Saving Grace

Chapter Nine: Settling Troubled Waters

Preston sat in one of the old blue plastic seats outside ofthe ice rink, ignoring the rest of his teammates' practice while he stared atthe fraying edges of his pants. The events of the last few months were runningthrough his mind, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he thought maybeTillie was right; maybe they shouldpostpone their trip, he hadn't even told the rest of the guys about the minorleague team that had scouted him and deemed him worthy enough to go play forthem yet anyway. But every fiber of his being was telling him to go. They weresaying Gracie could handle things, and Charlie had skin as thick as steel. Heand Tillie could still leave. He could still follow his dreams and they couldescape at the same time.

But deep down he knew it was wrong. Every selfish feeling hehad went against every moral in his body, but if he stayed even worse thingscould happen. And he couldn't risk it when it came to Tillie; she waseverything to him. If they left the next day when their flight was scheduled toleave, they'd have a chance at making a decent life together. They wouldn'thave to worry about Tillie's family business, and they wouldn't have to worryabout whether or not they had the money to bail Gracie out of jail, or aboutstaying up all night with a flu-ridden, Charlie. They could worry about afamily of their own, a life of their own, that didn't include the mistakestheir families had made.

They could be free.

His pager vibrated in his pocket and when he saw the numberflashing across his scratched up screen, he wanted to throw it into the cementbeneath his feet, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. A phone call from Gracienever brought good news. Ever.

Standing up, he wandered over to the payphone on the walland dialed the number he knew by heart. "Hello," he grudgingly greeted, stillfurious at the fact that she'd refused to tell him what their father had toldher.

"Listen, Press I'm reallysorry but-"

"No," Prestongrowled. "I'm sick of fucking helpingyou out of your stupid mess. You wanna be on your own? Well here, now you are.I'm leaving with Tillie tomorrow."And he almost hung up, but before hecould Gracie blurted,

"Social Services picked us up. Said they had to throw us inthe system if we had no guardian. Preston, just come get us, then you can dowhatever you want," the desperation that laced her voice was almost tangible.

Preston's heart raced against his chest. He opened his mouthto say okay, but the word lodged in his throat. If he said yes he'd be stuckwith his father's crappy life forever. They'd be scraping to make ends meet andconstantly looking over their shoulders. He couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Gracie. But you turn eighteen in two months. Youcan last a couple months in foster care. It won't be that bad," and he couldn't believe he heard the words coming out ofhis own mouth, sounding nearly as desperate as his sister had.

"Swine," Gracie barkedfuriously, hanging up.

"You're really going to leave them like this?" Tillie askedsoftly from behind him, and Preston jumped, not having heard her approach. Shegently took his hand and led him to two empty chairs; unfolding the seat nextto him and sliding down into it, shoving her hands into the pockets of her darkpurple hoodie.