Free Thicker Than Water by Kelly Fiore

like he was appraising the situation. He smiled at me as he followed the guys. In the breeze, his blond hair swirled above his head like soft-serve ice cream. For a second, I wanted to lick it.
    I felt a sudden jolt of embarrassment, like I’d been caught with my pants down. Something about Lucas made me feel naked. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. Trying to hide my flushed cheeks, I pulled up my hood and hurried back toward the building. I tried not to think of the realities of what I’d just done—the fact that I was officially a drug dealer and that the money in my pocket was for pills that didn’t belong to me. Instead, I tried to establish some sense of moral high ground. There are fewer pills for my brother to take. There was enough cash to pay off my science lab debt to Dr. Schafer.
    A Wednesday feels like a Wednesday no matter what. But a Wednesday when you have cash in your pocket is a little better than normal. I found Dr. S at the end of the day. She was clapping erasers outside her window. She might be the only teacher who still used a chalkboard—even our school, tech-impaired as it was, gave all the teachers Smart Boards.
    â€œDr. Schafer?”
    She turned around. The cuffs of her jacket were coated in pale yellow dust.
    â€œCecelia, hi.” She frowned up at the clock. “I’ve only got a minute—there’s a faculty meeting today.” She gave me an apologetic smile.
    â€œThat’s okay. I just wanted to give you this.” I handed her sixty dollars. “For my lab fee.”
    Dr. S looked at the cash and nodded slowly.
    â€œRight. Well, okay. You actually don’t pay me , you pay Mrs. Fleishman, the school secretary.”
    â€œOh.”
    All afternoon I was so excited to give her the money, to show her I was good for it. Instead, I looked like an idiot.
    â€œHere.” I reached for the bills. “I can take it to her.”
    â€œNo, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “I think they just want to try to avoid money changing hands between students and teachers.”
    â€œYeah. I guess that makes sense.”
    I heaved the strap of my bag back up onto my shoulder. The buckle pinched my skin, bringing unintentional tears to my eyes.
    â€œCeCe . . .” Dr. Schafer said, peering at me. “Is everything okay?”
    I made a show of unzipping my bag and finding my car keys. “Yeah, sure. Everything’s fine.”
    â€œOkay . . .” She didn’t sound convinced, and I felt even worse.
    I forced myself to give her a tight smile before walkingback out the door. Suddenly, I knew how Dad did it, how he put on the happy face for me. All a smile required was defying gravity. It wasn’t nearly as hard as admitting how you’re really feeling.

8
    STEALING THE PILLS WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA.
    I paced in my bedroom after school, creating an ugly track in the nap of my carpet. I hoped it, and my nervous nausea, weren’t permanent. When Dad’s truck pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, I watched Cyrus get out, his face half concealed by the brim of his hat. Was it my imagination, or did I sense a searing combination of rage and betrayal?
    It was my imagination. He never even came upstairs.
    By dinner, Dad was out in the seed shed and Cyrus was either asleep, high, or out. Jane was gabbing away on the phone to her sister in Denver, so I sat down at the kitchen table alone and, between chews and swallows of stringy chicken cacciatore, considered the following:
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  1. I did the right thing. That’s four pills that can’t kill Cyrus.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  2. Let Jason shove them up his nose or in his veins or whatever. Who cares what that guy does?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  3. I’m really doing my family a favor.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  4. I really need the money for school.
    I