Run Bad Boy Run

Chapter 5

I slosh through the parking lot with a spare warm-up basketball jersey draped over my wet, torn clothes in a pathetic attempt to keep my dignity.

Thankfully, my old silver Toyota is the only car in the parking lot. The last thing I want is to face the humiliation of someone seeing me, soaking wet, half-naked, with blue hair that has been sprinkled with wet toilet paper.

Just the thought of what happened makes me furious all over again. Foster wasn't so happy when he walked in on an even messier locker room. And who got the blame? I did. He didn't even look at Hayden. All he did was shout and scream like we were getting ready for war.

"Fuck Foster. Fuck Cross," I mutter. If I get any angrier, I'll turn into the Hulk.

Which, I guess, turning into a strong, green monster that can destroy anything it wants to wouldn't be too bad. It would sure help me with the whole 'bad boy' situation. And I've always wanted to be in a Marvel movie.

In the distance, football players pile into the bus to take them to our rival, Carol High School, for a game. The cheerleaders are right behind them and the school mascot, an eagle, has its head out the window, fist pumping.

The day is exceptionally bright and cheery — the exact opposite of my current mood. I'm not going to be thrown around by Hayden. I'm not going back to a time like that.

I'm in control.

I pull an old sweatshirt that's been gathering dust from the back seat of my car and hastily replace the wet clothing with it before playing a voicemail on my phone from my mother.

"Hey sweetie! I know it's last minute, but I'll be at work late tonight. Can you whip up some food for you and your brother? I know Del-Mart's deli is open late! Thank you! I'll see you when I get home!"

If she comes home tonight. That can be a big mystery when she's "working late". I toss the phone on the passenger seat. Staying late at work — yeah, sure. Who is she trying to fool?

Staying late at work only meant two things for my mother: Either her boss decided she was his favorite employee that night or Stacie Chance would be taking another trip to the local bar. Which of course meant she'd find herself a new friend to spend the night with.

I massage my temples.

I don't know which one is worse.

When I call my brother, he informs me that he's going to go out to look for our mother. Maybe this time, she'll listen. I know she won't. She never does. It will be exactly like the last time and the time before that. Stacie will cause a scene and break down because the stress of being a single parent is just too much. That's her excuse for hitting the bottle. I tell Corry not to bother, but he insists.

"I really think I'm finally getting to her," he explains. It hurts my heart to hear the confidence in his voice and it only makes my anger toward my mother grow. He's been saying the same thing for the past two years.

"Just please be careful." I tell him for the hundredth time. "With all of this crime stuff you keep talking about... and Mom...doing what she does, I don't want you to get hurt. If the worst comes to worst, she'll find her way home."

Corry's exhaustion practically seeps in from the other end of the line. "You can't mean that."

Maneuvering out of the school parking lot, I think about his words for a moment. I think about my mother getting too drunk for her own good and trying to find her way back home, only to cause a scene when she walks through the door. I shake my head.

"I mean every part of it."

* * *

The drive to the deli is quick and the mouthwatering scent of the freshly baked bread snaps me out of every sour emotion I previously had. The small shop is relatively empty and across the street, the convenience store we talked about in our current events class is still swarmed by news, police, and civilian cars. Corry should be out there at the convenience store shadowing his officer, seeing his future-career up-close. Instead, he's looking for our alcoholic mother every second minute like he always is.