Page 56 of Grace

“Jamie,” I said into the phone.

“You must come home, Grace. You must come home,” he repeated nervously.

“Calm down, Jamie. What happened? I can hear you’re trembling through the phone, and I know this isn’t a withdrawal symptom…” I lowered my voice. Jamie was trying to get clean.

“Grace, come home, please.” He broke into sobs. My heart beat in my throat, and a chill ran down my spine.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t, not on the phone…” he whispered.

“Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll go home.”

I rode my bike like a maniac. Sweat ran everywhere down my body, my thighs cramped, and the hot, dry air burned against my nostrils and throat. My long light brown hair stuck to my body, wet.

When I reached the courtyard of our house, I took a few deep breaths and tossed my bike onto the ground. I ignored my sore muscles and ran across the old wooden porch, the old, dry boards creaking as if they were burning.

“Jamie!” I burst into our house, panting. “Jamie!” I shouted, clutching my side with my hands.

My brother emerged from his room in a pair of jeans that had slipped down below his hips. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I could see he’d been crying. Jamie was visibly terrified, but I had no idea of whom.

“Can you finally tell me what’s going on?” I said. Besides me killing myself to get here this fast.

“Nikky,” he started.

“What has she done?”

“Nikky took… Nikky took it, and the guy might be here any minute.”

“What has she taken?” I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“A bag full of different drugs. It had everything… I should’ve given it to the courier today.” He raked his fingers through his greasy, medium-length hair and bit into his lower lip with such force it started bleeding immediately.

I grabbed the arm of the shabby sofa, sinking my nails into the foam. My heart raced, and my brain flooded with anger.

“Call her to get it back,” I suggested through clenched teeth.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he snapped. “I’ve called her—and Bo—countless times.”

I tensed up when hearing the name.

“Should I call Cyrus?”

“Your cop friend?” He laughed in my face. “He can’t help me. The man I work for has the local police in his pocket. They’re gonna kill me.”

“No! Just tell him you have it, the only thing is…”

“The only thing is what?” He waved his arms in desperation. “This guy doesn’t mess around.”

“Why did you call me home? What am I supposed to do?” I raised my voice, burning anger coursing through my veins.

“You always have a good idea.” He looked deep into my eyes with tears in his, bringing up a memory that twisted my heart.

Daisy.

For a long time, we just stood facing each other while my mind took me back to when I had helped them get rid of the bloody bedsheet.

Tears flooded my eyes because after that incident had happened, I wasn’t brave enough to reach out to the girl who was supposed to be my best friend. And the fact that she didn’t reach out to make amends afterward hurt, too.