please think about how it would affect everyone if you—if you—” A genuine note of panic had entered his voice.

“I’m not. I mean, I wouldn’t. But I can’t go back, Austin. I’m not going to a foster home. I’m not—”

“You don’t have to. You can live here.” The words spilled out of the phone faster than I could believe. “Or we’ll find a way to get you an apartment, or you can live with Becca. We’ll figure something out.”

“Austin.”

“You’re coming to dinner. You promised. You promised you’d come to dinner today, and you’re not going to break your promise.”

“Austin.”

“I’m not mad about last night. I’m not. Colton told me you had to take someone home, someone who was sick, and I understand. I’m not mad. And I didn’t tell Sara. I swear to God, I didn’t tell her anything, and I wouldn’t. I know you told me to stay out of it, Vie, and I promise you, I didn’t say a word. Please come . . . please come to dinner.”

“Austin, I—” I squeezed my eyes shut. He knows. He knows the truth about you, he knows you’re a piece of shit, he knows all of it, and now that he knows, he’ll hate you. Not today, but one day, and he’ll leave.

Then Becca jabbed me in the temple, and when I looked over at her, she was fixing me with a furious glare.

In a harsh whisper, she said, “If he’s still talking to you after all the shit you’ve put him through, you better goddamn well tell that boy you’re sorry for scaring him, and you tell him you’ll be at that fucking dinner, and if you don’t, I will rip your balls off, and then we’ll see if you can turn any tricks in Tijuana.”