Page 19 of Rough Start

“Why don’t you ask her to prom?”

“Prom?” Kye asked with a snort. “I’m not really one for school activities, Carey. I’m barely passing my classes as it is. Trust me, the school is just as ready to be rid of their foster charity case as I am to be done.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Stan asked with more severity in his voice. “Instead of studying or applying yourself, you’re running around on a motorcycle with a gang of people who don’t care about you. Not really.”

“You don’t know the first thing about them. I have friends. I matter to them. I’m someone important in the Demons!”

“That’s what they tell you to get you hooked in. None of those guys care enough about you to act in your best interest. Are you on drugs?”

“What? No, I’m not on drugs. You know what? Forget it, I’m not your problem anymore,” Kye said and grabbed his backpack from the hook on the door.

“Kye, don’t do this,” Carey pleaded as she watched him start to pack.

“Listen to me, son,” Stan started and took Kye by the shoulders. “I know you want to feel like you belong to something, that you matter. But this club, this gang, is not the answer. It’ll bring nothing but trouble to you.”

“We hate to say it, Kye, but we can report gang activity to CPS,” Carey threatened, but her voice was full of dread.

“You know what that means?” Stan asked. “They’ll put you back in the detention center, son.”

“Stop calling me that, I’m not your son!” Kye yelled and pushed his way past Stan to finish packing.

“You’re not my son, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Stan pointed out, and even his voice was shaking with restrained emotion. “We don’t want to call CPS, but we will if we think it’ll save your life.”

“Go ahead, call them!” Kye challenged. “I called them six times when my last foster mother liked to put her cigarettes out on my back and arms. Took them three months to send someone. I turn eighteen in three days. Think they can make it that fast?”

“Kye, please,” Carey pleaded as Kye moved for the doorway. He stood looking down at the round-faced woman whose eyes were red with tears. “Please,” she asked one last time.

“It’ll be for the best,” Kye said solemnly as he grabbed his jacket from the chair. He ducked his head and gave Carey a small kiss on the cheek before pushing past her. She was still calling his name when he slammed the front door behind him.

The halls were littered with purple, green, and yellow posters promoting the upcoming Mardi Gras themed prom. The senior class, in particular, was bustling with excitement knowing that the end of the year was rapidly approaching. With March in full bloom, Spring fever was a way of life. The chill in the air hadn’t quite left, but early buds of spring were forming on trees, and the sunny days were growing longer.

Eliana, in particular, felt her days dragging. Each agonizing morning she faced the same reality that her father was devoid of morality, and Kye was nowhere to be found. Sure, he’d text occasionally. Usually from different numbers. Burner phones more than likely. He’d barely been seen around the school and when he was, it was likely he avoided her altogether. Knowing that he was busy driving more business through the Screaming Demons, he’d made himself scarce.

Kye hadn’t even been around for his birthday. Eliana had gone to the Duncans looking for Kye only to find he’d run away in the days before. Although disappointed, she wasn’t necessarily surprised. Kye was on his own journey now, trying to discover himself and build a life he could be proud of. She couldn’t judge him for it, but that didn’t stop her from missing him. He’d called for her birthday, but since then, they’d barely spoken. That was near five weeks ago now.

Eliana had spent her eighteenth birthday holed up in her room blasting music. Her dad had picked up an extra shift at the lumberyard and had completely forgotten. Not that she could complain. In one of his more lucid moments he’d realized how far behind they were on bills and put in an extra effort to pay them off. Maybe it had been the afternoon he came home only to find the heat no longer turned on or that the lights weren’t working, but he’d picked up extra shifts and stayed out of the bars long enough to get them caught up. He’d come home the night of her birthday with a bottle to celebrate. Without any patience to tolerate him, Eliana locked her door, turned her stereo up, and stuffed her nose into the first semester books she’d spent her savings to get.

“Who are you going to prom with?” Natalie, a girl in her composition class, asked as the bell rang between periods. They’d just finished working on a project together, and Eliana had to admit, she’d enjoyed working with the short blonde-haired girl. They’d had a few outings for hot chocolate ever since and became fast friends. It was a nice relief to have someone to talk to.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going,” Eliana said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. “I’ve got so much to do before I leave for college.”

“I’m really happy for you, Eliana,” Natalie said with a genuine smile. “I hope you’ll come to prom, though. Some of us girls are going stag if you want to ride along! I mean, we’re only teenagers once! You have to live to the fullest!”

“I’ll think about it,” Eliana agreed as she opened her locker to switch out her books for her next class. From behind her, Eliana could hear Missy’s boisterous laugh. Since being elected prom queen, she’d been prancing around the school even more than usual. Not that Eliana cared. She had no desire for popularity, especially among social royalty like Missy Deacon. Eliana couldn’t help feeling jealous. Why was she going to be robbed of enjoying prom because she didn’t have a date? How much longer was she going to put her life on hold waiting for Kye to man up and date her properly? Was he waiting around for her? No, he was living his life without her!

Slamming her locker shut in determination, Eliana grabbed her cell phone and dialed the last number she had for Kye. It rang a few times before he answered.

“Eliana, I can’t really talk right now.”

“Kye Driscoll, if you hang up on me I’m never talking to you again!”

A man’s ear-piercing scream of agony rattled the warehouse windows. Kye stood with sweat-soaked arms as he struck the man across the face again. His knuckles were sore, but at this rate, he wasn’t about to relent. The bruised and bloody man hung his head, both of his arms tied behind his back as he was forcibly restrained on the chair.

“I told you, I don’t know who’s been skimming the inventory,” the man repeated in a dry and scratchy voice.

“Six trucks in the last two months have gone missing after driving through here, Dean,” Grier said from next to Kye. Max, who was standing in the corner of the room, nodded, and Kye punched the man in the face again. By this point, his left eye was so swollen Kye was certain there was permanent damage.

“Please,” the man moaned in pain. “They all had full cargo when they left. I swear, Max, I swear it.” Kye looked to Max who waved him over. The older man handed him a handkerchief that Kye used to wipe his swollen fingers.