Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

“Echo—”

“Coffee shop, Noah, not the Bates Motel, and I highly suggest keeping your opinions to yourself. If you’re lucky, I’ll come back.”

She jerks open the door, bangs it shut and leaves me alone in the room. I’m so deep in this damn hole that it feels like walls of dirt have collapsed and are smothering me. I reopen the door and a quick scan of the hallway informs me that Echo’s long gone.

Relaxing on the floor with their legs stretched out, Isaiah and Beth stare at me. Beth pops open her mouth, and I hold up my hand. “Not in the mood.”

Beth shrugs and returns to folding a brochure on mountain climbing into a paper airplane, but my best friend continues to study me. When a guy a year younger with more tattoos on his arms than he has skin gives the pity look, it’s bad.

“I’m sorry, man,” he says. “Look, we can go.”

“Fuck that.” Beth sends t

he badly constructed plane into the air. “You dragged my ass here, and you can’t make me get on another shit-ton bus if your life depended on it.”

“The phrase is if my life depended on it,” says Isaiah.

“Your life’s worth more. In fact,” she says, winking, “we should consider getting an insurance policy on you. Isn’t that what fancy, rich people do?”

“We ain’t rich,” he answers.

“I decided that since we’re here in Colorado, we are rich. Noah—” she snaps her fingers “—fill my room with bottled water.”

Isaiah smiles. “Gone dry?”

“Please, Isaiah. Have some class. We can’t drink before noon. That isn’t what fancy, rich people do. They wait until twelve-oh-five.”

The two of them never stop. “In or out, but I’m done listening.”

They stand, and Isaiah pats my back as he enters the room. “Seriously, we’ll go.”

I close the door behind me and sag onto the bed where I held Echo less than an hour ago. “We were fighting before you showed. I’ll talk to her. Straighten it out.”

Beth and Isaiah share one of those glances that say they see an oncoming train on the track I’m tied to, and they aren’t sure whether or not to tell me I’m on the verge of being creamed. “Me and Echo are fine.”

“Whatever.” Beth collapses onto the other bed and kicks off her shoes. Against the white pillowcases, she’s too pale. “How about you guys shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“Trash can in puking distance may not be a bad idea and before you ask, jackass, I’m sober, thanks to Isaiah. I swear, Echo has totally destroyed the two of you with her squeaky-clean attitude. My goal in life is to get that girl—” Beth covers her face with both her hands then moans like she’s in pain “—stoned. If I was stoned right now, I wouldn’t feel like this.”

I lift my head, going on high alert. Isaiah disappears into the bathroom, and the sink turns on. What the hell? He returns and places a towel next to Beth on the edge of the bed, a wet washcloth to her forehead and a trash can on the floor. “Sleep, Beth.”

* * *

Isaiah eases onto the other side of the bed, careful not to touch her as he lies down. Beth doesn’t shrink away from Isaiah, and she wouldn’t. He’s her closest friend, and though she won’t admit it, she hates being alone.

Beth appears small curled up, and that’s because she is. She couldn’t reach five-five if she tiptoed in heels. She’s also thin. Unless she’s at her Aunt Shirley’s—my foster home—food can be a rarity, and Shirley isn’t conscientious about stocking the fridge.

Isaiah and I stay silent and after a few minutes, Beth flinches in her sleep. Isaiah surveys Beth then whispers to me, “Turns out if Beth’s in a moving vehicle for over two hours, she pukes. She didn’t sleep during the trip.”

Which means Isaiah didn’t, either. He’s always searching for the threat that follows Beth. “Did you know she’d get sick?”

“Beth didn’t know it. When has she been in a car longer than thirty minutes?”

Her life has been limited...and so has Isaiah’s. “This your first time out of state?”

“Since entering foster care.” Isaiah rubs his red eyes. “Can’t shake the vibe I’m a criminal on the lam.”