Chapter 2  

High school. Land of the free. Home of the brave. My own personal Hell. Whatever you want to call it, it’s not fun. You can call prison a tea party. It won’t stop people from hating it.  

Trash and bits of food were the focus of my vision as I stared primarily at the dirt-strewn floor of the cafeteria. I gradually made my way around to a table that sat just outside the doors. My tray crashed to the speckled tabletop as I slouched down into a plastic chair.  

I shut my eyes and leaned back, inhaling the cool, damp air.  

“D’you mind if I sit here?” someone said from across the table.  

I opened my eyes reluctantly and glared at the person that had spoken. A teenager probably about my age or younger was smiling down at me; his teeth shockingly white against his deep brown skin. I rolled my eyes.  

“Knock yourself out.” I grumbled, expecting him to leave.  

He pulled out the chair opposite of me and dropped down into it. Toying with the sleeve of his abnormally dirty shirt, he stared longingly at the tray of food that was lying in the middle of the table.  

“D’you want some?” I sighed, pushing the tray toward him.  

He flipped his shaggy black hair out of his face and nodded humbly, offering another smile. With quick hands, he brought the food closer to him, but paused before doing anything more and bowed his head, eyes closed.  

His lips moved in silent speech, but I couldn’t catch on to what he was saying.  

“What are you doing?” I groaned in aggravation.  

Slowly, he lifted his head to look at me in surprise. “I’m praying.” He explained simply.  

“To what?” I scoffed, shaking my head. There’s nothing to pray to. I added mentally.  

“What would you pray to?” the young man returned before digging hungrily into the pile of food on my tray.  

I waited pensively, trying to figure out what he was asking. Within five minutes, he was completely done with every bit of food.  

“Damn, when was the last time you ate?” I laughed.  

He pondered the question for a moment before calmly stating, “Tuesday.”  

Confused, I thought I had heard him incorrectly at first. “But…today’s Monday.” I pointed out quietly.  

“I know.”  

I leaned back in my seat and studied the teenager a bit more closely. His face was sincere but hard as he watched me back. His hair came down far enough to nearly cover his dark eyes. A worn leather jacket covered his tattered blue T-shirt.  

“Do you go here?” I wondered aloud—still trying to match his face to a name.  

“Nope.” He replied blankly.  

“Where do you go?”  

Shrugging, he cleared his throat. “Where ever I’m supposed to be.”  

Frowning, I stayed silent. I locked eyes with the person across from me. He had a look of pity on his face that worried me a bit.  

“Who are you?” I inquired, barely able to get the words out.  

“I’m Devon.” He stood and reached a long arm out at me.  

“Sammy.” I nodded, standing as well and shaking his rough hand.  

The high-pitched bell rang to signal the end of the period. My thoughts scrambled to recollect themselves. How could the period be over so soon? I glanced at the clock inside the cafeteria. It was true. Lunch was over.  

“I guess you better get to class, then.” Devon yawned, brushing his bangs to the side with the back of his hand.  

“Uh, yeah…” was all I could manage to say.  

“It was nice to meet you, Sammy.” He smiled brightly, turned and walked away humming.  

I watched him until he disappeared down the street. And even then, I strained to see where he was going. Long after he was out of sight, I remained outside the school.  

“Miss Doan!” a harsh voice ripped through my thoughts. “What are you doing out there? Get to class!” a teacher ordered shrilly from the cafeteria.  

Forcing myself to turn, I hurried back to my locker in a daze. I snuck in through the back of my ancient histories class. There was an elderly substitute teacher at the front of the room was giving a lecture on what sounded like the Aztecs or the Mayans or one of those deceased societies. He seemed too wrapped up in whatever he was rambling about to notice my entrance. I plopped into a desk in the back corner and tried desperately to focus. My mind repeatedly wandered back to Devon and what he had said. None of it made any sense, but I was determined to decipher his words.  

I sat in the rest on my classes half-consciously and raced out of the school as soon as the final bell rang. On the streets, I casually strode around in no particular direction, hoping to see Devon again. His words rang in my head and questions swirled around every statement.  

“What would you pray to?”  

The lack of an answer spread out in the forefront of my mind. What kind of a question is that? There’s nothing to pray to. How can he be so sure there is?  

“Sam!” Yaakov’s familiar voice came from behind me.  

I spun to see him jogging around and through the gaggles of people on the sidewalk. “Hey, man.” I called back. “What’s goin’ on?” I usually didn’t see him until I was back at the apartment.  

“Get out of here! Get out of here now!” he commanded, pushing me forward.  

“What’s going on?” I asked again, frightened by his abnormally urgent tone.  

“Hurry up! I’ll explain later!” he shoved me aggressively off into an alleyway. I stopped struggling and ran with him. Yaakov was never like this. I knew it couldn’t be good. It was just a matter of how bad it was.  

“Where are we going?” I shot up to him, hoping he would stop my wildly overactive imagination.  

“Who knows!” he breathed over his shoulder.  

A siren wailed obnoxiously from somewhere off in the distance.  

“Shit!” Yaakov swore bitterly.  

“What did you do?” I demanded as we turned another corner and sped up.  

“Shut up and move!” he screamed back at me. I sprinted harder and caught up with him on another sharp change of direction.  

The alley opened up to a deserted street with one parked car with its door hanging open. We tore across the street and Yaakov jumped into the back seat on the small car. I followed his lead and slammed the door shut right after crashing in on top of him. Before anyone could readjust, the black Dodge lurched forward.  

“What is this, you’re getaway vehicle?” I gasped at Yaakov between breaths, scooting away from him on the seat.  

I heard Wolf laugh from where he was driving recklessly.  

“In a way…it’s yours.”  

My parents instantly shot into my head. They must’ve known where I’d go. But the police? My dad definitely wouldn’t have risked the cops. He was probably still hung over.  

“What d’you mean?” all thoughts of Devon had fled from my mind.  

“The cops are after ya, kid!” Wolf said between chuckles.  

“Wh-What?” I turned expectantly to Yaakov, needing some reassurance.  

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He gave Wolf a hard warning glance, who only howled louder.  

“It sure as hell doesn’t sound like nothing!” I stared up at him with wide, angry eyes—trying to pull as much information out of him as possible.  

“You’re mom called the cops when you weren’t home when you weren’t home this morning.” Wolf cut in before Yaakov could say anything. “Your dad got hauled for attackin’ an officer when they showed up at your place. Now they’re out lookin’ for ya. They think it’s a murder or somethin’ by the way your dad flipped. Your ma tipped ‘em off that you’d probably be with us.”  

Mom. Of course. She’d be a hundred times more worried than my dad. How could I not have seen this coming? I shook my head rapidly to clear my thoughts.  

“But…but why are we running?” I felt so in the dark and stupid it overwhelmed me and turned into anger.  

“They’ll send you home!” Wolf said, staring hard at me in the rear-view mirror.  

“No! They’ll take you guys in if you help me get outta here! They’ll think it’s kidnapping or something!” my voice began to rise as I took in my own words.  

“Not if we get away, they won’t!” Wolf grinned wildly.  

“No! Stop the car!” I cried, pulling on his shoulder.  

We stopped painfully abruptly and I jerked into the seat in front of me.  

“No! Speed up!” Yaakov countered.  

“No!” I pressed the door open and quickly flung myself out of the car just before they jerked off. I heard bellows from Yaakov as they kept going.  

Sorely getting off the ground, I wiped my stinging and lightly bleeding hands on my jeans. I cursed, noticing a tear on the knee of them and more blood. Looking down the road, the black car had shrunk away and slowed, but I knew that Wolf wasn’t planning on stopping.  

Walking off the pain in my knee, I started on a back way to our apartment.