Maybe that’s why I don’t want to accept what Royal’s offering. I want to be strong enough on my own.
“Who cares?” she says, coughing out a cloud of smoke. “They got plenty where that came from.”
“That’s not the point,” I say. “I need that money, Mom. Please give it back.”
“What do you need it for?” she demands, sucking quick on the filter and planting her other hand on her hip. I see the jumpiness in her tensed body as she waits for an answer, but I stopped being scared of her a long time ago.
“To get out of here,” I say quietly.
She stares back at me, and in that moment, something passes between us, some unspoken truth. I’ve watched her all my life. I know her.
The realization sinks in slowly.
She knows me, too. She knows what that money was for.
That’s why she took it.
She doesn’t want me to get out. She’s not like Blue. She wants me to be stuck here just like her, tobelike her. She doesn’t just hate me for screwing up her life. She hates me because she can’t screw up mine. She can’t break me, can’t make me have a life as bad as the one she blames me for making her live, and she can’t fucking stand it.
“You want to get out, then go,” she snaps at last. “I never wanted you, anyway.”
I face her squarely. “Give me the money, and I’ll go.”
She stands there a minute, her hard eyes calculating as she watches me. “It’s gone,” she says at last. “I ain’t got it.”
My hands ball into fists, my limbs shaking with rage. “You spent all my money on drugs?” I ask. “The money I worked for since I was fourteen, that I got beaten up for, that I gave up homework time to earn, so I could get out of this town on something besides grades alone… You spent it on crystal?”
“I don’t do that shit anymore,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette butt with the others in her ash tray. “Just Alice. It’s not even addictive. If you tried it, you’d understand.”
“I fucking understand,” I snap.
“Yeah, well, I paid off my debt,” she says, raising her chin and glaring at me with a self-righteous expression. “What do you want, not everyone can be Mother Teresa. I do my best, but I’m not getting myself killed because you can’t stop thinking about yourself for one minute and think about the mother who raised you.”
“I raised myself,” I say quietly.
“I gave you everything,” she says. “The one time I got desperate and asked you for help, you turned your back on me. I was just going to sell those fancy clothes your sugar daddy bought you. Imagine my surprise when I found that lump in your carpet. I thought I’d hit the jackpot, and your spare key would be under there. But no. I pulled it up to see you had a hell of a lot more than fancy shoes in your closet.”
“No,” I say, feeling the fight drain out of me, the hope, everything. I want to sink onto her bed and sleep for the next decade. I don’t even want to cry. There’s nothing inside me, not even sadness.
“I threw a hell of a rager, thanks to you,” she says, grinning. “You should’ve been here for it. Not like you were much fun at my retirement party, but Bobby Dale sure took a shine to you.”
“Gross.”
“Don’t worry, you took care of your mama, whether you meant to or not. That’ll keep Bobby Dale off me for weeks. But don’t think you’re keeping that car, Harper. He got his sights set on it, and he won’t give up. Plus, I still owe him some for this weekend…”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Mom.”
She turns to me, a pleading expression taking over her face. “It’s so good, baby, you don’t understand. If you tried it, you’d see. I thought it was just something the kids were doing, but once I got my hands on some…”
“I’m going to fucking kill Baron,” I mutter.
“Who’s Baron?” she asks, her gaze locking in on me with eagerness. “He got some Alice?”
“He’s… Selling in this neighborhood,” I say, not about to tell her I know the asshole responsible for putting this stuff on the streets.
“Can you get some from him?” she asks, seizing my arm. “I need more, and I’m all out. Bobby Dale won’t sell me more until I pay off what I used this weekend. I can’t go on for long like this. I’m already itching for it, see?” She holds out her arms, where she’s scratched red lines into her white skin. I can see the glaze of hunger in her eyes, the need already clawing its way back up. That’s her demon, like Royal is mine.
“Mom,” I say. “I’m sorry you’re on this stuff and you can’t kick it. But I won’t buy you drugs. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You took my fucking money and gave it to your dealer.”