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1
CHARLIE
When you were single, twenty-six, and living in a party town like Atlantic City, there was a buffet of options for an evening’s entertainment. You could go out on a date, eat something nice, maybe even get lucky. Or you could get lucky another way, high-rolling in one of the opulent casinos that lined the boardwalk. Maybe you’d prefer a quiet night, spending time with friends at home.
There was something for everyone, and yet, I was pretty surenobody’sidea of a good time was sneaking into a dilapidated warehouse on the Jersey Shore in the dead of night. Well, no one I knew, anyway.
Yet, here I was, and embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t even the first time I’d spied on my little sister with my trusty tracker app and followed her somewhere I shouldn’t. Next time, though, I’d prefer a frat party I was too old for than a warehouse that smelled like rotten fish and old sweat.
Man, this was bad. But not bad enough to turn back.
My baby sister, at nineteen years old, was in this hazardous shack somewhere, and I wasn’t leaving without her, even if I had to drag her out by the ear.
I ignored the gnawing worry in my gut that the trouble Lucy was getting into was only escalating. It started with fights at school. Then there was the shoplifting. Then the underage drinking. And most recently, dating losers on a one-way ticket to nowhere.
Now, I had no idea what she was getting into. She didn’t talk to me, even though we were the only family we had left. Growing up in Mercy House, a group home run by nuns, had turned me into a shame-ridden rule follower, but it had the opposite effect on Lucy.
Still, a firm talking-to was clearly in order. Hanging out at an abandoned property that looked like the set of a horror movie wasn’t a great idea. What was next? I shuddered to think.
My sneaker pressed on a shard of broken glass and made a loud, crunching sound. I froze. I was still in the large room I’d first snuck into. Old crates and other shipping equipment were stacked haphazardly along one wall, leaving plenty of shadowy nooks and crannies for eyes to watch me unseen.
Broken windows lined one side of the long room, and an upper catwalk ringed the entire floor. Metal creaked, and the wind whistled through the gaping window frames.
Get Lucy and get out of here, a voice inside me urged.Nothing good happens in places like this. Well, that was pretty damn obvious, but I couldn’t see a single sign of my wayward sister, despite that blinking dot on the tracker app assuring me she was here somewhere.
It was tough to brush aside my highly attuned survival instincts and creep further into the warehouse. I had spent my life trying to stay out of trouble, but growing up in Mercy House hadn’t made that easy. I was thirteen when we’d ended up there, and all the social worker said as she’d patted me on the hand was how lucky I was not to be separated from my sister. Sure, our Da had just passed, mowed down in a random drive-by shooting while waiting in line to buy takeout. Sure, we had to sleep in a dorm with ten other girls, one of whom liked to set her pillow on fire, and another who hid and tortured small animals. A dorm where the nuns grilled us about our shameful thoughts and performed random middle-of-the-night bed checks for “impurity.”
Okay, Sue Granger from Social Work. We were the luckiest girls in all of New Jersey.
“Lucy?” I hissed, breaking the oppressive silence in the dark room. She had to be here somewhere.
I pushed on, heading toward the next room over. I had to hand it to my baby sister. If they gave awards to people with the most talent for getting themselves in a pickle, Lucy would win, hands down. Technically, she wasn't a baby anymore. I knew that. But at nineteen, she was at that weird age where she was old enough to get herself in serious trouble, and yet young enough to ignore the possible consequences. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to cut the cord between us.
For the last thirteen years, I’d been the only mother she’d had.
“Look after her, Charlie. You’re the only one who can.”
My Da’s ghostly voice drifted through my mind. That night, he'd given me the most important responsibility of my life, one that still sat heavily on my shoulders.
Some nights were harder than others to honor his dying wish.
A shuffle sounded to my left. “Charlie?” a voice I knew better than my own whispered.
“Lucy,” I muttered and dropped to a crouch. My hands landed on broken shards of glass in the dark, but I didn’t flinch. When it came to protecting Lucy, nothing would ever be too painful or inconvenient to stop me.
My sister was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, a wild look in her huge eyes. She was scared. Considering she hadn't been scared of anything at all lately -- treating her "bad girl" status like a badge of honor -- her sudden fear was worrying. She had to be in a tight spot if she was dropping her tough-girl act.
I maneuvered myself into the tiny space beside her. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you follow me?” she asked without anger.
I elbowed her gently. “Of course I did. That’s what big sisters do, right?”
“How?”
“Phone tracker app.” There was no point in lying to her; she’d figure it out eventually.
She nodded. Something was wrong. She was too subdued. I made out the sound of distant conversation. We weren’t alone here.
