Chasing Cars

Chapter Nine

Spotify ads. A disgrace to the entire human population. Yes, we know about KFC and we would all love to have Spotify in a premium version so we didn't have to hear the never ending ads.

I sighed, waiting for the thirty second, turned thirty year ad rolled by, until Eric Church began playing softly into my ears. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, just trying to piece together my existence in this world for the third time in the past ten minutes. I stole a glance at the clock hanging on the cream colored kitchen wall. As if it was mocking me, the red second hand went by in long, painful moments going tick.....tick.....tick.

I was about ready to grab my mom's frying pan and beat the clock before I beat someone instead of something. Too bad I was much shorter in this wheelchair, or nothing would've stopped me from flying across the kitchen and just ripping the clock out of the wall before I went insane. Too late, insanity had arrived.

Algebra had gone just as I'd known it would, lonely and cold. Same with every other class I had. It never changed, people laughed at me and talked about me as if I was deaf or not there at all. It was okay though, I was used to it. It wasn't like they were torturing me. Nothing could beat my time in Charleston's office.

Only it wasn't the loneliness that ate at my heart like a parasite, no, it was the thoughts that were running through my head. It's safe to say that I am a pretty selfless person, but while I was sitting in my wheelchair, doing the wretched algebra problems, I couldn't stop wishing it was somebody else.

I know, it's completely selfish to wish your suffering onto another human being, but come on! What had I done to be beaten by a psycho principal and stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life? Don't forget the druggie parents as well.

I continued to stare in frustration at the homework until I heard the frontdoor be pushed open harshly. I winced. That poor door was about ready to be torn off at the hinges and I swear it was getting closer with every creak.

"Mom?" I asked, not even bothering to look up. since Dad died, who else would be aloud to barge into the house with no invitation.

"Here," without even a hello, Mom slammed some paper down in front of me, blocking the equation I worked so hard on trying to figure out. "What's this?" I asked, holding the crisp white pages.

"Read it, Stupid," my mom answered, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard and turning the faucet on. I turned toward the papers. Both sheets were completely covered in eight point print that I had to squint to be able to look at properly.

Most of the words were rubbish that didn't mean anything, but it didn't take me a long time to figure out that these documents were about the drug business. I read three more sentences before putting the papers back down and giving my mom a look.

"You're giving me the drug business."

I said it more as a statement than a question, but my mom only nodded before setting her water glass down. "Yes. Your father never taught me much on how to bargain for the drugs, but he's been teaching you since you were three years old. You'll handle it better than me."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The drug business was a risky thing, I'd seen my father get stabbed countless times by an unhappy customer. The people who bought the various drugs never cared much for bargaining.

"So," I began, speaking slowly so Mom could understand what she was being told. "You are going to put me, a paralyzed teenager, in charge of selling drugs to bulky men n their forties? mom these men carry guns on them. Fully loaded and ready to kill a person with. And you are forcing your paralyzed daughter to deal with it."

I didn't mention that right now, if I turned her in for drug usage, I would be treated like a victim and my mother would be jailed. If she put me in charge of the business, I was just as much of a criminal as she was. I didn't want to be that way, even though I'd known for a long time that this fate was inevitable.

"Sorry Karev, it has to be this way," Mom shrugged, lighting a cigarette. I exaggerated a cough loud enough for her to roll her eyes at.

"Why do I have the sketchy mom?" I asked nobody in particular, but I got an answer from a gruff sounding man.

"Because your mom has a debt to pay. Where's my cash?!" the man yelled. I spun around. The man looked exactly like I thought he would. Bulky, veins popping out of his arms and tattoos covering his entire body. No hair anywhere on his head but he had too many piercings to count.

My mom didn't just stand there, she jumped up and ran up the stairs to grab cash. When she came down, she had four one hundreds in her left hand. "Here you go, Walter," she said nervously, handing him the cash.

Walter just slammed the door in her face and stalked off. Though I was long used to scary people high on drugs coming to our house, I'd never seen that man once in my life. However, if Mom knew his name then he must be a regular.

I didn't bother asking. If Mom had never said anything, she wasn't going to do it now. All I could think about was that I, Karev Grey, paralyzed teen loser, was now in charge of a massive drug industry.

How was I ever going to get myself out of yet another sticky situation?

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I'm tired but I don't care because I love writing chapters for this book. I'm so sorry for the delayed update! I'm trying to get back on track so please don't hate me:)

~Adriana