The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(83)

“Can I help you?” he asks.

I have to be sure, before I go into this. “Are you Henry Cavendish?”

His expression becomes wary. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Sage Czinski. I go to school with your son.”

He actually takes a step back, like he’s about to slam the door in my face, and the old rage ignites. I stick my foot over the jamb, keeping him from a full retreat. “You’ve done enough running for one lifetime. He already told me what a worthless * you were, but I’m hoping he was wrong. See, Shane’s in trouble, and he needs your help.”

“Shane prefers that I don’t interfere—”

“Bullshit. He ended up in Ingram, defending me. And he needs you to be there for him for once in his life. He’ll have a court date and he needs an attorney. How long do you plan to pretend he’s not your responsibility? He’s your son.”

“You’ve said enough. You need to go.”

“So you’re going to act like this isn’t happening? Let him rot.” I shake my head, so disgusted that I don’t even have the words.

I want to scream; I want to punch him. I’d love to kick him as hard as I can, right in the nuts, and it’s a hot, glorious feeling. I haven’t let myself get angry in so long because I was afraid of what would happen, what I might do. But I’m standing here, furious as hell, and if rage was deadly, Cavendish would be dying at my feet. But it’s not; it’s just an emotion like any other, and I can be mad when the situation calls for it. I can feel this and not lose my shit; I’m damaged but not a monster. I didn’t murder my mother; I was just a terrified kid.

To prove it, I take a step back. “You really are worthless.”

Then I wheel and run down the steps. After dark, this place is spooky as hell, so I hurry through the gravel parking lot to the crappy restaurant that’s attached to the motel. I have enough money for a side salad and some fries, so I eat those while inwardly bolstering myself for the long ride back. I feel like such an idiot. Deep down, I hoped my begging for Shane would mean something, but his dad really has cut him loose.

Thanks for taking care of your mother, son. Good luck with life.

The waitress has been watching me for five minutes, looking like she might call somebody, so I pull it together and head into the bathroom to wash my face. I slip out the back when she’s not looking and get my bike. At least it’s still where I left it. No surprise, it’s not worth much to anyone but me.

It’s scary dark. I put on my reflective tape, hoping I’m not about to become a life lesson. Since I got myself into this mess, there’s nothing for me to do but go home. Shortly after I set out, my cell phone rings. A glance tells me it’s Aunt Gabby, and I don’t want to listen to a lecture while I’m trying to keep from being run over by semis, so I let it go to voice mail. Then I text her, I’m fine. Home late.

Hopefully that will keep her from losing her mind. After this, she’ll probably send me back to the group home, something I’ve tried so hard to avoid by being the best possible kid in the whole world. But now I just don’t care anymore.

My bike wobbles as cars zoom past me. I hope that nobody stops. And they don’t. People don’t care as much as they used to, or maybe they’re scared. I might be a lunatic or a lure, so when they pause to rescue a girl alone at night, six armed men will burst out of the bushes and mug them. Whatever. I wouldn’t get in a car unless they sedated me anyway. My principles feel like all I’ve got left.

Four hours later, I’ve never been in so much pain. My thighs burn, my arms ache, my back, too. Hell, even my ass hurts. It’s close to midnight now. I’ve got twelve messages and twenty texts from Aunt Gabby. I answer periodically so she knows I’m not dead in a ditch. That’s all I can manage at the moment, as the drainage area beside the road is starting to look inviting.

Eventually, I pass a green sign that tells me I’m ten miles from town. That’s an hour if I can pick up the pace. I’ll be home by 1:00 a.m. Jesus. I’m so cold I can’t feel my fingers anymore; it’s like they’re frozen to the handlebars. Seems like it’s almost chilly enough to snow, but lucky me, I get rain instead. The clouds open up as I pedal on, leaving me soaked and shivering.

I can’t do this. I can’t.

But somehow, pressing on has become the only thing in the world that matters anymore, like I’ll be giving up on myself and Shane if I stop moving. So I move my numb feet on the pedals, round and round. I haven’t seen any cars for a while, so I’m startled when a truck swerves off the road and stops on the shoulder in front of me. The rain pounds the pavement, glimmering red in the taillights.

If this is Dylan, I think I have to kill him. As I consider whether I can strangle him with my bike lock, my aunt jumps out of the passenger seat. I realize this one is silver, not black. Right. This is Joe’s truck.

I can hardly process what Gabby’s saying, my mind is working so slow. She’s yelling at me and hugging me, and saying stuff like Do you know how long we looked for you? We’ve been driving up and down between here and the motel all night.

I just stare at her and she sighs. “Get in the truck, Sage.”

She’s soaking wet too now. My teeth are chattering with cold. Joe swings down from the driver’s seat and I back up. If she lets him manhandle me, if he puts me bodily in the cab, I will never forgive either of them. This is the only choice I have left, and I’ll break into a million pieces if they take it away from me. I don’t care that it’s stupid. I started this journey for Shane, my way, and I’ll finish it for him, even if they think I’m insane.