This was the definition of unfair. Josh was a good person. He was a good person who cared about his friends and tried to do the right thing, and here he was, upset and tortured and scared. And why? Because he had tried to protect the wrong friend. He had tried to protect a lying, scheming drug dealer.
"They have to stop," I heard myself say. "Sooner or later, they
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have to realize you don't know anything and they have to stop."
Josh crossed his arms on the table and lowered his chin to rest on them. With his fingertips, he grasped at the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves, pulling them up toward his palms and gathering himself in, like a little kid hiding from the cold. He looked so small. So scared. We stared at one another for a long moment, and I felt like I could hear our hearts pounding out a frantic rhythm together--an angry, confused, frantic rhythm.
"God, I hope so. I can't do this again." Josh was close to whimpering. "I really can't."
"I know."
I wanted to hit someone. Anyone.
Who was I kidding? I knew who I wanted to hit. Pummel. Beat with my fists until I was spent or he was dead, whichever came first. Only problem was, he was already six feet under.
"It's gonna be okay," I said, when nothing else coherent came to mind.
"I hope so." Josh shuddered slightly and squeezed my hand. "God, I really hope so."
In that moment, I hated Thomas Pearson. Dead or alive. I hated him.
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THE ART OF DISTRACTION
I walked back into Billings on Sunday afternoon to a gaggle of voices and laughter and an occasional screech. I smiled as I closed the door behind me. The Billings Girls were back, and it was as if they hadn't seen each other in two months.
With a quick glance I noted that Taylor was not among the revelers in the lobby. I greeted the group, which included the Twin Cities, Rose, Cheyenne, and a few others, and made my way up to my room to drop my stuff. Noelle, Ariana, Kiran, and Natasha all turned to look at me when I opened the door. There was a brief moment of stunned silence, as if they were surprised to see me walking into my own room.
No Taylor. Everyone was there but her.
"Reed! Hey!"
Natasha broke away from the pack and hugged me. She was positively glowing. "How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?"
"It was . . . fine," I said. "How was yours?"
"Good," she said, lifting her shoulders. "Leanne and I hung out."
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Ah. Hence the glow.
"Reed!" Kiran strode over in her tasteful shift dress and black heels and air-kissed each of my cheeks. She looked perfectly scrubbed, polished, buffed, and waxed and had adopted a new scent in her few days off--something flowery and soothing. Apparently, she was no longer irked over our last conversation. Unfortunately, I still was.
"How was it here without us?" Ariana asked as she hugged me lightly.
"Boring as sin, I assume?" Noelle put in.
"Like sin is ever boring," Kiran said.
Noelle smirked. "Touche."
"Okay, enough chitchat," Kiran said. "Let's do presents!"
"Presents?"