I think you all know the drill. I wrote a chapter of a story, and I would like someone to please read it and critique it.

Chapter 1:

When I finally put down my pencil, my eyes are aching from the amount of time I’ve been staring at the paper before me. On a whim, I check my wristwatch. It is 12:30 AM; two hours of hometwork. I am sitting at the old wooden kitchen table in a blue sweatshirt and jeans, working on my second to last page of calculus homework in the dim light from the kitchen’s two remaining light bulbs. I realize that I’ve been vaguely reading the same problem over and over again for at least ten minutes. I need more fuel in the tank. I take a bite from the half-eaten Panini and a sip from the flat ginger ale on my left. Then, I re-evaluate the problem and start typing away at the graphing calculator on my right. This is the average Saturday night setup for me. I was out at a nightclub Friday night, hungover in bed all of Saturday, and now that the headache’s finally faded away I have schoolwork to do.

As I’m writing in my answer I hear my ten year old sister scream from her bedroom upstairs. Her terrified scream is also part of the average Saturday night setup. I sigh and stand up from my stool, just as she screams a second time. “Coming Lizzy!” I yell, and walk out the side of the kitchen to the flimsy staircase in the entry foyer. I hear a third scream when I hit the top of the stairs. Usually she stops at two. My pace across the blue carpet quickens, as does my heart rate. Liz’s room is at the end of the single corridor that makes up the second story, eight feet from the stairs. It feels like a mile. I hear a fourth scream just as I reach the door.

I throw it open and run inside. “Liz, I’m here” I call, and look to her bunk bed. She’s a quivering lump beneath her hot pink blankets. I run forward and quickly drop down next to her. I hear her sobbing and my heart aches. I lean over and pull the comforter away, revealing her trembling beneath. Her shoulder length platinum blonde hair is soaked in sweat and clinging to her shoulders and her pale face is glistening with sweat and tears. “Liz, I’m here,” I repeat. One of Liz’s sweaty hands snaps out and grabs mine. I squeeze it gently and whisper in a soothing voice “What’s going on sweetheart? Usually the nightmares aren’t this bad.” She twists over to look at me, and I see her eyes are red from crying. She doesn’t say anything, she just sits up and lays her head against my side before resuming sobbing. I put my free arm around her and feel her tremble. Her pink pajamas are soaked in sweat. “I’ve got you small fry, its okay.” She shakes her head and I squeeze her tighter.

After a minute she’s calmed down enough to talk. “J-Jake, the man came back” she sniffles, and then breaks down into incoherent sobs again. She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my shirt while I begin to panic. I’ve never seen her this hysterical before. Usually during her nightly terrors I just wake her up, talk to her, give her a hug, and tuck her back in. All I am able to do here is rub her heaving back and listen to her wail.

“Lizzy, Lizzy, shhhh its okay, I’ve got you” I coo to her. She relaxes a little. I turn so I can get both my arms around her. “Breathe deeply.” She takes one long breath, then another, then she starts coughing. I slap her back and she returns to normal. “Come on Lizzy, you’re tougher than that.” She nods and takes a third breath. I force out a cheerful smile. “Very good, now can you talk to me?”

“Y-yes” she says. Relief rushes through me.

“That sounded worse than normal, what happened?”

She inhales deeply. “T-the big man came back. He walked into my room, and I could hear his boots, I think they were metal, they were so loud.” I nod along. This part is normal. Usually he stops by her bedside and starts lifting her covers, at which point she wakes up. “I heard a woman scream. Then he lifted up my covers, and I saw this black coat. He leaned over me. He didn’t have a face, just this black v-void.” Her jaw slams shut and she whimpers, so I resume rubbing her back. She inhales again and starts up. “He was holding a gun in one hand, and he had mommy in her other.”

My heart stops. It can’t be, no way. “Are you sure?” I ask. She gives me a small nod. Lizzy’s parents-my aunt and uncle-vanished five years ago. The police were called to the house to find Liz curled up beneath her bed and several bulletholes through her bedroom door. She won’t tell anyone what happened, and every time someone asks she clams up and runs into mine or dad’s arms. The case has been cold for five years now. “Your mommy, not mine?”

She’s hanging onto me, one hand around my back and the other over my chest and clenching my further shoulder. “Yes. He, he shot mommy, and then he reached for me.” Suddenly I’m so cold, and my arms are trembling as I try to make a mental picture of the scene. “And then I woke up, I think.” I wrap her in a bearhug and squeeze her as tight as I can.

I gasp “you’re awake, don’t worry. Holy shit babe, holy shit.” She nods. “Holy shit. You’re okay now, I’m here for you.” I consider calling dad, but remember that he’s probably on patrol right now given the time difference between New York and Afghanistan.

“I don’t think you can stop him,” she whispers

“He’s threatening you. I will,” I growl with certainty. “Now, why don’t you come downstairs and stay with me until I finish my homework-or Rachel gets home.” Fifteen-year-old Rachel occupies the top bunk bed and deals with Liz’s nightmares during weeknights. Liz nods at my suggestion. “Okay.” I stand up, and before she can get up herself I pick her up and cradle her in my arms.

“Thank you” she says.

“You’re welcome small fry” I say. I carry her across the hallway and down the stairs. Back in the kitchen I sit her down next to my spot, and her eyes go fearfully to the darkness spilling from the doorways to the entry foyer and entertainment room. “Its okay, nothing in there” I reassure her. I pull a couple of beef patties out of the freezer and throw them in the microwave on a paper plate. Her eyes light up at the sight of them and she deeply inhales their warm scent.

“Why are you making food?” she asks.

I open the fridge again and pull out a bottle of grape juice, then slam it shut. With it in hand I walk back across the dirt stained black and white tiles to her. “Consider it comfort food.”

“I though ice cream and candy were comfort food though.” I laugh and pat her on the top of her head. “That’s junk food. Comfort food needs to be a little healthy.”

“Tell that to Rachel.” I sigh.

“There’s a lot of things I need to tell Rachel, small fry, and I doubt she’ll listen to any of them.”

“Like how she keeps throwing up after every meal even though you tell her not to?” My fists clench.

“Yeah, like that. Please don’t tell anyone else about that.” She nods. The microwave beeps twice, announcing the beef patties are finished. I take them out and drop them in front of her. “Enjoy.” With that done, I sit down next to her and refocus on my calculus problems, except this time my right arm is around her and she’s leaning on my shoulder, dropping crumbs onto my calculator. Dammit, I should’ve gotten her a napkin.

I get through four problems before my thoughts return to her nightmare. She’s never dreamed that before, what had changed? Her mom and dad had had problems even before they vanished. I remember dad yelling at them one night when I was 11. He’d finally thrown them out at shotgun point, and then flushed a balloon filled with what I now know was powdered heroin down the toilet. Maybe it was symbolic of something? Liz had nightmares every night. All the medication dad had tried either didn’t work or made her sick.

I mentally run through what Liz was doing yesterday. She woke up, went to school, had soccer afterwards, then came home and did homework and watched cartoons until bedtime. That’s a normal Friday for her. “Is something wrong, Jake?” Liz asks me.

“I’m worrying about you” I say, and resume work. Before she can reply the doorbell rings. Liz tenses. I get up and peer out the window before me. I see a pair of headlights speeding off down the road. “It looks like Rachel’s home,” I say. Liz clings to me as I walk to the front door and open it.

“Hellloooo Jacob!” Rachel says, and then stumbles inside. I catch her just before she falls. Her breath stinks of alcohol bad enough to make me gag. I put her back on her feet. She put her hand on my shoulder, and then spots Liz at my side. “What are you doing up baby?” she asks, and then giggles. I sigh. Rachel tall and thin like myself, five foot seven to my six feet even. She has a heart shaped face with freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. Her straight, dark brown hair ends in a careful cut at her shoulders and she’s wearing a black sweater and red miniskirt that has several dark stains down its front. She parties weekly and usually comes home in this state, which worries me to no end. Still, her grades are solid B plus’ and she does her part in taking care of the house, so I don’t object.

“Way to drink responsibly,” Liz mutters.

“I think I’ve had a few” Rachel replies, and then kicks off her stiletto heels. “Ahhh, bare feet.” She wiggles her toes, then slips. I catch her before she can hit the wall.

“More than a few. You must be proud of the example you’re setting for small fry,” I say. Rachel giggles. She’s still sensible enough to lean on me and let me help her into the kitchen rather than try to run there on their own and fall. I set her down on my stool and pour her a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. Lizzy sits down next to her and puts an arm around her waist. “So how was Kelley’s party?” I ask as I set the glass down in front of her.

Rachel starts giggling uncontrollably. “It was amazing. She hired this hot DJ to play for us and he set up a full turntable in her basement. She opened her parent’s liquor cabinet and they had vodka and rum and even fucking everclear. We partied so hard. Then this guy Robert showed up and he started talking to me.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“Robert… do you have a picture?”

“And a phone number.” She opens her phone and hands it to me. Robert is a tall, pale boy with a confident smile that displayed his full rack of perfectly white teeth. Million-dollar smile was the term. His face resembled that of a movie star; naturally handsome, perfectly proportioned, and positively glowing even before it was graced with a smile.

As is required by my older brother duties, I immediately hate his guts. “Thank you. Now I know who I’m going to put down when he comes to the front door.”

Her jaw drops and a heartbroken look forms on his face. “What? Jacob, he’s a nice guy, and so good looking too!”

I shrug. “That’s too bad, he shouldn’t have picked the girl whose older brother scores sixteen out of twenty in skeet.” Liz smirks at her.

“Try again when he’s at boot camp, sis,” she says.

“Don’t even think about it,” I counter.

Rachel sticks out her tongue at me, and grimaces. “Ugh, go call Gabby.”

I wish I could, I need to get that girl on a date sometime. “Gabby is away this weekend, believe me I’d love to.” Rachel frowns, and sighs. Then her gaze turns to Liz.

“So what are you doing up baby?” she repeats.

“I had a nightmare. It was worse than usual.”

“Oh my god!” Rachel wraps her in a hug. “I’m sorry Lizzy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company.” Lizzy smiles and buries her face in her shirt. Their combined adorableness is too much for me to resist. I throw my arms around both of them. Rachel starts laughing. “Hello Jake, its nice to know that you love us.” I kiss her on the cheek. Rachel isn’t a bad person really; she’s just…fifteen and drowning in hormones. That’s my best explanation.

There’s a knock at the door.

“I’ve got it!” I say. I peer out the window. There’s a grey sedan parked in front of our driveway. “What the fuck?” I say to no one as I answer the door. Its Robert, he’s standing there towering several inches over my head and smiling. The smile momentarily disarms me. Then I picture him eyeing my sister and my anger returns.

“Hello, is this Rachel Braverman’s house? I saw her at a party tonight and she was looking really sick. I wanted to offer her a ride home but she left before I-“

“Robert?” Rachel calls.

“I see she made it home, that’s good,” Robert says. I glare at him, but keeps smiling. “Is she alright? I was worried about her.”

“She’s fine, in fact she’s going to bed shortly,” I say. Robert raises his eyebrows. Rachel steps into the foyer behind me, Liz hanging onto her shirt. Robert steps forward. His grey sneakers cross the threshold into my house. Instantly I slide between him and my little sisters. My left hand goes into my back pocket and finds my switchblade.

“Hey Rob!” Rachel says, too drunk to feel threatened. Rob winks at her and waves back.

I need to get him out of here now. “I’m sorry Rob, it’s almost one in the morning and we are going to bed” I say.

“No problem, have a good night!” Robert says in a perfectly polite voice. He walks back out. I shut the door a bit harder than necessary then collapse against it, breathing hard. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears and my arms are shaking from adrenaline. I watch him get in his car and drive off. Then I look back at Rachel, who looks heartbroken, and Liz, who is terrified.

“He’s a fucking creep, stay away from him” I growl at Rachel.

“He’s awesome” Rachel replies angrily.

I open my mouth to answer but Liz beats me to it. “He’s really scary, you’re just drunk Rachel. Think about it tomorrow. Lets go to bed, you promised to keep me company.” Rachel sighs and her expression softens. I make a mental note myself to tell Liz how awesome she is.

“Okay baby, you’re probably right. Lets go to bed.” She lets Liz take one of her slim elfin hands and lead her back upstairs. At the top of the stairs Liz turns to me and gives me a thumbs up. I return with a salute. I lock the front door, and then open the foyer closet. One of the folding doors falls. I catch it and lower it to the ground. I reach through the hanging coats and scarfs and find the cold metal of my twelve-gauge shotgun on its gun rack in the back. Though I haven’t been to the range since early October and it’s now late November, shooting is like riding a bike: I never forget. I close the closet and head back upstairs. There’s a 20-gauge shotgun and a Browning Hi-Power .45 in my room. The shotgun was supposed to be Rachel’s on her 14th birthday, but she turned out to have zero interest in guns so it’s waiting for Liz. The pistol was my grandfather’s in Vietnam.

At the top of the stairs I start towards my sister’s room. Liz emerges from the door and puts a finger over her mouth. “Rachel’s asleep, or passed out.”

“Alright, good work down there” I say. She smiles at me. I walk into the room and look to the top bunk. Rachel is fully clothed slumped on the railing, one arm dangling over the side. She’ll wake up around late morning, most likely. This wasn’t the most drunk she’s been at least, so the hangover shouldn’t be too bad. She’s got to do her homework.

I turn to Liz, who’s eyeing her bed and fidgeting. “Are you going to be okay?” She gives me a confident smile. “Yeah, even though Rach’s asleep, she’s still keeping me company. I’ll be fine.” I muss with her hair.

“I hope so. Want me to tuck you in?”

“Of course.” She climbs into be and curls up. I pull the comforter up and smooth it over her.

“Goodnight sweetheart” I whisper, and kiss her on the forehead. She smiles delightedly and closes her eyes.

Back in the hallway I debate on returning to work. My attention has been completely thrown by the last few minutes. I’ll finish the calculus tomorrow; I only have Spanish to do after so even with helping Liz and Rachel with their homework I should have more than enough time to complete it. I got to my room, lie down without changing from my jeans and sweatshirt, and close my eyes.

...are aching from the amount of time I’ve been staring…

You can get rid of the “the amount of time I’ve been,” I think.

hometwork.

homework*

I realize that I’ve been vaguely reading the same problem over and over again for at least ten minutes.

Love this :) I can totally relate!

...my ten year old sister…

Should be ‘ten-year-old’

...terrified scream is also…

I would choose a different word than ‘scream,’ for you used it in the previous sentence.

“Liz, I’m here” I call, and look to her bunk bed.

I would get rid of the ‘I call.’ just feels out of place to me. Just an opinion :)

...anything, she…

Should be a semicolon.

...shhhh its okay…

Should be ‘it’s’

Note: I love how kind the main character is to his sister. It’s a refreshing change from typical stories!

...his boots, I think…

I think that should be a period, not a comma.

Lizzy’s parents-my aunt and uncle-vanished five years ago.

Wait, I thought Lizzy was his sister? Does he just call her ‘sister’ because they live together?

I gasp “you’re awake, don’t worry. Holy shit babe, holy shit.” She nods. “Holy shit. You’re okay now, I’m here for you.” I consider calling dad, but remember that he’s probably on patrol right now given the time difference between New York and Afghanistan.

Why is he saying holy shit? In my opinion, it seems a bit vulgar to be said in front of a ten-year-old.

...her eyes go fearfully to the darkness spilling from the doorways to the entry foyer and entertainment room.

I like this a lot, personally. I do the same exact thing.

“I though ice cream and…

thought*

Dammit, I should’ve gotten her a napkin.

I laughed at this :)

Before she can reply the doorbell rings.

should be a comma between ‘reply’ and ‘the’

She put her hand…

should be ‘puts’

Rachel tall and…

Rachel is*

...cut at her shoulders and she’s wearing…

should be a comma between ‘shoulders’ and ‘and.’ Great description by the way!

...solid B plus’...

pluses* (or even plusses*)

As is required by my older brother duties, I immediately hate his guts.

I love this. Very funny.

...could, I need…

should be a period or a semicolon.

...but keeps smiling…

but he*

...tomorrow. Lets go to bed…

Let’s*

I make a mental note myself to tell Liz how awesome she is.

Love this.

I got to my room

go*

Overall: I really love the relationship between these three. You’ve developed their characters and dynamic very well, even in just this chapter! Most of my corrections are just technical things, which is easy to fix!

A few notes:
You’re missing some commas in there that I didn’t point out. Namely, the commas necessary when addressing a character. For example: It’s correct to say “Good night, Liz.” as opposed to “Good night Liz.”
There are also some missing commas after quotes. It is almost aways necessary to put a comma at the end of the quote if it’s not the end of a sentence. Example: “Good night” I say is incorrect. It should be “Good night, I say.”

One other thing: I would suggest you pair a character’s actions with their quotes to avoid confusion. For example:

“Good night,” Liz says. I smile.
“Love you.”

Better:
“Good night,” Liz says.
I smile. “Love you.”

Other than that, great job!

Ohh I get you, that makes sense.

:( anyone?

Hi TheArmada, sorry I didn’t get time to look at the first chapter.

The opening to Chapter 2 is okay. The rhythm in the first paragraph is a bit jarring, I would prefer fewer sentences beginning with the word I. They can be negated by using more sensory experiences (like the first sentence) rather than I-statements (I feel, I did, I was, etc.). This is actually a good example of “showing not telling”: by using I-statements, you are ‘telling’ the reader what the character does, feels, says, etc., but by avoiding I-statements and exploring sensory experiences you can ‘show’ the reader.

Take the first paragraph, for example. I sit straight up. I ignore it. I rub my eyes. I swing my legs out of bed. I cross the room. Compared to the first sentence and the second clause of the second sentence, which really engage the senses in a less selfish-sounding way. The screaming guitar riffs, the cold morning air stings.

Do you get what I’m trying to say? Even when the sentence is nothing more than an action, (“I swing my legs out of bed and with a grunt pull myself to my feet”), breaking up the monotony of every sentence beginning with I, by using senses and descriptions and complex sentences (“swinging my legs out of bed, I grunt and pull myself to my feet”) will create a more enjoyable rhythm for the reader.

Your dialogue is okay, there’s not much I can say about it. Naturalistic, but without straying/rambling, and a good way of adding characterisation.

That’s all I have time for right now, dishes are demanding to be dried and put away right now.

Taku, like this?

On Monday morning the screaming guitar riffs of Stairway to Heaven rip me out of my dreams and send me crashing back to reality. The cold morning air stings my bare torso, and there’s a frigid draft blowing through the leaky caulking of my windows. The discomfort helps me force my eyes open. The first thing I see is a blurry image of my bare blue wall. I rub my eyes and the image clears, revealing the trap shooting medal and Batman poster I’ve tacked up over the cracked paint. I stare at them for several seconds, and then I swing my legs out of bed and pull myself to my feet with a grunt of unwilling exertion. My alarm blares again, and this time I shut it off. I stumble across my room and yank my dresser open.

Chapter 2:

Monday goes by slowly. Most of my classes are spent frantically writing down everything the teacher is saying and trying to understand the symbols/equations/words they are writing on the board. I get a small break in English, because I actually enjoy the books we’re reading and I can do a pretty enthusiastic-if poor quality analysis.

Lunchtime Sam and I sell off a couple ounces of weed to two sophomores for thirty dollars and Kelley asks us for Molley. “Sorry, all out” Sam says bitterly.

“Is this what you were doing Saturday night?” I joke.

She giggles and shakes her head. “No, that was just shots and beer. If it was there no one I know brought it.” We hear footsteps outside the empty classroom we’re holed up in and I shove the bag of weed into my knapsack. The footsteps fade in the other direction. After a moment the three of us start giggling hysterically.

“I swear, when I get caught I’m going to either be shitting myself in terror or laughing so hard they’ll think I’m high” Sam says. My phone rings. I pick it up.

“Yo, I found August” Thai says.

My heart leaps. “Hang on one second.” Sam gets a nod and quickly ushers Kelley out the door.

“Go free little freshman” he cracks, to more giggling. As soon as the door shuts behind her he turns serious though. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Thai found August.” I give him the phone, and then lean close to his ear to listen.

“Thai, why didn’t you call me?” Sam demands.

“I did. You didn’t pick up.”

Sam checks his phone. “Fuck, the fucking thing ran out of batteries. Piece of shit.”

“Doesn’t matter now, where’s August?” I say before he can go off on a tangent.

“He’s sitting on the baseball field smoking a joint.”

“Alright, lets go” Sam says. We sling our bags over our shoulder and burst into the hallway in a dead run. We blow past Kelley near the back exit. She yells something at us as we tear through the double doors leading outside, but I don’t catch it over the pounding of our feet on the tiles. The baseball diamond sits at a weird location behind and beneath the school tucked against the tree line. We sprint over and duck behind the bleachers. Thai’s there, waiting. “Where is he?” Sam says.

“Sitting in the visitor’s dugout with a joint and a beer” Thai says. I stick my head out. Across the infield I see a blue sweatshirted figure with its back to us, an unmistakable cloud of white smoke rising over his head. August Philips; valedictorian, Princeton acceptee, and winner of a couple of national music contests, stealing weed. The irony is pretty funny.

We start forward, staying along the infield fence incase he turns around. My heart is pounding and my hands are trembling from adrenaline. I’m always like this before a fight. Its a rush, and that scares me a little bit, because these are usually other kids I’m beating up, and not all of them for a good reason. “Fucker’s smoking my weed” Sam says.

“Quiet” I hiss.

“Right.” We circle around behind the backstop and enter the visitor’s dugout from behind. August is too busy texting and drinking from his metal bottle. He doesn’t see us creeping through the gate until Sam yells “Where’s our weed motherfucker?” He looks up, his mouth forms a little ‘o,’ and he bolts. In ten steps I catch him. My arms grab him around the waist and I tackle him into the semi-frozen mud.

“Get off me” he squeals and suddenly there’s a rock in his hand. He smashes me across the temple with it. It’s like getting hit with a sledgehammer. My head throbs and vision blurs, but I hang onto him. Before he can get in a blow Thai catches up to us and kicks him in the head. He yelps, and grabs at his foot. Thai kicks him again and he stops struggling.

“Where’s my drugs at?” Sam demands. I figure Thai has August, so I let go of his twitching body and roll away. My arms get under me and I push, but I can’t stand. My vision is still blurry and the ground beneath my palms and knees is swaying. “Jake, are you okay?” Sam asks.

“Yes” I grunt, and close my eyes. After a few seconds I reopen them. The world has cleared and its movements have abated enough that I can force myself to my feet, which I do. I turn back towards Sam, and his eyes go to my head.

“You’re bleeding man,” he says.

This isn’t the worst blow to the head I’ve taken. “I’m fine” I insist. My hand goes through my short hair until I find a warm liquid and a dent in my skin.

“Okay then.” Sam turns back to August. “Where’s my fucking drugs? You broke into my stash you moron, where are they?” August spits at him. Thai kicks him in the ribs and his face scrunches up in pain. “I said, where are they?”

“In my bag, in the back of the dugout” he whimpers. Sam stomps back there. After a moment he returns with a black bookbag, which he turns over in front of August. Several binders, a fist-sized plastic bag of white tablets, and a larger bag of green plant matter fall out. Sam picks both bags up and examines them.

“This is it,” he says with relief. “What, were you stealing this for recreational use or something? How long would it take you to smoke all this?” August doesn’t reply, he just curls up into a muddy ball and starts whimpering. I kick him in the base of the back where his tailbone is, and he squeaks a little. “Whatever, be that way” Sam says. “Come on crew, leave him.”

There’s a traffic jam at the door as a group of five guys tries to leave just as we’re entering. They see Sam and step aside. “Hey, what happened to you?” one says to me as I pass.

I recognize the speaker, and shrug. “I fell.”

“You okay?” he asks to my back.

I pivot on my ratty sneakers and try to smile at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking Doug.”

Mr. Drenn, gives me a worried look when I walk into US government late with a red gash on my temple. “Are you okay there, Mr. Breverman?” he rasps.

“I’m fine” I reply, and take my seat between Gabby and Xavier. Gabby sees my head and claps a hand over her mouth in horror.

“Are you sure? You could always go down to the nurse’s office.” He stands up and squints

A fake smile forms on my face. “I’m fine, Mr. Drenn, trust me.”

“No you’re not!” Gabby says, and grabs my head. Stars flash in front of my vision. “Oh my god, what happened?” Someone behind me giggles and my cheeks begin to prickle. Gabby pulls me out of my seat, my resistance melting against her.

“Mrs. Lauterman, is this necessary?” Mr. Drenn says, grimacing.

“Yes it is he’s badly hurt!” Gabby explodes. “Here, if he’s too tough to go down to the nurse’s office on his own I’ll walk him down there myself. She grabs my hand and pulls me semi-willingly to the door. I look to Xavier, then Thai for help, but they’re both grinning at me and giving thumbs-ups.

“Come back when you’re done!” Mr. Drenn yells at our backs. I guess he’s just glad I didn’t get stabbed or have any noticeable broken bones.

Once outside I say “Gabs, is this really necessary?”

“Yes it is, you’re wounded” she replies in a huff, and keeps leading.

“It’s nothing” I protest.

“Bullshit, what did you do?”

“I tackled August Philips and he whacked me with a rock. Business shit.”

She gasps and stops short, then caresses my head. “That’s horrible. Here, let’s start with the best kind of care there is,” then she pushes me into the wall and plants an aggressive kiss on my lips. The throbbing in my head fades a little. “How’s that?” she asks.

I smile and peck her on the forehead. “Felt pretty good.”

“Good, now we go to the nurse’s, you’re not walking around with an open wound like that.” She pulls me the rest of the way. The door to the nurse’s office swings open-and a paramedic pushing a wheelchair-bound and mud-soaked August out. Instinct tries to make me jump behind Gabby, but my jaw clamps shut and I hold, despite every inch of my skin prickling as his eyes run over me. Then they’re turned away and heading down the hallway. My eyes go to Gabby, who has her hand over her mouth again.

“What happened?” she demands in a shaking voice.

“I’ll tell you later.” We head inside. Neither of us even bothers worrying about August calling the police. After all, he still had the drugs on him first, and he has the ‘honor’ code to keep to. We creep into the nurse’s office. Mrs. Jafee is washing mud and blood off her hands in the sink and Mr. Tallan is filling out what appears to be an incident report at his desk.

He sees us walk in, his eyes go to the gash on my head, and he groans. “Another fight? Tammy help me hear.” They descend on us.

“Actually, its just me” I say. They look at Gabby in confusion.

“He tried to go through USGov with that, someone had to get his ass down here” she explains.

Mrs. Jafee pulls me into a chair and begins examining my head. “That is pretty ugly. Fortunately it isn’t deep enough to send you to the hospital.” They give me a quick battery of questions and reading tests, which proves I don’t have a concussion. Then Mrs. Jafee pulls out the hydrogen peroxide. “Might want to brace yourself, this is going to hurt a lot.”

Gabby grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I appreciate the honesty.”

She smiles at me, then pours it onto a paper towel and presses it to my head. It stings badly, but it’s a bit of a letdown. After that she sticks a bandage to my head. My hand goes up to it and I imagine what it looks like. “Do I have to go around wearing this all day?”

Mrs. Jafee rolls her eyes. “Would you like an infection?”

“Fine.” I try to stand up but she pushes me down.

“I’m required to call your parents for an injury this severe, can you give me one of their phone numbers?”

“Father’s in Afghanistan, I’m running the house.”

“What about mother?”

“Father’s in Afghanistan.”

She raises her eyebrows. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Father’s in Afghanistan” I repeat.

“Tammy, I’ve got this” Mr. Tallan says. He winks at me and takes out another incident report. I forgot he’s one of my dad’s friends from the veteran’s administration.

“Alright.” I stand up again.

“Well that’s it Jake, you and Gabby be careful” Mrs. Jafee wishes us.

“We will,” I say quickly, and we head out.

“What happened to August?” Gabby whispers.

“He stole drugs off Sam, we got them back.”

“Is he working for anyone? You could get into a pretty big fight.”

“We don’t think so, but if he is we’re ready.”

She squeezes my hand. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you like this. You need to be careful, you’re going to get seriously hurt.”

I push Gabby to the side of the hallway and try to give her a warm reassuring smile, like what I give Liz when she’s freaking out. “Look, I know what I’m doing and I’ve got Sam and Thai and half a dozen thugs backing me up. I’ll pull through.” I lean in to kiss her but she puts a hand on my chest and pushes me back.

“Jake, you live on the outside of town, you don’t have parents or anyone who can watch out for you all day, and you have your sisters to take care of on your own, you’re a lot more vulnerable than the other dealers. It worried me what you get up to. I’m scared that someday I’m going to get a call that you’re in the hospital, or dead. And it’s not just about me, what’ll Rachel and Liz do if you’re hurt?” I try to say something but she keeps going. “Every year someone in the graduating class dies and I’m worried it’s going to be you.”

It’s because she has a valid point that I stop and listen to her. The consequences of my death run through my mind. Rachel and Liz are going to have to live with mother, who doesn’t give a shit about anything outside her parties and her tool boyfriend. Liz will probably curl up in a corner somewhere and go into a coma. Rachel will fall apart, all her potential wasted. A lot of tears from my friends. Even a stay in the hospital will drop ten grand in medical bills on my family. A long, ragged sigh escapes my chest. “You’re right Gabs. I’ll take it easy a little. I was planning on going onto Jackson Street with Thai and company this afternoon, but why don’t we go get coffee or something. I gotta babysit Lizzy this afternoon, so she might come.” She accepts my answer with a nod, and hugs me.

“Alright, lets go.” I let her lead me back to class.

Jackson Street runs parallel with its good twin Main Street and forming a ‘cross’ where they intersect. While Main Street is family shops and restaurants, Jackson is the center of Dellany’s commercial sector. Well, it was the commercial sector before the economic collapse ripped it out. Now the abandoned warehouses and strip shopping centers are the center of our criminal element. It’s where most of my operation’s ‘big time’ deals take place, though we’re still only small time dealers. This is where the regional drug dealers and the manufacturers meet. Deals are held in the back lots and meth labs spring up in the warehouses faster than our police department can put them down.

I’ve been through some violence down there. Someone gets shot once every couple of weeks, once it was almost Sam but Thai and I saved his ass. I’ve done too many brawls and fights to count. It isn’t pretty, but its money and bros.

I tell Sam and Thai that I’ve got some important things to do and sidle back into the school. “Sure thing, see you around” Sam says, and they speed off in his SUV. For a moment I consider doing homework but then I remember that the homework gods have smiled upon me and given me none. Instead I surprise Lizzy with a text that I’ll be picking her up from mad science club, and walk down to the practice field to join the small crowd watching the cheerleader/football team practice.

Two hours later the girls, and myself are standing outside the cracked brick façade of the Café Patio on Court Street, one of the little side roads that branches off of Main. “Can we sit outside?” Liz asks. It’s warmed up about twenty degrees since morning and the sky is clear and blue.

I raise my eyebrows at Gabby and Rachel, who are only wearing sports jackets and shorts from practice. “Sure Liz” Rachel says. We sit down around one of the outside tables. Gabby reaches over to Liz and starts brushing her hand through her loose hair.

“So how was school?” I ask.

“It was boring” Liz says. “We had some kind of assembly about drug safety in gym class, then I had a really stupid spelling quiz.” I snicker at the thought of how much of an effect the drug safety lecture would have.

“How was it stupid?”

“We learned all the words in the beginning of the year, it was too easy.” That surprises me.

“You are being given a gift, you should appreciate it.”

“But we’re not learning anything!” she protests. Gabby giggles.

“What kind of fifth grader are you?” I demand. Lizzy shrugs, and then resumes moping. I need to get this kid to a therapist. Better, I need to be able to afford a therapist.

Liz puts a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you got hurt.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry” I say, and then kiss her on the cheek. “You on the other hand need to smile more, you’re starting to worry me.” Lizzy gives me a wide-eyed stare. “Really, I’m worried about you. Are you having any trouble in school?”

“No.”

“Are the other kids treating you alright?”

“They love me, I have to tell them to stop hugging me.”

“Then why are you so sad all the time? Poor Lizzy” Gabby says. Liz shrugs and stares at the table.

An older waiter comes over. “Jacob, sitting outside on such a cold day? You’ll give your family a cold!” Henry blusters.

I fake an expression of horror. “Hey, it was her idea!” My finger jabs at Liz, who finally smiles, mischievously.

“What?” he leans over in shock. Liz nods. “You are crazy.” Liz nods again. He sighs and purses his lips. “Alright, let me guess. Sprite for Elizabeth and Jake, diet coke for Gabby, and Rachel wants a Corona but she’s getting a cola.”

“Sounds right” I say.

“Alright, I’ll be back with your food orders in a few minutes.”

“How was your day, Rach?” she asks.

“It was alright.”

“Find a new French tutor?” I ask.

“Yeah, Robert offered to help me for free.”

After a moment of confusion the identity of this Robert dawns on me. My fists clench. “That Robert?”

“Tell me about this Robert, I only have a name” Gabby says.

“Yes. Before you say anything, he’s a really nice guy and I think you should meet him before you judge him.”

“I did meet him, he came to my front door at one in the morning looking for you and tried to push his way inside. Not someone I feel you’re safe around.

Rachel completely misses my point. “So, he was worried about me. Like I said, he’s a sweet guy, and you’re completely overreacting.”

Gabby clears her throat. She’s trying to be the reasonable person here, I can tell. She’s fairly good at doing so; I’ll give her that. “Rachel, honestly I’d be a bit worried about him. I think I saw who you’re talking about, and, looks aside, if he tried to force his way into my house at one in the morning I’d be a little worried about talking to him. Take it slowly, not everyone is nice as they seem to be at first.”

Rachel gets herself together to argue with her, then stops herself and sighs. “Alright Gabby.” Gabby pats her on the shoulder.

“Did the bio test go well at least?”

Rachel smiles at me. “The rest of my class died in a fire, but I thought was easy, thanks for the advice.”

A sense of satisfaction and pride wells up inside me. “Welcome little one.” I pat her shoulder. She snarls.

“Stop calling me that.”

“When you turn eighteen I will.” She scowls, and then looks to Gabby.

Gabby winks at me, and says “what do you want, little one?” Rachel puts her head in her hands while the rest of us smile at her and shake our heads.

I hear an oily cough of an engine and instinctively twist around in my chair. A beat up four-door pickup truck rolls up to the broken curb before us. Something about it triggers my danger instinct. Rachel and Liz don’t notice, but Gabby sees it and her eyes go wide with fear. Three doors open and Doug and two ballers in their twenties with heavy denim jackets get out and walk towards us. I stand up and my hand goes to my back pocket. “Girls…”

“Hey Jake” Doug yells.

“Hello” I say. Rachel and Liz are scared now. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me. How’s that head?”

“I’ll live.”

“Yeah, about that.” He reaches through the open passenger door of the truck and pulls out an aluminum baseball bat. “You know who Jamie Reynolds is? Well, he’s a bit pissed that you and your friends beat the shit out of his nephew.” The hulking man on his right takes out a set of brass knuckles. The one on his left withdraws a wooden bat.

My stomach drops and I break into a cold sweat. Jamie Reynolds is on of the biggest dealers on Jackson. He’s expanded into a couple of the neighboring towns and has a couple of heroin labs somewhere. “August is his nephew?”

“Yeah.” Doug walks forward, a confident smile on his face.

“August stole sixteen hundred dollars off of Sam. His fault, he got punished, I don’t see why you have to get involved.”

“Like Jamie cares about that. Don’t worry you’ll live. I’m not sure how much of you will still be working afterwards, though.”

I pull out my switchblade and flick it out. Six inches of steel glimmer in the sun. Doug does a double take at the sight of a blade. “You want to send me to the hospital in front of my girlfriend and my little sisters. Come and fucking get it.” They spread out and circle around me. My aim remains on Doug, though I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Fuck the other two, I can’t take all three anyways. I might as well send Doug to the morgue, I thought he was a friend. I’m going to rush him stab him through the ribs and into his lungs. Maybe hit an artery on the way. I look back to my girls. Liz is crying, Gabby and Rachel are watching me with morbid terror. I don’t want them to watch me go down like this.

Doug raises his bat and I duck low to lunge. “No!” Rachel shrieks, and throws herself between us. My knife barely turns away before she impales herself on it. “You can’t have him!” she says.

This is a new kind of terror “Rach-“ all three girls throw their arms around me. “Get out of the way” I yell and struggle to break free. My heart is pounding faster and faster. This is scaring me more than anything else: my family in danger. “Get off!” I throw myself against Gabby, but they hang on, and I only drag them closer to danger. “Get off me, you’re going to get hurt!” I scream. Doug stops short, his jaw slack. The bat lowers.

“What the fuck?” one of the twenty-something guys says.

“You want to beat up a couple of kids in the middle of town? Come and fucking get it!” Gabby says. There’s terror in her voice, but she isn’t letting go. I get my elbow beneath her to shove, but I can’t pry her off me. Then the Café’s front door opens and Henry storms out.

“You three, get out!” he bellows, and holds up a phone. “The cops are coming, you want to hurt children, talk to them.” The two ballers advance on him, weapons out. In the distant a siren wails, rising rapidly to a high-pitched scream. I see the ‘oh shit’ look cross their faces and they bolt back to their truck. Its engine coughs to life and it roars off. Henry flips them the bird. “Cowards!”

The girls let go of me and hover about a foot of way. I take a few deep breaths to get the shaking out of my hands to no avail, I’m shaking like a leaf on the wind.

“Jake, are you alright?” Liz asks.

“He’s not hurt,” Rachel says.

“But he’s shaking so hard.”

Gabby puts her hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Gabby, little ones, I-I can’t believe you just did that…but thank fucking god you did. I throw my arms around all three of them. My face ends up buried against Gabby and Rachel’s shoulders. I keep it there, where its warm and safe.

“He’s shaking so hard, is he okay?” I grab Liz’s shoulder and hug her a little closer. Out of the corner of my vision I see a cop car turning onto the road. I don’t want him to stop and talk to us, I hope somehow we can send him after Doug and his friends, wherever they are…

Another horrifying thought occurs to me, and I yank out my phone and dial Sam. He picks up on the third ring. “What’s Gucci Jake?”

“Sam, August is Jamie Reynold’s nephew, he’s got Doug Thompson and a couple of ballers looking for us, I just almost got my head bashed in. They’re in a blue Chevy, mid-eighties and dinged paintjob.”

“What…okay, fuck fuck fuck! We are fucking dead if he’s after us”

“Yeah. Can’t talk, cops.” I hang up and reestablish my grip on my girls. With Sam’s prognosis I’m afraid again, for them and anyone I know.