Free Renegade (2013) by Mel Odom Page B

studying one of the homework sheets that was bleeding red. He looked at Hector.
    “They make you go to school in juvie.”
    “Real school or juvie school?”
    “Both sometimes.”
    Hector’s eyes rounded. “At the same time? Amigo, that’s a lot of school!”
    Surprising himself, Pike laughed. Sometimes that was how it went with Hector. The boy could make him laugh no matter how bad things were. And considering that the Tulsa PD plainclothes guys were still in the diner with them and that Monty was going to be spending money upgrading his house security, things were pretty bad.
    “Not at the same time, buddy. Sometimes I went to regular school. Sometimes I went to juvie school.”
    “Which was better?”
    “Regular school.”
    “Why?”
    “Because there were girls in regular school.”
    Hector grimaced and stuck out his tongue. “Girls are loco.”
    “Trust me, there’s gonna come a time when you don’t mind so much.”
    “My sister is muy loco. She makes all the guys around her so mad, but they keep coming back. It is estúpido .”
    “That’s what you’ve said.” Pike turned back to the page of homework.
    “What was juvie like?”
    Pike was conscious of the boy’s body warmth next to his. Normally he didn’t like anyone invading his personal space, but having Hector around reminded him of how it had been when he and Petey were young. That was the only time he’d ever felt close to anyone. He didn’t like the way Hector’s being there, talking to him, kept bringing those memories back. Remembering those times was like juggling shards of glass. He’d put that old pain away.
    “Juvie was a pain in the—” Pike stopped himself short, remembering who he was with. “Juvie was a pain. Why are you asking so many questions about that?”
    “Because until you said it the other day, I didn’t know where you were from.”
    “Oh.”
    “Tell me some stories.”
    “Stories about what?”
    “About what it was like there. When you were little. Like me. My mom sometimes tells me stories about when she was a little girl.”
    “She probably has good stories to tell.” Pike only remembered all the foster homes, the fights, the harsh authority, and the prophecies of doom and gloom that everyone wanted to promise him because of his attitude. The way he remembered it, his distant attitude—his willingness to be a loner—was the only thing that had gotten himthrough those times. He’d remained a loner. If he never made the mistake of depending on somebody, no one could disappoint him or hurt him, and even lies didn’t matter because he didn’t believe anything anyone ever told him.
    “No, her stories are all boring. Except for the one when she had me in the hospital and brought me home.”
    “You like that one, do you?”
    “Yeah. That’s a good one. Very funny.”
    “I’ll bet it is.”
    “You should come to dinner some night and let my mom tell it to you.”
    Thinking that might ever happen left Pike feeling awkward. He didn’t like being around families. Monty had asked him over for dinner and even to Little League games on several occasions. Pike had always claimed prior commitments or a work thing he wanted to finish up. Gradually Monty had figured out that dinner with the family wasn’t going to happen and had let it go. Nobody’s feelings had gotten hurt. “Your mom and I both work late, Hector. I wouldn’t want her to have to fix dinner for me. She comes home tired.”
    “She can make my sister fix dinner.”
    “I don’t think your sister would be too happy about it either. Besides, like I said, I work a lot.”
    “You’re not working now.”
    “Only because I’m helping you with your homework. People depend on me to get their cars fixed.”
    “Like Mrs. Garcia.”
    Pike nodded. “Yeah. Exactly like Mrs. Garcia.” He slid the homework paper over to the boy. “Take a look at this problem and rework it.”
    Without complaint, Hector took the paper and reworked the problem. He