Chapter 5
Kaz
Seventeen years old
“No, no, no…where is it?” I mutter to myself while searching my closet for the third time. There is no sign of the zipper pouch containing the money I have been saving up for the past year anywhere. I don’t know why I am still looking. I know exactly where it was—safely shoved in an old shoebox behind a small pile of clothes in the back of my tiny makeshift closet. The shoebox was there when I came home, closed up tight.
I knew the minute I walked into my room that something was wrong. I slump down against my closet wall and wipe the lone tear that slides down my cheek. All of my savings just…gone. I can’t escape this hellhole if I can’t pay for college. That was enough money to get me through at least the first year. I planned on earning the rest each summer in between.
“Charisma, baby, where are you? Can you bring me some water?” I hear my mother yell groggily through the paper-thin wall of our trailer. I walk out of my door and turn into her room to see her slumped over the side of her bed like she dropped something on the floor. Her hair is a matted mess, and the dingy nightshirt she is wearing has burn holes scattered across it.
“Jesus, Mother,” I say, rushing in and lifting her body up to sit against the wall. Track marks cover her arm, making me grimace. My foot kicks something on the ground, and I lean down to pick up the lighter she must have dropped.
“Were you in my room, Mother? Did you go through my things?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about," she mumbles incoherently, with her eyes closed. No doubt, nodding off again. How convenient, I think to myself as I roll my eyes. She doesn’t notice as I pocket her lighter and leave the room to head to our small kitchen and fill her a glass of water. The screen door slams, causing me to jump, and I spin around quickly. Pete, my mother’s dealer boyfriend, waltzes in like he owns the place before leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He stares at me, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“She’s in her room,” I say, gesturing to her doorway before turning around and putting the glass on the countertop. I close my eyes and try to conjure up any image in my head to erase Pete’s disgusting face from my mind. A body pushes against me from behind, making my stomach roll. Pete puts both hands on the counter, caging me in.
“You’re filling out more and more every day, Kaz. When you gonna let me tap this?” He grinds his dick against my ass, making me cringe. I spin around attempting to push him back, but he is much bigger and stronger than me. He cages me in further, causing me to lean back over the counter.
“Never gonna happen,” I grit out.
He laughs in my face, showing off his yellow teeth.
“Never say never, sweetness. Your mama likes this dick. Hell, every other drug whore in this trailer park likes this dick. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be down on your knees begging for a bag of rocks, too.”
I push him again, and he steps back this time. Grabbing the glass of water from the counter, I shove it into his hand.
“I’m not a whore, and I’m never gonna come begging for drugs.”
I hear his laugh follow behind me as I grab my hoodie off the couch and escape out the front door. The sound of the screen slams behind me, and I throw my hood over my head as I jog across the dead lawn and onto the small road. I can still hear Pete laughing as I make my way out of the trailer park. Fucking disgusting asshole. I’m a block down the road when a beat-up Ford F-150 pulls next to me. A smile forms on my face when I see my best friend, Ben, in the driver’s seat.
“Hey, sweet cheeks, you need a ride?” he asks in his most obnoxious, trucker voice.
I visibly cringe, making him laugh out loud before opening the passenger door and hopping in. “This is nice,” I say, running my fingers across the dash. “Whose is it?”
“Mine," he replies with a smile. “It ain’t a Jag, but I guess it’ll do.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Anything is nice when you don’t have a car, Ben.”
“True. Why haven’t you used your money to get a car yet?”
He’s not wrong in asking. My eyes linger on the corded muscles in his arm as he drives the truck. I don’t know when, but at some point, my best friend went from boy to man.
“Stop checking me out and answer my question, Kaz." he laughs. “You know I don’t play for your team.”
“I know, I know, but if you did…”
“It would be you," he smirks while finishing my sentence.
I lean back in the chair and sigh. “You know I was saving it for college. I can’t rely on underground fighting forever. I want to get out of here. I need to get away.”
He nods his head in agreement. “I get it, and I don’t blame you. You’re right; you can’t fight forever. Plus, your hacking skills are subpar at best, so we know you won’t be making money off that unless you plan to sell fake IDs forever," he jokes.
I shove him in the arm and turn on the radio. One year ago, Ben introduced me to a few people who ran an underground fighting ring. He didn’t want to, but I begged him one day when he showed up at my house with bruised ribs, a black eye, and a wad of cash. I started training with them the next day and was ready for my first fight within six months. There aren’t many girls who fight in the underground, so I had been against a guy who was thankfully in my weight class. I won my first fight thanks to his cocky attitude and slow right hook. After that, the fighting became addictive. The money was even more addictive. I know I can’t risk fighting like that once I’m in college full-time. Out here, it isn’t unusual for trailer trash to sport bruises and split lips. I could never walk around like that in the city, at least not if I wanted to be a lawyer someday.
The music shuts off, pulling me from my thoughts. “What’s going on, Kaz?” Ben asks me. “You okay?”
I blow out a breath before answering. “All my money is gone.”
“What?” Ben asks. “Do you think it was Pete or your mom?”
I scrunch my eyebrows up. I didn’t even think about Pete taking it. Shaking my head, I sigh. “No, I’m pretty sure it was my mother. I don’t think Pete would take the time to look through my stuff like that.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. What are you gonna do?”
“I think I might have to defer college for a year. See if I can save up enough money to take some extra classes to make up the difference,” I respond sadly.
“What if I told you I could hack the system? What if you start taking prerequisites now at a cheaper college, and once you have those under your belt, I can hack in and add you to the system of a more prestigious college? It would help you get hired at a big corporate law firm, and you could work your way up once you're in the door.”
My eyes go wide. “You could actually do that?”
“I can do a lot of shit now, Kaz. I’ll even teach you some more stuff over the next couple of years just in case you need that skill set when you're a big wig in New York City," he says laughing as he pulls his truck into the little diner his parents run. It turns out that I would need those skills more than I had ever imagined.