Chapter 2 – Andy
Chapter Two
ANDY
It doesn't count as stealing. I remind myself of this while searching through Ms. Connor's desk drawer. When she saw it was only me in detention, she didn't bother to stick around more than ten minutes. She trusted that I wouldn't do what I am now doing, but I don't have much of a choice.
"Score!" I whisper to myself when I find a small tube of super glue.
I sit on the edge of her desk, lifting my left foot so that I can glue the sole of my shoe back on.
I almost face-planted in the hallway, tripping over it this afternoon.
That should have been the icing on the shit cake after I'd gotten detention for once again being late.
Not that I had much control over it. If I did, I would never be late.
It’s not in my character. Hell, I hate breaking rules altogether, but life has a way of forcing you to do things you never thought you would before.
Things that you swore you wouldn't, but each day I toe closer to the line I drew in the sand for myself.
I'm one trip from face-planting right over that line no matter how hard I try to stay behind it.
I squeeze a bunch of the glue on there, hoping it holds.
I have a six-hour shift tonight at the diner, and I need that money, not only for shoes but for a million other things.
I hate working there. Not because I think I’m above it or anything, but I work the night shift, which brings in a much rougher crowd during those hours.
The money can be hit or miss, but I know I’ll at least get one good meal out of it too.
That sounds like more than a lot of people I know.
I test my shoes, but the very top is still coming off, so I add a little more glue, almost dropping it when the door to the classroom swings open. To my surprise, a giant man is stepping through. Holy crap, he’s ginormous. Not in a bad way either.
My eyes lock with his, and I swallow. Who the hell is he? No way he goes here. He can’t be a student, nor could he be a teacher. He’s too rough around the edges. There’s a dark and dangerous aura around him.
“You Andy?” His deep voice causes my skin to break out in goosebumps. I don’t answer right away because I’m unable to form words at the moment. How the heck does this guy know my name? And why the hell is he here looking for me? So many thoughts and questions race through my mind.
“Who’s asking?” I question, my brain finally remembering how to form words.
“Shit, Niki, it’s a fucking girl?” Another man shuffles into the room, almost as big as the first. This one is less rough around the edges but prettied up in designer shoes and clothes. He's definitely not using super glue on them.
The bigger of the two shifts, I think about to push the other one back out the door, but he sidesteps, entering the classroom more. The giant gives a slight shake of his head before shutting the door and blocking off the only exit.
A few things start to click into place. I should have known this was coming. I want to take a step back, but I'm already up against the desk. I drop my foot down so I'm at least on both feet.
"I'm asking."
"It's best you just answer him," the flashy, pretty boy tells me. My eyes linger on the big guy's hands. His knuckles are red, the skin torn. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know he's roughed one person up today already.
"I'm handling it." He shoots Pretty Boy a glare, and he merely shrugs. That glare alone scares the crap out of me.
"Are you Andy?"
I nod, knowing there is no getting out of this.
The man's eyes roam down me and then back up.
I shift on my feet, pulling the strap of my backpack tighter.
The thing almost weighs more than I do. That's what happens when you can't trust your locker and you actually care about your books and education.
"She doesn't look like she uses. Must be new to it."
"I don't use," I clarify. I drop my eyes to my feet, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be in this situation.
"You buy." The big one takes a step closer.
"Once," I whisper, hating to admit it.
"Still counts," Pretty Boy clips, running his hands through his short, wavy hair. I don’t know why that’s annoying, but it is.
Possibly because his hair is shiny and nicer than mine.
I’m guessing girls fall at his feet. No thanks.
He doesn’t do anything for me. Dark and dangerous over here is a different story.
There’s something about him that I find alluring.
But now’s not the time to be thinking about any of that.
These two really are a contrast. Muscle’s hair is shaved close to his scalp, making it easy to take care of. His clothes give off the same vibe. He’s not trying to be attractive, which only makes him all the more attractive.
"Bam, I said I'm handling it." He cuts him off again. "But you didn't pay," he directs toward me.
"I paid half, that's all I had." I didn't know drugs cost so freaking much. I guess inflation really does hit everything. Next thing you know, there will be tariffs on them.
“You use it all or only use half?” He folds his arms over his massive chest, making his muscles show more. Is he trying to scare the crap out of me? Because it’s working. I try to keep my composure. Don’t predators smell fear? This man is definitely a predator. There’s no doubt about that.
“I didn’t use it,” I clarify again, wanting to make sure I get that point across.
“You bought it for someone else?” His brows furrow together, and I notice a deep cut through the right one. It's not one of those stupid ones people are doing to themselves; the scar is jagged.
“Yes.”
“Who?” He takes another step closer.
“If you give me tonight, I’ll have the rest of the money tomorrow.” I’ll bust my ass tonight for tips, but hopefully when my mom comes home from her shift, she’ll top up my savings with some tips too.
Mom makes way more than I can in a night, but she does have to be topless while she serves drinks to men. It’s not much different than what I do really. I just serve pie, soda, and burgers to some creepy men, but I get a cheap polyester uniform to cover me up, even if it’s a size too small.
“Who? I don’t like repeating myself.” Right, why did I think I could dodge that question?
“I bought it for a friend.” I know my mom got me into this mess, but I don’t want to send these men—I’m calling them men even if I think they are only a few years older than me—her way.
He clears the space between us in two strides, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to stare up into his dark eyes.
“My mom, okay?” Fuck, I suck. I broke in two seconds. It really shouldn't be shocking. I guess it doesn’t take much to break me. My mom did get me to buy her drugs, but what choice did I have? She was vomiting and shaking. The crazy thing is they made her better.
His brows lift in surprise. “Your mom?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I don’t like repeating myself, but I manage to hold it in. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek and simply nod.