9. Slade

9

SLADE

T he next two days feel eternal. I like my boss and the little apartment above the shop, but it’s harder to be away from Quin than I expected. He sends me photos and little audio messages throughout the day, which helps. I think he can feel the connection between us too. That’s nice. It gives me hope that we can make this work.

On the second night, I walk the steps up to my new apartment in a daze. I barely notice the buzzing in my pocket until I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes. In the silence of my new apartment, the sound is almost loud . Buzz buzz buzz . Someone is calling me. It’s probably Georgina. She’s the only one in my life who’s old enough to call instead of text. Or maybe it’s my boss.

I pull out my phone. Jake’s name is on the screen, along with his photo. It’s one from last Christmas, when Georgina arranged for him to spend the day with us in her trailer. He’s grinning at the camera in the pajamas I bought for him.

Why is he calling me? He never calls.

“Hello?”

There’s no response on the other end. Just silence.

“Jake? Are you there?”

Someone breaths into the phone.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

There’s a long pause, and then I hear someone whisper. At first, I can’t make out what they’re saying. Then I hear a quiet, “Help.”

“You need help? Where are you?”

There’s a long, ragged breath on the other end. Something is wrong.

“Jake, tell me where you are. Or if you can’t talk, you can call 911. They can track your location.”

“No,” Jake whispers. “No cops.” He wheezes, gasping for breath.

“What is going on? Where are you?”

“Warehouse. 9200 Blue Centre Boulevard.” He barely gets the words out.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

I don’t know how I’m going to get there. I jump out of bed and unbutton my coveralls. If Jake is in a situation where he doesn’t want cops involved, I can’t show up with a uniform that says my name on it. I bound down the stairs and burst into the garage. My new boss is standing by his desk, reading a clipboard. He glances up at me as I rush in.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“My brother is in trouble. Really bad trouble. I think he’s hurt. He’s at this warehouse about fifteen miles away from here, and I…” I drag my hand through my hair. There’s no way this guy is going to give a stupid kid like me a car to drive. But I can’t exactly take the bus. It could take me an hour or longer to get there.

My boss reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “You can take my truck just this once.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will make this up to you. I’ll clean the garage or your house or?—”

He tosses me the keys. “We can figure all that out when you get back. You go take care of your brother. It’s the red Ford out front.”

I dash into the customer service area and out the front door. An old red truck is parked on the far right side. I run for it, almost scraping the paint with the key as I fumble to slide it inside the lock. The cabin of the truck is meticulously clean and has that new car smell. I scramble inside and pull out my phone to put the address Jake gave me into the GPS.

It’s closer than I thought. Only ten minutes away.

Driving Tim’s truck is an adjustment after Georgina’s old Buick. I do my best to be careful, but Jake’s ragged breaths haunt me every mile. I drive faster than I should. I even run a stop sign because I don’t see it until it’s too late.

I arrive at the address in exactly seven minutes.

It’s in the warehouse district, which is nothing but a bunch of big square buildings and empty parking lots this time of night. The sun has already begun to set, so I can barely see the numbers on the side of the aluminum siding. I jump out of the truck and run for the door. It’s unlocked and swings open without a fuss. No one is in the reception area. The lights are off and an eerie silence permeates the air.

Where is Jake?

I consider calling him, but I’m not sure if he’s hiding or if he’d be able to respond. I text him instead.

I’m here. Where do I go?

No response. I wander around the corner. There’s a corridor of doors. I start opening them and flipping on lights. They’re just empty offices. Jake is nowhere to be seen. At the end of the hallway is a larger door made of metal. I open it to find the warehouse with boxes of toilet paper stacked toward the sky. A forklift is parked next to the entrance. In the distance, I hear quiet sobs.

“Jake?!” I call out.

The sobbing stops. “Go away.” His voice is clear and strong this time.

I follow the sound of his voice through a long hallway of toilet paper. I pull out my phone to use the flashlight, but I still can’t see Jake.

“Where are you?”

I turn and find my brother sitting in a pool of blood. A large man lies next to him, a knife sticking out of his back. His eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking.

“What happened? How did he… how did you…” I stammer, trying to process what I’m seeing. On closer inspection, the man is young. He can’t be more than a few years older than me.

“I don’t know.” He covers his face with his hands. His fingers are as bloody as the floor.

I take a few careful steps toward him. “Is there anyone else here?”

He shakes his head.

I crouch down next to the man and press my fingers to his neck, hoping beyond all reason to find a pulse. But the second I make contact with his skin, I know he’s gone. He isn’t cold yet, but he isn’t warm enough, either.

“Jake, you need to tell me what happened,” I say.

“I don’t know. He said he had some Molly. All I had to do was… you know. But when I got here, he pinned me down, and I was scared. I took his knife, and I…”

“You what, Jake?”

“I just wanted him off of me.”

My mind reels with questions. What was he planning to do for the Molly? When did the knife come out? How did it end up in the guy’s back? But in the end, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the dead body on the floor, and the scared boy who was just trying to defend himself.

I stand up and walk around the body. The blade is embedded in the middle of the man’s back—exactly where it would be if Jake’s older brother had come to save him and resorted to desperate measures.

I crouch down next to the knife. It has a black handle. I use the bottom of my T-shirt to wipe it down. Once I’m done, I wrap my fingers around it.

“What are you doing?” Jake asks.

“What I have to.” I step on the other side of the body where the pool of blood is, then back away slowly, allowing my footprints to leave impressions on the cement floor.

“Slade… I don’t understand.”

“We’re in Texas. If you kill somebody while committing another felony, they can try you for capital murder. You were buying drugs, so there’s your felony. They’ll give you the death penalty for that.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. That can’t be right. He was on top of me. He was going to...”

I crouch down in front of Jake. “I believe you. That’s why I gotta do the time, okay? If I say I killed this guy to protect my little brother, they’ll go easy on me. I’ll be out in a couple years. No sweat.”

That’s a lie. I’ll do at least ten years for murder, and I know that. But Jake doesn’t need to yet. Lots of kids get tried as adults in the Texas court system. I can’t let him spend the rest of his life in jail, or worse.

“This isn’t your fault,” Jake says.

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

Jake shrinks in on himself, his eyes hollow. “But you’re the good one.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are. And now I’ve ruined your life. It isn’t fair.”

I take a deep breath. “This won’t ruin my life, okay? I won’t let it. But we do need to have the same story when the cops come. You called me to come get you because you were scared. You were hanging out with this guy, and he didn’t want you to leave. When I arrived, he was on top of you with the knife. I took the knife and stabbed him in the back to save you.”

I tell the story to Jake again. Then I ask him to repeat it. We go over it five more times, until he has it memorized.

When I pull out my phone to call 911, I see a new text from Quin. It’s a photo of him smiling at the camera with a loaf of bread in his hands, along with the message: Look what I made for our weekend together . My heart aches as I realize he’ll never visit me in Austin. I’ll never get to hold him in my arms again.

I guess I always knew that loving Quin was too good to be true.