Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 9

 T.M. Frazier

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She looked up at me, obviously not as amused by my hilarity as I was. “Just need you to tell me where the fuck Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum went and anything within reason is yours,” I pushed.
“And you’re going to kill them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I’m gonna make ’em Tweedle-Dead.”
* * *
DRE
“Dad?” I asked in a whisper. Surprisingly, when I told Preppy I wanted to use his phone, he’d handed it over without hesitation. His only stipulation was that I make the call on speakerphone so he could make sure I wasn’t calling Conner or Eric to warn them off. It was impossible even if I wanted to do it, considering neither of them had cell phones.
“Andrea? Is that you? What time is it?” my dad asked, clearing his throat. I didn’t answer, and not just because it didn’t matter but because I had no idea. All I knew was that it was really late.
I just hoped it wasn’t TOO late.
“Daddy, I’m coming home.”
“Andrea,” he said, followed by a sigh of frustration. “Do you still have the ticket I sent you?”
“Shit,” I said as panic washed over me. My ticket was in my bra, which was now somewhere below the water tower. “I don’t…” I started, when my dad interrupted.
“I’m not sending you another one, Andrea. This is your last chance. I love you, but you need help and I can get you help, but you have to be on that bus.”
I’d find that ticket if it was the last fucking thing I’d ever do. “I will be. I promise. I’m coming home. For real this time.”
“No more lies.”
“No more lies,” I choked out.
“Andrea, one more thing,” he warned. “If I go to the bus station to pick you up and you’re not there, then this is done. Over. No more excuses. I’m too tired for any more excuses. No more calls. No more chances. If you’re not on that bus, then this isn’t your home anymore, and I’m not your family.” The threat was a well deserved one. The result of a classic case of the-girl-who-cried-heroin, one too many times.
“I promise. I’ll be there,” I agreed. I looked over at Preppy, who held his hand out for the phone, an unreadable expression on his face. “I gotta go. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“So, that was one request. What’s next?” Preppy asked, taking the phone, shoving it into his pocket. He flashed me a smile that told me he was up to something. It was all too easy. One minute, he wanted to kill me and the next, he wanted to help me? Maybe he had no intentions of letting me go.
It didn’t matter. I meant what I’d told my dad. I was going to be on that bus this time. No matter what.
Even if it meant I had to kill the man who’d saved my life.
CHAPTER FIVE
PREPPY

Dre’s demands were not at all what I’d thought they’d be. She didn’t even ask for money, and I was so sure she would that I’d have bet my left nut on it. First, she wanted to use my phone to call her dad, which I handed her without hesitation, as a sign of trust. “I need you to keep one of them alive. Conner,” she said, looking to her hands and fidgeting with her fingers.
“Why?” I asked, irritated by her request. “He your boyfriend or something.”
“No,” was all she said.
“Well, he had to do something to earn that kind of loyalty.”
“He didn’t. But I did. I owe him,” she said.
I didn’t push her for more because it didn’t matter. I helped her down from the tower, found her clothes, shoes, and retrieved her bus ticket from a tree. I even gave her a ride to the bus station to boot because I’m a chivalrous motherfucker.
Even if it was all bullshit.
The only place I was planning on letting her go to, was to lead me back to the other two douchebags. Asking for me to spare Conners life showed me that she had some sort of loyalty toward him, so when she said that they were probably heading to Coral Pines to meet with their dealer, it wasn’t exactly like I was going to take her word for it. She could’ve been sending me right into a trap.
The second we pulled up to the station, Dre opened the door before it was even in park. “Hey!” I said, thinking she was about to jump out and make a run for it, when she leaned over and puked onto the pavement.
H withdrawals are no joke.
When she was done heaving she sat up slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She got out, and I leaned over the seats to shut the door behind her. She turned around to me and flashed me a sad smile as she stood there clutching her only possession, her bus ticket, to her chest like it was a precious newborn baby.
“Is your dad a good guy?” I suddenly asked, surprising even myself. “A good dad? Like does he spend time with you and take you places? He put food on the table and send you to school?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“There are a lot of people out there whose dad’s don’t do any of that, or wouldn’t give a shit about getting their junkie daughter home, so when you get there, try and go easy on the guy,” I said, as if I really believed she was going home and not heading back to the male drugged-out-version of the Olsen Twins.
Maybe I did believe it. There was only one way to find out.
She smoothed her hair out of her eyes. “Maybe you’re Dr. Phil after all,” she said, before disappearing under the shadows of the awning, heading toward the empty bus benches.
If she felt as bad as she looked, and she really was getting on that bus, then it was going to be one fuck-of-a-long bus ride to wherever it was she was going.
“Not fucking likely,” I muttered as I pulled back onto the road, and as soon as I cleared the next block, I turned down the dirt road that used to act as the service entrance to the old motel. I parked in the back of the bus station which wasn’t really a station at all, just a small brick building with a flat roof and a ticket window facing the street with a few scattered benches. The light overhead where Dre was sitting was flickering on and off, casting the grassy area in spastic shadows.
Shit, maybe she really was getting on that bus. And for a second, I was happy that the kid was going to be reunited with her father. I wasn’t messing around when I told her that most people didn’t have dad’s that cared enough to give her an ultimatum like he did. I was about to pull back out when I saw the headlights of a bus pulling into the station. I’d just decided that I was going to wait for her to get on the bus before I headed to Coral Pines, when suddenly her feet stopped tapping and retracted back into the shadows.