Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
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“Names Buck. I’m the boys step-dad,” he corrected, crossing his arms over his bare chest that was covered in paper clip style prison tats.
“Fucking figures,” I muttered.
“What the fuck do you want with him?” Buck asked. “He steal something from you?” He leaned to the side, spitting black tobacco onto the asphalt. He wiped the spittle off his chin with the back of his hand. “I told that boy to quit stealing shit. I guess that woopin’ I gave him last time didn’t teach him any kind of lesson. Looks like he’s got another one comin’.”
My rage had reached the point of no return and King felt it too because he stepped aside and let me come forward. “The only thing he stole was food. And while I’m sure your cigarette and beer money comes first you could have bothered to feed your fucking kid.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me how to discipline my kid? Withholding supper builds character. It’s how my daddy and his daddy before him did it and it’s how I do it.”
“So the bruises and beatings are all part of it too?” I asked.
“If the boy won’t answer my questions, he gets punished.”
“Wait, he can’t speak...so you gave him a concussion? Starved him?”
“What the fuck?” Bear asked.
“Can’t speak or won’t?” Buck asked, crushing the empty beer can in his hand and tossing it onto the pile beside the door. “Should have never bothered with the boy or his whore of a mama. Hope wherever he is he don’t come the fuck back or he’s gonna get the tail end of a switch and learn what real punishments all about.” He shook his head. “If you want the little retard so much you can fucking have him.”
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I asked, blocking his way back into the trailer.
Buck looked over my shoulder to the crowd of neighbors that had gathered around to watch the commotion. Buck sneered, tobacco covered his yellow teeth.
“What are you gonna do? Call the fucking pigs? IF they even bother to arrest me I’ll do thirty days at most and be out fucking his mama again before football season starts.” Buck laughed.
“He must be new in town,” King said from somewhere behind me.
“’Real new. ‘Cause we don’t call cops,” Bear added, pushing his gun into my hand. As soon as I touched the cold metal I knew it wasn’t his gun after all. It was mine. “We didn’t get rid of all of your shit,” Bear said to me.
“What? You gonna shoot me in front of all these people? You gonna kill me in the middle of the fucking day with a bunch of witnesses standing around who could send you to jail?” Buck rolled his eyes.
“He really must be new in town,” Bear joked.
I raised the gun and aimed it at Buck’s chest.
“Why do you keep saying that!” Buck screamed backing up and raising his hands in the air. He looked over my shoulder to the crowd where not one person was making a move to protect him.
“Because,” I said, cocking the gun. “None of them are going to call the fucking cops.”
“Oh yeah?” Buck challenged “And why the fuck is that?”
I pulled the trigger twice, sending Buck’s bleeding body rolling into a heap of his own garbage.
“Because, unlike you, they know who we fucking are.”
I may not have found Bo, but I did find someone else. An old friend of mine I didn’t even know I missed.
And his name was Revenge.
“Reunited and it feels so goooooood,” I sang out the open truck window as we flew over the causeway. I breathed in the salty air and it wasn’t enough. I opened my mouth so I could taste it on my tongue. Bear pulled me inside by my shirt. “Fuck, that was better than any therapy,” I said after planting my ass back on the seat. “What a fucking rush!”
“Yeah, Prep, if it put you in this good of a mood we should find someone else to kill,” Bear said.
I pulled the note from my pocket and smiled. “Done.”
“‘Bout time you started feeling better,” King said, turning onto the dirt road under the bridge.
“No!” I exclaimed, turning toward them and gesturing with my hands as I spoke, one of which was still holding the gun. MY gun. “I don’t just feel better; I feel...” I looked up at my two best friends who were eagerly awaiting for me to tell them something the shit eating grins on their faces told me they already knew.
“ALIVE. I feel fucking ALIVE.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Five Months Later DRE
I pulled the covers up to my chin but was still unable to shake the chill that had seeped into my bones. Every single degree the temperature dropped made me miss Logan’s Beach even more than I already did.
When I realized the chill was coming from my bedroom window that I didn’t remember leaving open I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders and padded over to shut it, sleepily bumping into my desk in the process.
“You look like an adorable fucking eskimo,” a deep voice said from out of nowhere. I turned around and jumped back, bracing my hands on the window sill as the door slowly creaked closed. A face I never thought I’d see again stepped out from the shadows. He smiled and his eyes gleamed.
“What?” I asked. “Why are you here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” he asked like it was an absurd question, and I wasn’t sure if he was telling me that was the reason he was there or just stating a fact.
“Because it’s been five months and I haven’t heard a damn thing from you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. Preppy walked around the room slowly picking up frames and trophies from my youth and running his hands over my ribbon for winning first place in the eighth grade science fair. “You scared the shit out of me you know.”
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s fine now. It was minor heart attack. He just has to watch what he eats and his stress levels. He was lucky he noticed the signs as early as he did and Edna called for help,” I said.
“That’s good. What did you make to win this?” Preppy asked. He held up the ribbon.
I mashed my lips together. “A portable printing press.”
“For books and shit?” He set the ribbon back down.
I shook my head and wrapped the blanket around me tighter. I shivered, but this time the cold had nothing to do with it. “A money press.”