Losing His Fix

17

Roland's POV

"Where's Andrew," I asked as I sat in the back of the car we were about to try and sell. Andrew normally followed behind us in his own car so we would have a way to get back to camp if the car sold but he wasn't behind us and Mary didn't say anything about meeting us there.

"He's running a few minutes late," she said with a small shrug but something told me she wasn't telling the full truth.

I huffed as I leaned farther back into the seat and glared out the window. I didn't like this at all. We had a routine. A routine that was set in stone since the first time we started doing this and now it was wrong.

Andrew was supposed to be here. He did the talking, he walked people through the cost, the value, the work I put into it, everything that I couldn't put into words correctly in front of people I didn't know and now he wasn't here. Mary could do it, but it's the fact that Andrew was supposed to be here and wasn't.

"I'd like to go back to camp now please," I said because even though I didn't want to be doing this, manners Roland!

Mary frowned as she looked at me through the review mirror.

"You don't want to sell the car?"

"Not without Andrew."

"He's going to meet us there," she promised with a weak smile.

"I don't like the way this feels."

"What does it feel like," she asked and for once this question wasn't asked in mockery the way other people often asked that question. She genuinely wanted to know how it felt and I liked that but I couldn't put it into words.

"It feels different."

"It is," she said with a small sigh. "But different isn't bad."

"Different is unpredictable," I told her as I glared at her though she couldn't see it with her eyes on the road. "I don't like different. I like things to be the same every time we do them. This is not the same and I would like to go back now, please."

"Can you explain to me what the worst thing that could happen is?"

"We have to walk back to camp because Andrew didn't pick us up." It would be a long walk and would be dark by the time we got back. I would have to miss dinner and then take my shower late. Then I would have to go to bed late and wake up tomorrow feeling sleepy and not wanting to do anything so I would take a nap and then by the time it was time to go to bed for the night I wouldn't be tired anymore and would stay up too late and then the cycle just continues. "This could also be a trap."

"What kind of trap," Mary asked with a frown, completely ignoring my first concern to continue the drive. I wanted her to turn back.

"Are you sending me away?"

I didn't want to go back to foster care. I thought that I had made it clear that was the last thing I wanted but the idea still had my heart beating out of my chest. I had messed up badly. Staying out past curfew, running away from Mary, yelling at her earlier that day; it was clearly too much. I wasn't worth the trouble anymore. She was going to ship off to the first home with an open spot and I didn't even get to pack up a trash bag. All of Kit's clothes he let me keep would be thrown away, the mold of his hand would be tossed out, our birdhouses would rot, and our welcome mat would get dirty from the next people in that cabin stepping on it. My tools would probably be donated and the next person wouldn't take care of them. I had paid for those with my own money and I wasn't even going to be able to bring them with me.

My chest felt tight as I flapped my hands on my lap. I could feel the tears in my eyes begin to build up as I tried to keep them from falling. I couldn't breathe and Mary's voice seemed far away. I could feel the vibrations from the road as she pulled off to the shoulder before stepping out of the car and opening the door closest to me.

She crouched down beside me, a small smile on her face as she took in the likely pathetic sight of me and I couldn't help but think that smile was because she was happy this would be the last time she had to deal with a meltdown.