My breath hitches. I've never skipped class. I’ve always been that good girl that was more worried about the endgame. I needed the grades to get the scholarship. Even though my dad‘s a lawyer and we live in a nice house, we’re not rolling in the dough. He put himself through school and accumulated a lot of debt in the process. We’re not poor, but we’re not St. Anastasia’s rich, which is why I go to the school that’s somewhere in the middle. “I guess we should get going then.”
People skip school all the time. This is no big deal. Right?
Asher takes my hand and leads me out a door I never knew existed. We round the back of the athletics building and somehow end up in the senior parking lot. My car is four rows over and down a little ways, but Asher‘s bike is right here, waiting for us, as if he knew he’d be skipping class today.
"Here." He hands me his helmet.
"I don’t wanna take the bike," I tell him, staring at the helmet. Asher chuckles and I drag my gaze up to his face. "It's loud and we could get caught."
Asher shakes his head, a lazy smile lifting his lips. "We won't get caught."
"But what if we do?" Will it go on my permanent record? Will I lose my scholarship? Panic snakes around my lungs, cutting off the flow of air.
"Breathe, baby. It's fine." Asher pulls me into a hug and rubs my back. I close my eyes and focus on the sound of his breathing. I can hear his heart racing inside his chest. It's beating almost as fast as mine.
"No one will know we're gone," he insists. "But if it makes you feel better, we can take your car."
Asher lets me go and puts the helmet back on his handlebars. if I were him, I’d worry someone might steal it, but most people around here don’t mess with Asher for one reason or another.
"We'd better get going. Mom's shift starts at ten and it’s a twenty-minute ride.”
&nb
sp; I let Asher drive my car across the tracks to the side of town my friends and I don’t even joke about venturing into. He pulls into a trailer park that’s a gravel road, so bumpy my head hits the side of the window as he tries to swerve to avoid a pothole. I don't remember the road being this bad the last time I was here.
"You okay?" Asher grimaces as I rub the sore spot with my palm.
My head throbs but overall I'm fine, and I tell him as much.
Asher follows a beaten path, pulling around to the back of his trailer park before stopping in front of a faded yellow mobile home. Nothing about this place looks familiar, but the feeling of dread that washes over me has crept into my dreams. I know without a doubt that this is the home of the monster who abuses Asher.
"Shit,” Asher mumbles. He shifts the car into park and without saying anything rushes out, leaving my car door open as he runs up the doublewide‘s porch steps.
I’ve got this feeling tickling the back of my mind telling me to stay here, that something inside is wrong, but the fear of leaving Asher alone in a time of need outweighs my common sense.
I watch the door, anxiously waiting for Asher to reappear for about thirty seconds before unbuckling my seatbelt.
I run up the steps and freeze in the doorway. I recognize the woman lying on the carpet. Her hair has slivers of gray adding an elegant shine to the long honey-colored strands splayed across the carpet. A hand reaches out to me, lifeless, like the eyes that beg for help. My whole body shakes as I take a step closer. I bend down and touch her fingertips. They're warm. She couldn't have passed long ago, but there's no denying that Mary Anne, Asher's mom, is dead.
My gaze shoots up at a gurgling sound. Clint kneels over Asher, both hands around his neck. Asher thrashes widely underneath him, but even I can tell it's useless. All he's doing is wasting his energy and killing himself faster.
I watch in horror for what feels like a lifetime, frozen beside Asher's dead mother. If I don't do something, Clint is going to kill Asher. But What can I do?
The gun is still in my glovebox.
I scramble to my feet and run down the front steps. My hands shake as I yank the passenger door of my car open. I've never fired a gun before. I don't even know how to tell if it's loaded, but I would think Asher wouldn't have pulled an empty pistol on his stepdad.
I find the black piece on top of a bunch of useless papers, where he left it, and pull the slide back. I run back up the steps and towards Clint shouting, "Stop!"
Asher is limp under his weight. My heart thrums faster, fearful I was too late.
Clint stands to full height and chuckles. "What are you gonna do with that, little girl?"
I tilt the end of the gun towards Asher then bring it back to Clint's face. "Is he dead?"
"What are you going to do if he is? Shoot me?" Clint steps over Asher, toward me and I instinctively take a step back.
"If you come any closer, I'll shoot."