The Asylum Novellas by Madeleine Roux

Author:Madeleine Roux
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

Freedom!

It was the first text from Micah in months. Understandable, given that he had been locked up in juvenile detention for the whole of the summer. Oliver stared at his phone, numb, tapping his foot under the table. The lunch rush had come and gone at the sandwich shop, the din of voices, laughter, and chewing rising and then falling all while Oliver waited on his dad. He hadn’t expected the text from Micah, but then none of his friend’s time in juvie made much sense to him.

There’d been no trial. Micah had pled guilty and gone away, but Oliver could swear he ought to be serving a longer sentence. First offense. Good conduct. He could imagine the answers Micah would give before even asking the questions.

Staying with Grams in Shreveport. Catch up soon?

Oliver didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. Whatever fond memories existed of Micah’s grandmother and her insanely delicious gumbo were now tainted. Sabrina was in therapy twice weekly, and Oliver had begun to wonder if maybe he should be going with her.

He flicked Micah’s message away, checking instead for word from his father. His knee bounced faster as he scanned the deli, the counter, the chairs, the back entrance, and then the sidewalk outside. An hour late was nothing for his dad, but he had only texted once to mention the delay.

“I get it,” Oliver muttered, fussing with his hair and running his tongue nervously over the scar on his lip. “Punishment. Real mature, dad.”

His father wasn’t at all fond of the idea of Oliver leaving for UT Austin, and that was just one more tally in the SUCK column for the summer. As soon as Oliver had broken the news, his dad had grown distant, cutting back Oliver’s hours at the store more and more, either to prepare for the upcoming separation or to make things harder on Ollie. Oliver had gotten the hint, picking up a few jobs on the side fixing friends’ cars, clinging desperately and guiltily to the cash he had made from helping Briony.

Sometimes the urge to pick up the phone and text her, asking for work, broke his will to never, ever walk the seedy path again. But each time he almost crumbled, he remembered that text after the car wreck.

Briony was involved somehow. How else would she have known so soon? Micah might have been drunk and stupid, but Oliver absolutely believed that someone else was involved.

The waitress took another slow pass by his table, rolling her eyes when Oliver said he was still fine with ice water. He had long ago finished the brownie he’d bought to nibble on while he waited for his dad. But it was growing obvious that his father was a no-show. One last lunch together in August before school started, was that so much to ask?

It was. It definitely was when you were leaving the family business—and New Orleans—behind.

His phone jumped in his hands, and Oliver clasped it harder, fumbling before bringing it to his ear, his dad’s smiling face appearing on the display as the ring chimed.

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