Scardust by Suzanne van Rooyen

Author:Suzanne van Rooyen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

tech1@cer-ro:~$ reboot

Raleigh

“I know it’s a long shot, but do you think I could borrow your phone and call that number we got from your mom?” Crow asks while he helps me clear up the kitchen at the end of my shift. He can’t stop fidgeting, his whole body twitchy and on edge.

“I kinda forgot about that.” I hand over my phone. Bear getting carted away completely derailed me. I’ve got to get a grip else it’ll be me next behind bars.

“Thanks.” He slips the card out of his pocket and studies it, hesitating.

“I’ll be up at the house when you’re done.”

He nods, and I give him some space. Abi’s on the porch, sitting in Bear’s chair and sucking on a cigarette.

“Can’t stay away even on your off days, huh?” I join her, perched on the rickety steps at her feet.

“You remember when Bear first met me?” She offers me the cigarette. Sweet and sticky and definitely not tobacco.

“He peed in your lap.”

“And Weston gave me his shirt.” She gazes down at me. “You gonna smoke it or just look at it?”

“The tests are too close, but thanks.” Considering drug screening is part of the MarsLife physical, the temporary high isn’t worth the risk of not passing.

Wordlessly, she takes a deep drag on the joint, smoke curling out of her nose like dragon’s breath.

“West had bruises.” Her voice cracks. “I knew your dad was fond of the belt. Heck, my dad tanned Ford’s backside more than once, but I never knew how bad it was.” She joins me on the stairs, our shoulders touching. No static spark, no prickling sensation. Just Abi. She leans against me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “I was so mad at your father. I was mad at Weston, too, for letting it happen.”

“What was he supposed to do? Fighting back would only have made it worse.” And that wasn’t who West was. Sometimes I think that’s all my dad actually wanted, for West to finally throw a punch of his own and prove he had a spine. Dad didn’t understand that being a pacifist didn’t mean West was a coward. My brother was the brave one. It’s easier to do the punching than take the beating.

“You think if we’d done something, if we’d told someone, things would be different?” she asks.

“Like who, Abi?” I try not to inhale the sweet tang of secondhand marijuana smoke. “My dad’s military. The sheriff would’ve thought West deserved it.”

“I just wish I’d done something. Anything. Maybe then…” She takes a steadying breath, finishing the blunt. “Maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Not only mine.” She shrugs away from me. “We’re all to blame. Your mama, Madison, me, you.” Her words are knives and they’re going to leave scars. And this time, I don’t have the luxury of chemical oblivion to take away the sting of the truth. Despite what I said to Crow, sometimes I do miss floating in an un-feeling haze.

“We all could’ve done something,” she continues.

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