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I hold up my palm, my signal that I need more time. “Empty your pockets. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”
Cory pulls out a bag of weed and a small packet filled with white powder.
Phil leans in. “A gram and an eighth. Who’s your dealer?”
Cory looks to his friend, who shakes his head.
“Ah, come on. This will go a lot easier if you just tell us who you’re getting this shit from.” Phil crosses his arms over his chest. “You help us, we’ll help you.”
Cory’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’ll let us go if we tell you who—”
“No way, man. He’s lying. They’ll take us in regardless.” Cory’s friend curls his top lip. “We won’t snitch, so you can forget it.”
“You think your dealer would take the fall for you? Think about this,” I say. “This is your life. Your future.”
“You don’t know shit about my future.”
“Maybe not, but I know Cory could have a successful one if he stops hanging around people like you.”
Cory shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Maybe we should listen to him, Damon.”
“Fuck that, Cory. You know what happens to snitches, don’t you?”
“No one has to know who gave up your dealer,” Phil says. “It’ll be an anonymous tip.”
“I’ll do it,” Cory says. “Let Damon go, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Damon sucks his teeth. “You know what? I’ll handle this.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a small black pistol.
Fuck.
Phil and I aim our guns, fingers poised on the triggers.
“Put down the gun!” Phil yells.
Damon shakes his head. “Let us leave, and we can all walk away from this.”
“Slide the gun over to me, and we will let you guys go.” I try to keep my voice low and calm. Yelling at him will only heighten the situation. Once we have the gun, we can get him safely into custody.
“Put the gun down, Damon,” Cory whispers.
“No. It’s a trick. Now let us walk, or I’m going to shoot.”
Phil clenches his jaw. “We don’t take orders from a punk-ass kid.”
“Damon, don’t do this,” I say. “Give us your gun, and no one gets hurt.”
Cory’s eyes are wide as they bounce between me and his friend.
Damon points his gun at me and glances at Phil. His hands shake as he sways. God only knows what combination of drugs are coursing through his veins, making him unsteady and unpredictable.
“Come on, Damon. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Without warning, Cory rushes Damon, and they both fall to the ground. Damon’s gun fires and the bullet ricochets off the nearby picnic table.
I aim for Damon, but just before I shoot, another gunshot goes off. Searing pain shoots through my right hip, causing me to miss my mark. Damon’s gun clatters beside him, and Phil hurries to grab it.
Damon stays on his back, blinking up at the night sky.
