Page 10 of Black Waters

Chapter Three

First

After delivering Whit to school safe and sound the following Monday, I skipped first period and went looking for that damn moving yellow billboard. With Crash nowhere to be found, I figured drug peddlers slept in after illegal long evenings. I soon learned this particular drug dealer was not sleeping in. When I arrived back at school, an unmistakable Lotus was parked across the street under a tree.

He’s here for Whit.

After parking, I marched across the pavement and saw Crash walking from the back of the art building, his head hanging low. He never saw me coming as I grabbed the front of his shirt to shake the shit out of him. His eyes darted upward in shock, and that expression made me freeze, thinking of his father, who was more my size, belittling his son. It sounds crazy, I know, but I actually felt sorry for the guy.

Seeing Crash up close, I saw many scars on his face, some older, some newer, and I knew who was to blame. My eyes closed in regret, and I let him go. As I stepped away, all I could muster was, “Please, stay away from her.”

Crash didn’t just look beaten. He sounded beaten from the inside out. “She has asked the same.” Slowly, he walked away.

I hadn’t liked being on Whitney’s porch because I was not able to physically see her. So I improvised. That night, after I swam across the lake and changed into dry clothes I’d hidden in a bush, I sat in the grass in Whit’s backyard. Sheltered under a tree so she couldn’t see me, I watched her prepare for bed through her bedroom backdoor that led to her balcony. My surroundings were dark, except for the crest moon that spied on me while I spied on Whit.

A brisk northerly breeze gave me a chill and rustled the trees—making Crash’s approach undetected. It was as if he knew how to use the distraction to sneak up on me. “Mind if I sit?”

Who is this kid? A sneaky ninja? “Somehow, I don’t think my answer will alter the end result.”

It didn’t completely surprise me to see him there. He cared for Whit and knew she was in trouble. Crash plopped down in the thick, manicured grass. It was odd, but we sat in silence, both observing Whit until Crash broke a quiet moment. “Here’s how I see it: two sets of eyes are better than one.”

He had a valid point I couldn’t argue with. In all honesty, Crash was the only one who knew the truth—or at least some of it—and cared enough to do something about it. I loved Whit too much to let my pride get in the way and deny any additional help.

I nodded and went back to staring at my girl.

“Do you love Franky?”

“Whit,” I corrected. “Of course I do.”

“No.” His voice lowered. “Do you love her?”

My jaw tightened. “None of your fucking business.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He went quiet again while I bit my inner cheek, trying to handle building anxiety.

“Do you know that Franky loves you, too? In that way?”

I peered at him for two reasons.

One: Crash was the third person to say that to me within days.

Two: He called her Franky again, showing a stubborn side that I, shockingly, respected.

Whit was in her room, brushing her hair. I guess not replying wasn’t enough to get Crash to shut his trap. “Yeah, she doesn’t know it either.”

Again my eyes rushed to see this guy sitting next to me. How the hell Crash knew her so well—in such a short amount of time—was beyond my understanding. He spoke as if he had known her for years—or knew someone who’d known her extremely well.

I thought of him and his dad talking in the alley. Timothy.

I glanced back to Whit pulling blue flannel PJs from her drawer. “Those are her favorite. She says they make her feel safe.”

“Oversized pajamas?”

“They were her brother’s.”

“Oh.” He studied her again.