Chapter Twenty Four

My shoes clapped against the concrete on turbo. On every stride, a soggy sock squelched between sole and foot. I was moving as fast as my legs could carry me down the sidewalk, along the left side of the road. I didn't take time to turn and see if Blake and his goons were actually chasing me.

All I could do was hope they weren't. They were football players, every one of them, faster than me. The time it'd take them to get out of Blake's car was hardly a head start. It'd take them less than a hundred feet to make up the difference. I had to hide or get somewhere more public.

I couldn't waste time worrying about how pathetic I looked for running scared or if they were all making fun of me. Of course they were. They always did. My only hope was that their absolute best joke would land, a real doozy, one funny enough they'd all die laughing.

I couldn't worry about them, only myself. I was coming up on an intersection and I had yet to see Blake's car pass by. It meant they either turned around or parked to chase me down. I had to assume the worst. These were my options: I could turn left to hide out in the cornfields, turn right to cut across the road toward the gas station or cross the road directly ahead toward the next run of houses.

I couldn't make the right call without more information. I needed to know how close they were. I strained my ears to listen for footsteps that weren't mine. It was hopeless. Between my thunderous compressing heart; my beat-box heavy, labored breaths and click clack clattering shoes, hearing anything else was impossible. The trio of sounds could've drowned out a tornado siren.

I had to make a move, and fast.

The cornfields. They were the closest, but least desirable option. They were cruddy and secluded, which made them perfect and terrible at the same time. I could hide in them easily, but if Blake and his goons found me, there would be no one to save me.

I stole a glance behind me as I took a sharp left turn. It was the best decision I made, one that probably saved my life. I lifted my hands to my head and braced myself as Blake slammed into me. His was a Sports Center highlight reel, Lay-Yo-Ass-Out, beast of a tackle.

My hand shielded the side of my face as it bounced off the grass. My other options would've ensured a landing on pavement. Still, my whole body was in pain. I was too shocked and defeated to speak, cry, beg or even tremble. My body did nothing. It had given up on me. It was as if it had already decided I was dead.

Blake had my arms pinned down and was sitting on top of me. Holding me down was entirely unnecessary. It was time better spent figuring out where to hide my body. Blake gasped desperately for air on top of me. I desperately hoped it was an asthma attack. Sweat from his nasty eyebrows dripped down on my face. I would've preferred instant death.

"Oh, shit," he said. His chest, heaving violently. "You're faster than you look, Mad-Eye." I couldn't have spoken if I wanted to. My brain's subscription to Straight Talk had ended. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. You didn't have to run. I only have a few questions."

Too late, he already had. His words were a hollow comfort, they all but guaranteed he wanted me to sell out my friends. Even though Saylor and Faith both hated me, he'd have to kill me before I did that.

Aiden and Blake's cousin, Marcus, strolled up from behind. They were both thoroughly winded. Aiden was a stringy redhead who had a long and narrow face, an even longer neck and a non-existent chin. He gave off strong turtle vibes. I was pretty sure he played backup quarterback to Juice, which meant he didn't really play football any more than I did, not in games anyway. There had also been a fourth guy, but he must've stayed behind with Blake's car.

Blake lifted me up from underneath the arms and tried to help me stand, but I was a rag doll. Or a puppet. He gave up partway through his third attempt and left me laying there on the ground. I might've been able to stand on my own if I tried, but I saw no point in giving him the satisfaction of grounding me with a punch when he didn't like one of my answers. He checked my pockets and came up empty. He was looking for a phone, something to threaten me with or to force me to unlock. Even this day had a silver lining. How about that?

He sighed heavily. "You know I owed you that one?" he asked. It was rhetorical, not that I'd have answered anyway. "You're the power throuple that shares everything. That was for Saylor and for making my big ass chase your scrawny ass." Another sigh. "Look I only got three questions, then we're out."

I didn't answer, nor did I believe him. Not entirely, though I thought the rag doll thing was slowly playing out in my favor. Marcus and Aiden were giving each other wild stares like Blake's crazy ass had gone way too far. He had. The barricade through the window, now this? If everyone in town didn't think I was full of crap, this latest stunt would've probably landed him in juvie.

"Nod if you understand me," Blake said. His patience, wearing thin. He waved three crusty digits in my face as he stood over me. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

I was tempted to answer and claim he used up one of his questions. I still couldn't talk, but I wasn't afraid anymore. My emotions must've been in refraction. I reached my absolute limit for awful things that I could care about in one day. Blake did me the world's greatest favor by nodding my head for me.

"Question one I'll answer for you. Are we gonna have problems after tonight? No, I'll leave you and your little throuple alone," he said, "Question two, is Faith really trying to sue me for that window shit?"

I shook my head.

He clapped his hands and did a little shimmy. "Alright, there we go, easy! Did you really have to run, over that?" He held his hand up and wagged a fat finger at me. He was in much higher spirits. "Wait, don't answer that. Last one, uh... if Faith can decide to be a dyke, why can't you decide to be straight?"

Blake knelt down in front of me expectantly. He looked really impressed with himself. I wanted to answer his question to get this done and over with, but he wouldn't have been satisfied with my answer. I doubted he wanted one. The whole set up was clearly about getting Faith not to sue him.

Truth is, you can't get anything from a defendant who can't pay. Anyone who's ever been to small claims court knows that.

"Can I have ride somewhere?" I asked.

I figured the least he could do was drop me off at Josiah's.

#####

Josiah's house was the last unit of a royal blue quadplex. It wasn't much larger than Mom's, which seemed like a problem since two adults and four kids lived there. It only worked out because Josiah stayed in the basement and his sisters shared a room. By the time they needed privacy from each other, he'd be out on his own, freeing up the basement again.

It came as no surprise that their house was a train wreck. It wasn't filthy. They didn't leave food out or ignore any large messes, but there was so much stuff out of place. Remnants from each family member could be found in any given room. In the living room, there were Tia's knitting projects laid out on their tan leather sofa and the end table next to it.

On a small, yet out of place work table that never should've crammed its way in, Tío had his latest unfinished model car with all the tools necessary to complete it some day. From the looks of it, that day wasn't coming any time soon. Josiah had abandoned assignments all over the marble coffee table and the girls each had more than a few dolls lying around.

Josiah's little brother Marco must not have learned to take off clothes in his bedroom or else I wouldn't have seen so many of Josiah's old shirts laying around. To that, I could relate. Mom had tried her best to break me of the habit, but I still took off my shirt as soon as I cleared the door most days. To compromise, I either gave it to her directly or carried it upstairs with me.

Josiah wasn't thrilled about me staying with him, but he didn't turn me away or ask questions. Wordlessly, he led me down to the basement. He must've seen who dropped me off at his doorstep. He was in the grade below me, but he had a brain and two ears, so he knew Blake and I weren't on good terms.

That and he was the starting kicker for the football team. He was also the only kicker, but he was damned good at it. We weren't anywhere close to the same size anymore. I was slightly taller, he was much wider and stronger and these days, I could only pretend I was more handsome. I wasn't into my cousin. I could tell by how popular he was with the ladies. That should go without saying, but I only have myself to blame. I planted the incestuous seed with that funeral smooch I never should've bragged to Faith about.

The basement—or the spot, as Josiah liked to call it—had a pool table and a ping pong table as its greatest attractions. Its walls and the ceiling were tricked out with LEDs and any form of multi-colored string lights he could get his hands on, most of them Christmas. There was a disco ball hung up in the space sectioned off from where he slept each night. He called it a party ball because 'disco is dead fam'.

I couldn't argue that, but it was hardly a reason to change the name of something. The basement was cluttered like the rest of the house, though it wasn't entirely his fault. The space was still used for laundry and storage, so he was forced to plan his nightclub around it.

Looking around, I wasn't sure where I was going to sleep, but I would've crashed on top of the pool table before I slept head to foot with him. He must've read my face. He chose then to speak.

"You'll sleep here, I'll take the couch upstairs," Josiah said, cracking his first smile, "You don't want the girls pulling your hair or pouring milk in your ear, so they can watch Blue's Clues or whatever." I laughed so hard, I snorted.  He laughed too, but his ended in a sigh. "Oh, and just for tonight, right?" I nodded and he started to head back upstairs. He stopped at the fifth step. "And don't try to yank one off on my sheets. I'll know."

He laughed as he made his way up the rest of the steps. The comment bothered me more than it probably should have. What kind of animal did he think I was to have to issue such a warning? Also, if I had that in mind, why would he think his flippant words were enough to stop me? I cringed in fear, wondering if Tía told him about the time I had my first wet dream at a sleepover, even though she had promised to take that to her grave.

My face was locked in a special sort of embarrassment as I made my way over to his sleeping area. It was a small corner room made from two sections of drywall, nothing more. A lumpy queen-size bed with way too many blankets and not nearly enough pillows sat in the far corner, a tall burgundy dresser stood near the foot of it and a black wooden bar stool with an alarm clock on top sat in the corner closest to the door.

I stripped off my clothes and dove onto the bed. I would've slept in them, but the bottoms of my pant legs were still wet and my flannel shirt had dirt and grass all over it from when Blake nearly put me in a coma. I didn't smell the greatest, but neither did the basement. It had that lingering hint of mildew that underground dwellings often did. I figured I'd wait until everyone was asleep before sneaking into the bathroom. I knew better than to think the shower would be free in the morning.