Free Glass - 02 by Ellen Hopkins Page B

road seems necessary,
    I’ll let Bree get behind the wheel.
    One thing for certain, though,
    I’m not getting into Grady’s car.
    I roll down my window; Brendan
    does likewise and I speak past him.
    “Hey, Grady. Thanks for waiting.
    Come over here, will you please?
    I’d rather handle this in private.”
    Aren’t you going to say hi?
    Each of Brendan’s words is
    a stab. I heard you had a baby.
    Deep stabs, severing arteries.
    You look good, anyway.
    Ever chivalrous, that would be
    Brendan. “Hi, Brendan. Yes,
    I had a baby. And you look
    exactly the same. Grady,
    will you please come here?”
    Grade E obliges. I shut my
    window, turn my back on
    Brendan. [Why didn’t you do
    that before?] Bree? Lecturing
    me? Am I totally schizo or what?

T he Worst Thing Is
    Brendan knows I’m back in the monster’s snare.
    And what a coincidence. [Coin cide is two
    four-letter words!] Shut the hell up, Bree.
    “I didn’t know you and Brendan were friends,”
    I say as Grade E slithers into the front seat
    beside me. “I didn’t know he had any friends.”
    I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.
    More like business acquaintances.
    Grady winks, hands over a bindle.
    Even without opening it, I know
    it’s short, and I can feel it’s mostly
    powder. What kind is uncertain.
    The look on my face must say
    volumes. It isn’t the best
    crank I’ve ever seen, but it works.
    “You got this from”—I wag my head
    backward—“him? Did he know it
    was for me?” [You mean for Dad.]
    The thought brings meager satisfaction,
    especially after Grady says, Um, I might
    have told him. What’s up, anyway?
    I shrug. “We have a history.
    And it wasn’t exactly romantic.”
    [Nope, not with him. Never was.]
    Grady gets down to business. Ahem.
    So the eight ball is two hundred.
    Are you going to share a little?
    I open the bindle. Short, okay.
    Bree handles the clod. “Looks to me
    like you already took your cut. Yes?”
    His face flares but he has to admit,
    We did a couple of lines. Not much
    of a finder’s fee, if you ask me.
    “Not asking. Thanks for taking
    care of this. Now I’ve got to run.
    Mom’s on a regular rampage.”
    Grady pauses a beat or two,
    as if he’s got something to say.
    But then he exits the car silently.
    Good damn thing. Not sure
    I have the cojones (or even
    that I want them!) to tell the jerk
    off, but Bree most definitely does.
    Let her out of her box and no
    telling what might happen.
    I drive away without looking back.
    No good-byes for either of them.
    I’ll never deal with Grade E again.
    As I drive home, it occurs to me
    that this might just have been
    for the best. Not seeing Brendan.
    No, that will never be a good thing.
    What I mean is, the pitiful state
    of this meth. I’ll go out tonight
    with Dad and Linda Sue.
    We’ll blow through this awful
    eight ball. Then I’ll move
    on without the monster
    breathing against my neck,
    begging me to do one more
    little whiff. That’s it, okay.
    One more all-nighter, then
    I’ll quit cold [lukewarm] turkey.

D ad Finally Calls
    A little after four P.M. Guess
    troll and fairy “rested up”
    for tonight’s plotted
    devilry.
     
    I spent the day with Mom
    and “the girls,” shopping
    for Hunter’s baptism
    outfit.
     
    It’s adorable—a tiny white
    tuxedo, with dancing Poohs
    and Tiggers on the satin
    cummerbund.
     
    Afterward, we stopped by
    Pastor Keith’s lair. He
    pounced, a white-
    collared
     
    tiger, with God’s A to Z
    of baptism. Who knew
    it was so hard to
    qualify?
     
    On the way home I mentioned
    Dad’s plans for the coming
    evening, omitting
    you-know-what.
     
    The scowl in the rearview
    mirror said a whole
    lot more than Mom
    needed to.
     
    “Jeez, Mom. I’ve only seen
    him twice in the last
    nine years. Cut me
    some slack.”
     
    That’s double what I’ve
    seen him, says Leigh,
    and that’s way
    too much.

S till, Leigh Agreed to Watch Hunter
    Dad’s picking me up in an hour.
    We’re supposed to have dinner,
    but