Chasing Cars

Chapter Six

Friday came a heck of a lot faster than I thought it would. Not that I was complaining - I'd do anything to get out if my house at this point. Between the smell of fresh-cooking drugs and the annoying high pitched sound of my mother weeping, I was beyond ready to get out.

I had everything packed (with a little help from Sue) on Thursday so I was ready to leave when the time came. Before that time, however, I was busy helping my mom mix the two days worth of meth that I'd be missing out on while I was gone for the weekend. In the middle of my cooking, my drug phone rang. Private number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is the Grey residence?"

"Sure is, have you ordered anything or would you like to make one...?"

"I have a pending order for three large bags of cocaine, two boxes of method and heroine mixed, and five boxes of homemade cigarettes."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Dawson, right?"

"That's me, is my order in yet?"

"Yes it is - you can come by at 3:00 to pick it up like we confirmed last phone call."

"Okay thank you much. Bye bye."

I almost threw the phone back on the counter. I absolutely hated these phone calls. Normal-sounding people constantly calling for drugs so they could get high and end up behind bars. Behind bars. That's where I'd be if the fuzz ever found out about our drug dealership. If it wasn't for our constant phone switching and secret meetings to get the drugs where they needed to be and when, the business would be long shut down, and even I would've been in jail, even before, when I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

I tried to imagine a young girl like me rotting in a cell. A lame, smart girl stuck in jail before she was even eighteen years old. And for what? So her parents could make pocket money off of illegal drugs? That's just sick. What's even worse is that the only reason you're here today, Karev, is because your parents wanted to be able to pass the business onto someone else when they were unable to do it themselves, I thought to myself. It was true - my parents never wanted kids, they just thought that being able to give drug duty to someone else when they were old and nearly dead would be a good thing to do.

A car horn honked and I stopped mixing. "Gotta go Mom, see you Sunday. DO NOT forget to pick me up again like last time!" I shouted and grabbed my stuff. "I won't, don't worry!" My mom shouted back as she took over mixing the drug. It kind of frustrated me that she had never offered to help me so far when it came to my broken spine. Never once had she held a door or offered to carry my things. Of course, I expected this behaviour from her. Like I had said before, she never wanted me.

"Maybe that's why you're so screwed up," I could almost hear Amy's voice now. I shoved away that memory, it wasn't one I liked to drag out that much. I had slapped her right in her fat face that day, refusing to accept what she was saying, even if it was the truth.

Sue ran up to the door and knocked. "It's open," I called from inside. When Sue opened the door and saw me struggling she gasped. "Karev what happend!? You never told me you were in a wheelchair!? How on Earth..." She couldn't believe that I hadn't told her earlier. "I'll tell you later," I whispered, glancimg into the kitchen to see if my mom was listening or not. "But for now, let's just say I fell down the stairs."