The next day the sun was shining and the sky was clear. I half expected bluebirds to swoop through my window to help me dress. The weather clearly had no regard for the blackness of my mood. I threw on a pair of shades and slunk down the stairs. My mother stood in the kitchen packing up her lunch for the day.
I slid onto a chair and grunted. “Coffee, black.”
She set a glass in front of me. “Orange juice. From the carton.”
Nudging my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose with a single finger, I peered at her over the frame. “Orange juice is a mood enhancer. I require all of my surliness today.”
The glass of juice was pushed closer. Its sunshiney contents sloshed around, mocking me with orange cheer. “Take it and thank me,” she said.
I lifted the glass and tipped it in her direction before taking a gulp. “Thank you, Mother.”
She leaned on the table and cupped a hand under my chin. “Try not to worry about Blue today,” she said. “You and your father will fix her up this weekend, and she’ll be good as new.”
Big Blue hadn’t been good as new since 1987, but I appreciated the sentiment and offered a weak smile.
“Need a ride to school?” she asked, ruffling my hair.
“No thanks,” I said, ducking away. A walk would help me clear my head.
I plodded down the sidewalk. Fresh waves of grief for Blue washed over me. My feet were unaccustomed to the slap of hard cement against their soles. I stopped at the bottom of Maple Street and glared at the hill stretched out before me. It was going to be a long walk.
Today was make it or break it for Meredith’s case. My plan was risky, but it was the only way to catch our blackmailer. I hoped Ivy would be on board. If she wasn’t, I was on my own. No place I hadn’t been before.
A shadow spread across my path and stopped me cold.
“Morning, Howie.” The banes of my morning commute stood an inch in front of me. Normally, I could endure Tim and Carl as a mildly amusing inconvenience. Today, I wasn’t in the mood for subpar banter and amateur strong-arming. A sidestep around Tim was met with an implacable hand on my chest.
“Please. Don’t,” I said.
“Where’s your lady cycle today?” Tim asked. He stood there, stroking his two pathetic strands of facial hair, and cold resentment flared in my gut. Big Blue had received enough abuse at the hands of miscreants; I wasn’t about to allow these morons to jump on the pile. Tim rolled back on his heels, and a snarky smirk twitched his lips. “Is she home, cleaning up her rust spots? Or did you finally put her out of her misery and take her to the dump?”
Rage blazed inside me, intensifying as I thought of Bradley, Lisa, and everyone else who’d jerked around me and Blue this week.
This year.
I was sick of being smart. Sick of being a pushover. Blood pounded in my ears, and all I could see was Tim’s face, cackling at his own cut-rate jokes.
A sharp snap cracked through the air. In the silence that followed, Tim looked shocked. He raised a hand to his cheek, and Carl frowned. I stared at my own hand in disbelief.
“You’re going to regret that, Howie,” Tim said. His face went white, my red handprint vivid against his cheek. “I’m going to kill you dead!”
A number of thoughts ran though my brain in rapid succession while my insides turned cold. I was shocked I’d actually struck Tim but even more surprised that a slap turned out to be my go-to move. It was a new level of old school for me.
“I’m going to tell my father, and he’ll destroy you!” Tim was still ranting. “And then I’ll kill you again!”
“Tim.” One word from Carl had us both stopping in our tracks. “Calm down.”
“Carl, this kid attacked me, and you’re telling me to calm down?” The rest of the red was returning to Tim’s face.
I inched away, hoping to use the distraction for a quick getaway. Carl reached out and snagged my collar in one lightning-quick move.
“You’re going to tell your dad that you couldn’t deal with this little twerp?” He shook me once for emphasis. “You want that getting around school?”
Tim’s look of confusion must have mirrored my own. I couldn’t tell if Carl was getting me out of trouble or making it worse. Apparently neither could Tim.
“What are you saying? We let this aggression stand?”
“Be the bigger man,” Carl said. I was filled with sudden love for Carl. “Teach him a lesson, and let him go on his way,” he concluded.
Wait, what?
Tim approached, cracking his knuckles, as I stood frozen in place. I had no backup and no escape. This was not going to be pretty.
“Hang on,” I said.
My tormentors stopped and stared.
“Is the W toll still an option?”
“Shut up, Howie.” Tim sneered and lunged.