Free Scum by James Dekker

Chapter One
    Every time it’s my birthday or my brother Danny’s birthday, my mother always says the same thing. She always says, “I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. I remember when they put you in my arms. I’ll never forget.”
    Here’s a day I’ll never forget.
    Seven thirty Friday morning. My dad is sitting at the kitchen table with his newspaper and his cup of coffee. My mom is atthe stove making eggs for me. I don’t like eggs. But I’m a vegetarian, so my mother makes me eat them so that I’ll get enough protein. The doorbell rings. My dad frowns slightly as he looks over the top of his paper at me. My mom turns from the stove and nods at me. Right. Go answer the door, Megan.
    So I go. As I walk from the kitchen at the back of the house down the hall toward the front door, I wonder who it could be. It’s way too early for it to be Caitlin or Shannon. We don’t hook up until at least eight fifteen to walk to school. Maybe Caitlin had another fight with her mother. When that happens, she comes to my house and we go up to my room and she tells me—again—how she can’t wait until the end of next year when she finishes high school, how the only universities she’s going to apply to are going to be clear across the country, so far away that she’ll only have to see her mother on holidays, assuming she even decides to go home.
    But it isn’t Caitlin at the door.
    It’s two men in suits. One is tall and bulky. He looks like he could be a wrestler, except what would a wrestler be doing at our door at seven thirty in the morning? The other one is shorter and wiry. They both have serious expressions on their faces. The shorter one says, “Is your father or mother at home?”
    â€œThey both are,” I say.
    Behind me, I hear my mother yell, “Who is it, Megan?”
    So I call back to her, “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you or Dad.” I turn back to look at the two men, who are standing silent on the porch. The shorter one glances up at the taller one.
    Then my mother comes down the hall, an apron over her skirt and silk blouse. She is district manager of a chain of video stores. She believes in dressing for success. She nudges me aside and looks at the two men in suits. I don’t know for sure, but from the look on her faceI think maybe she thinks they’re Jehovah’s Witnesses or something like that, here to try to save her.
    â€œMrs. Carter?” the shorter man says.
    Surprise registers on my mother’s face, and I realize they can’t be Jehovah’s Witnesses. They know her name. Suddenly I get the feeling that something is wrong.
    â€œAre you related to Daniel Carter?” the shorter man says.
    That’s when it hits me. These guys are cops. I can’t count the number of times I have told Danny how stupid he is. I can’t count the number of times I’ve told him, One of these days you’re going to get busted. I can’t count the number of times I’ve told him, What do you think Mom’s going to do when the cops show up at the front door asking questions about you?
    But you can’t tell Danny anything. You never could. The company he keeps—he thinks he’s smarter and tougher and faster than anyone else, especially the cops. But here they are, at our door, just likeI told him they would be one day. And now Mom’s about to find out what Danny’s been up to, and it’s going to kill her.
    My mother is frowning. She knows that something’s wrong. She says, “He’s my son. Why? What’s this all about?”
    I think it’s about Danny finally getting busted. It’s about him not being as smart and as tough and as fast as he thinks. It’s about the cops not being as dumb and as slow as he always makes them out to be.
    I hear a shuffling sound behind me. It’s my dad, still in his slippers, the