The S.W.A.G Code (PUBLISHED)

3

I am awoken when Dad rips my comforter from my body. My alarm has yet to go off and when I look over at it, it says I still have an hour before I need to wake up. There is only one reason why Dad could be waking me up this early. It is never about Jordan. He has never woken me up because of Jordan. I spent half the night easing myself down from my panic attack and I finally got to bed around two. It's five now. I know Dad usually gets up this early for work and leaves before me and Jordan wake up.

"I need you to run some things to a client," Dad says fast, as if he's in a hurry.

I groan and roll over onto my back, stretching. "I don't want to."

He throws a duffle bag onto my stomach. God, it's heavy. "I have to get to work early today and don't have time to run this to them."

I push the bag off of me and rub my eyes. "I have school."

"Not for another few hours. Now, get dressed and I want you upstairs in twenty."

He walks out of the bedroom as I groan in annoyance.

I'm out the door right before five-thirty. The sun is barely peaking over the horizon and the roads are near to empty. The address my dad gave me is for a not-so-good neighborhood about twenty minutes out of town. I'm not surprised. He never has clients in town.

I feel bad for doing this, but I grab my phone and call up Ms. Murphy. I know my dad, and he most likely will leave Jordan alone in the house while no one else is home. He did that to me when I was younger than Jordan, but I also wasn't sick with cancer. I can't risk something bad happening to him while no one is around.

I dial Ms. Murphy's house phone while at a red light. I tap the steering wheel with each passing ring, the phone pressed to my ear. She answers right before the phone goes to voicemail.

"Hey, Benjamin," she says on her end. "Why the early call?"

I hate to lie to Ms. Murphy, but I have no other choice at the moment. "I was wondering if you can go to the house to pick up Jordan. Coach is requiring us to show up for an early practice to prepare for the big game coming up and Dad has to be at work early."

I can hear shuffling on her end. "Okay, I'll head over in a bit."

"Thank you. And if Jordan's not feeling well or has a slight fever, keep him home from school. If he feels fine and his temperature is normal, he can go."

"Will do, Benjamin. And have fun at practice."

"Thanks. See you later." I hang up the phone and toss it on the passenger seat. Looking out ahead, I can tell I am about to enter the bad neighborhood. Looking out at the people leaving their homes, mostly to smoke, and all I can think is this is the definition of white trash.

I pull into a steep, gravel driveway at the end of a sideroad. A man is up at the house taking out the trash and a woman is sitting in a chair on the porch, smoking a cigarette and sipping out of a beer bottle. The woman spots me as I park and calls out to the man. I put my phone in my front pocket and grab the duffel bag, take a deep breath, and get out of the car.

The man throws me a scowl as I make my way over. He is walking towards me. "Who the hell are you?" His voice has a deep slur to it.

I adjust the strap on my shoulder and try to hide my discomfort in the situation. I offer him a friendly wave. "Hey, I'm Ben Luther. Keith Luther's son."

"The dying one?" The way he says that makes me want to blind him right here, right now.

"No, the other one," I say quietly but loud enough for him to hear.