Back to Hazel (Published)

CHAPTER ONE

© 2014 by J.K. James. All rights reserved.

Camden

It's gone. 

Everything is fucking gone. 

Vaporized, blown-up, or sucked up by a twister – I do not know. 

I stand on the cracked sidewalk, staring at the overgrown lot that used to be my home.  The small two-bedroom house is completely gone.  Only a heap of dirt and scattered nails are evidence that it once stood here at all. 

I should be satisfied that someone bulldozed the mold-infested shack.  But that doesn't erase the stench of mildew and dog shit.  I just can't tell if years of the rank smell etched it into my memory, or if it actually soaked into the ground.  I dreaded coming back here.  I knew I would have to drive by this place.  But now that it's gone, I don't know what to think.

I hated it here.  But that doesn't mean there weren't a few good memories in that old house.  I'm sure there were a couple decent holidays that we had when my mom was clean and sober.  When she was between boyfriends and cared enough to put gifts for us under the tree. 

Then there was my first kiss on the tattered recliner with Janine Dormer, before I became too ashamed to invite girls over here.  I made it all the way to second base that afternoon before someone barged in the house and scared her off.

Looking back, I don't think the best memories actually involved other people.  Casey.  Our little white and yellow mutt.  The only being I've ever known to be loyal.  Slept by my side every night, until he ran into the street and was hit by a pickup.

Except my memories of Anabella Page.  Every single one with her blew the rest out of the water.  Even the ones where I just watched her laugh from the opposite side of the classroom.  Which seemed to be most of my high school years.  But for a short time, that girl was mine.  Then, I fucked it up.  Thank fuck she went to college and moved away from here. 

Running into her while I'm back would be shit on my rain cloud.

Not that she even remembered me.  If my childhood home could be wiped out so easily, what did that say about my own legacy here?  Shit. 

What do I care? 

I don't.  But why didn't Teresa say something?  At least give some type of fucking warning.

I run my hands through my hair, now wishing I got it cut before making the trip back.  Not that I care about impressing anyone in this shithole.  I just hate how it falls down in my face.  Well, it didn't bother me, but now that I'm here, I know old Ms. Nelson will bitch about it – if she's still alive and scaring kids.  I haven't seen the school librarian for half a decade, but she still haunts me.  Every time I see someone holding a pair of scissors, I duck, afraid of them being launched at my head.

A car drives by slowly, bumping over the gravel and probably trying to figure out who this punk is.  My cue to get going.  If the driver gets a good look at me, then it's just a matter of hours before the whole town is talking.  Besides, this isn't about a trip down memory lane.  I need to get to the police station before Tanya gets out of school.

***

"Camden.  Fucking.  Mason," is the first thing I hear when I walk into the old brick building.  I look up to see Jay McDermott behind the deputy's desk.  Noticing that the other desks are unoccupied, I stroll in that direction.

"No, shit!  Never expected to see you come through these doors, man.  Though I don't need to ask why.  How's it going, Mason?" McDermott asks, standing up with a grin.