Free Girl Code by LD Davis

“So, he’s been a cranky bastard lately. You can hardly blame him. The whole life he wanted went up in smoke. “
    “I know, but…” I said as I began to move papers around on his desk. “He’s been weird. Sleeping at odd hours for long periods of time, disappearing for hours, and now hanging out with Frick and Frack.”
    I could sense Leslie’s reluctance as she hovered by the door, but then she sighed and moved into the room and started rooting through the stand next to Tack’s bed.
    “Emmy did look like she had just smoked a whole lot of something,” Leslie admitted. “But I don’t think a little bit of weed is anything to be worried about.”
    I ignored her and made fast work of carefully rooting through my brother’s things. There was a time in my life when I would have never considered doing such a thing. I respected Tack’s privacy and he respected mine. He didn’t go snooping through my diary or anything, and I never even went into his room without his permission, but I couldn’t ignore my instincts and I had a strong feeling I wouldn’t get answers if I simply asked him questions.
    After a few minutes of searching, I was starting to believe I was simply paranoid. Maybe my brother was just going through a hard time. It didn’t mean he was a full-time drug addict.
    And then I found a small pencil bag in Tack’s desk. There weren’t any pencils in it. No erasers, no pens, and no glue sticks or staples.
    “Shit,” I whispered as I gingerly picked out a skinny syringe.
    “Shit,” Leslie said with wide eyes. She rushed over and snatched the pencil bag from me. “Shit.”
    “Shit,” I repeated when Leslie held up a tourniquet.
    “Shit,” she said when she held up a spoon and a lighter.
    “We should stop saying shit,” I whispered, swallowing back a large lump that had formed in my throat.
    “Yeah,” she said. “But shit .”
    “Yeah.”
    “This would almost be funny if it wasn’t,” she said. “I mean, it just seems so cliché—the needle, the spoon and lighter.” She plucked at a small candle on top of the desk. “A freakin’ candle.”
    I looked at Leslie. She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock and concern.
    “Tabby,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
    Hysteria snuck in through my open mouth, because even though I should have been anything but amused, I started to laugh. I should have been bawling my eyes out or rushing downstairs to show my mom and dad what their precious baby boy had been doing, but I didn’t. I stood there, laughing without any control. Leslie watched on nervously as I turned red and doubled over, laughing hard as I clutched the ‘pencil’ bag in my hand.
    “Okay,” Leslie said carefully. “I’m starting to wonder who the addict is here,” she said as she gingerly pried the bag out of my fingers.
    For some reason, I found that even funnier. I dropped to my knees, laughing and holding onto my aching midsection.
    “Come on,” Leslie whispered, trying to pull me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here before your mom comes up here and goes all nutso on us for being in the special boy’s room.”
    I got to my feet as my laughter began to die down some. I was still laughing, but at least I was able to breathe again. Leslie started to put the bag back in the desk, but I stopped her. I shoved the drawer closed but held onto the bag.
    “Is that a good idea?” she whispered.
    “I don’t know.” I shrugged, my laughter gone.
    Leslie hugged me tightly. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to.”
    “Thank you,” I breathed, truly thankful that she was there with me.
    Tack didn’t come home that night or most of the day on Saturday. At least he checked in with my mom. He told her that he was at a friend’s house, but I didn’t know where he was for sure. I did know that Emmy and Mayson were with him because when I tried calling either of them, both parents said they were at each other’s houses.
    Leslie stayed the night, and I really