“Your grandfather’s house,” I say, swallowing hard. I remember what Preston said about him. “Is someone there with her?”
“She’s safe,” Colt assures me again. “I’m surprised you care so much. I hear you’re back to being Royal’s bitch.”
“I’m my own bitch,” I say. “And just because I’ve made peace with Royal, that doesn’t mean I don’t still care about Magnolia, or Preston, or you. I’m trying to make peace between your families, but none of you are making it easy.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” he says. “Unless you can raise people from the dead, that’s never going to happen.”
fourteen
Harper Apple
Colt turns and walks away, and Gloria pulls me into our class. I try to focus and forget all the drama. Magnolia is safe, and that was my main concern with the Dolce situation. I have too much shit going on in my own life to be worrying about anyone else right now. I’ll have to put saving Faulkner on the back burner, because I sure as fuck can’t save anyone while I’m living in a car.
I plan for that as I make my way through the day. There are showers in the gym, so if I get here early, I can use them as soon as they open the doors. I can eat breakfast and lunch at school, and if I stuff myself, I won’t miss dinner too much. I have enough clothes to get me through the week. The main problem is cash. I only have a few dollars, which means choosing between a few trips to the laundromat or toiletries.
I decide I can wear my clothes a few times before I need to wash them. As long as I rotate them each week and make sure not to spill anything on them, I’ll be okay. So I head to the drugstore after school and grab a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. I have to choose between soap and shampoo, but since I can wash everything with either one, I choose the cheapest bar of soap. I toss in a disposable razor and head to the counter, praying I have enough to cover everything.
I don’t, so I have to take the razor back. At the last second, I think of how much Royal likes me shaved, and how much shit he’ll give me if I’m not. I’d normally just tell him to go fuck himself, but I don’t want to give him any reason to be suspicious about what’s really going on, so I slide the razor up my sleeve and go back to the checkout. I’ve just taken my bag and turned away when a manager steps in front of the door.
“I’d like to see you back in our office,” he says, his voice hard.
Shit. I think about dashing past him and out the door, but I really don’t want a warrant out for my arrest for stealing a ninety-nice cent razor. I can probably talk my way out of it.
I follow him back to the office, thinking how fucked up it is that they waited until I checked out, making sure they got my money before they confronted me. I give the razor back and plead my case, and the manager gives me a long lecture about shoplifting and how much money they’d lose if they let every petty thief get away with stealing.
I know he’ll never understand a girl like me. He doesn’t understand that I already know everything he’s telling me, but I was too desperate to care. I want to fucking cry when he gets on the phone to call my mother. Once, when I was dating Lauren, we got nabbed by the mall cops for shoplifting. Her dad came down and made a big fuss and said all the right things, apologizing and joking around until the security guy was laughing with him. We returned the stuff and apologized, and he let us both go with nothing more than a warning, even though he couldn’t get my mom on the phone.
If she answers this time, she won’t come down and get me. She’s not the kind of person that security will joke with and forgive, anyway. She’s not a handsome rich guy making excuses for his wild daughter. She’s a girl like me. They take one look at her and see where I got it, see that we’re both trash, and they figure we’ve done it a dozen times for every one time they’ve caught us.
When the manager comes back, he sits behind his desk and stares at me. “Is there anyone else you can call?”
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to turn this over to the police,” he says. “I’d hate to do that for such a small item, but we take these matters very seriously. If you can’t pay for this, we’ll have to prosecute.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back on the white cinderblock behind me. I think of Syracuse, about writing my application essay and trying to convince the admissions board that I’m not a delinquent.
“I can try to call my friend,” I say at last. My pride can only get me so far. If I have to beg for money to get out of having a record, I’ll do it.
Fifteen minutes later, Royal storms in. I could have called another friend, but in some weird way, Royal understands my relationship with my mother better than anyone else.
“What the fuck are you holding my girlfriend for?” he demands of the manager.
The poor guy turns white as a sheet. “I didn’t know,” he cries, holding up both hands and cowering away from Royal.
Royal snatches the razor off the desk and grabs the guy by the front of his shirt, pulling him up from his chair. “I should saw your fucking balls off with this,” he growls in the guy’s face. “And with this puny razor, it’ll take a while.”
“Please,” the guy blubbers. “She didn’t say anything. I didn’t know she was with your family. Just take it and go, please.”
“Royal,” I say. “He’s fine. He’s just doing his job. Can we not make a scene? Let’s just go.”
“You better count yourself fucking lucky,” Royal says, dropping the manager back into his chair. “She’s a hell of a lot nicer than I would be.”
“T-thank you,” the guy whimpers.
Royal grabs his face, forcing his mouth open and shoving the razor inside. The guy retches, his eyes widening, and all I can see is Magnolia when he shoved that gun in her mouth.
“Royal,” I say quietly. “Come on. I’m fine. You don’t have to do this.”