Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Things are hard at home?” I ask softly. “Want to talk about it? Maybe I can help? There are places kids can go when they’re—”
“Yeah, I know those places, and they suck. I don’t need to go into foster care, I just…” He swallows hard, sniffing before he adds, “It’s my mom. She’s a good mom. Really good. She loves us so much.” A ragged laugh bursts from his chest. “She just…sucks with money. Like, really sucks. She keeps thinking more is just going to appear by magic, you know? But it isn’t. And now she blew her entire paycheck on a big Christmas for me and my little sisters. I already took my shit back to the store to get the cash, but it isn’t enough, and I can’t take the kids’ toys back. They already opened them and they just…they’d be so sad. They’re still little. They don’t understand how much trouble we’re in. But this is the third time we’re going to be late on rent and the landlord said he was going to change the locks the next time we—”
“Maya, are you okay?” Anthony’s voice comes from behind me, steady and even, but so deep the words vibrate across my skin. He clearly isn’t pleased to see me being threatened, even if it is under rather…odd circumstances. “If you hurt her, we’re going to have a problem, okay? Step away and put the toy down.”
The boy glances between us, visibly shrinking as he takes a few steps back, letting the Super Soaker clatter to the pavement.
But then, Anthony has six inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on yours truly. As confused and hurt as I am by everything that’s happened tonight, when he shifts in front of me, putting himself between me and the boy, I instantly feel safer.
Safe from being robbed, anyway…
My heart is still very much in danger, a fact Anthony proves as he says in a kinder tone, “I heard what you’re going through. I’m sorry. I never had much growing up, but my aunt and uncle were both good with money. They never had a lot of it, but my cousins and I never had to worry that there wouldn’t be a roof over our heads. That sounds really hard.”
The kid nods, looking utterly miserable.
“But robbing people isn’t the way to fix this,” Anthony continues. “That’s only going to make things harder for you and your mom. Can you imagine how upset she’d be if she had to come bail you out of jail tonight?”
The boy looks up sharply. “You aren’t going to—”
“No, I’m not,” Anthony says. “But most people would. You got lucky tonight. I doubt that will happen the next time.” He casts a pointed look down at the toy. “Even if you aren’t using a real gun.”
“And kids have been shot by police for threatening people with toy guns,” I pipe up. “If they can’t tell if the gun is real right away, they sometimes shoot first and worry about killing a kid playing with a Super Soaker later. Then, your mom would be identifying your body at the morgue. Her heart would be broken, and she and your sisters would still be evicted.”
To my surprise, the boy’s thin shoulders begin to shake.
“Oh, no,” I say, feeling terrible. “Don’t cry. We’ll help you. It’s going to be okay.” I start to go to him, but Anthony puts a hand out, giving a slight shake of his head.
“We will help,” he says, his tone much firmer than mine. “But only if you promise never to do anything like this again.”
The kid nods, sniffing hard before he says, “I promise. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t see any other way. We need the money by the first, and I’m only fifteen. I deliver food after school, but that’s barely enough to cover groceries. There’s no way I can make enough for the rent, too, especially not in a few days. Even if I drop out of school, I—”
“You’re not dropping out of school,” I say. “That’s your way out. You’re obviously a smart, hard-working kid. Keep that up at school and one day you’ll have so many more options than you have right now. But not if you drop out.”
“No,” Anthony agrees. “That’s a non-starter, but I might be able to help you with something that pays more than food delivery. Mind taking off the mask?”
The boy hesitates, but after a beat, reaches up and pulls the ski mask off, revealing curly brown hair cropped close to his head, a narrow face, and sad, but intelligent brown eyes that have clearly seen more than anyone should at his age.
He looks so scared, so young, and I instantly feel even worse for him.
Anthony makes a considering sound. “All right. We can work with this. You look young, but not young enough to make people ask questions. What’s your name?”