Oddity

20

Not all of them would fit in my car, so three of them remained at the house, and all I could do was pray that Dad would not be home for a while.

Zack and his friends continued to laugh and be obnoxious in the car. I wanted desperately to punch Zack, but I knew I would get in trouble, and he would not.

Zack gave me directions, and even that was too much interaction. I did not want to speak with him.

I did not like that this was happening in the dark. I did not like that Dad could be home at any time. I did not like that there were still intoxicated teenagers in my bedroom.

We eventually ended up in a nice looking suburban neighborhood. Zack guided me to the park near the end of the neighborhood.

I had a bad feeling about this situation, and I considered turning around and driving home, but instead I parked in front of the park.

"Thanks Scott, I owe you," Zack assured me before opening his door. I flared my nostrils angrily, and did not give a response.

Once the 4 of them flooded out of the car, I rolled down my window slightly and watched as they approached the tree in the center of the park.

I narrowed my eyes as two figures emerged from behind the tree. There were streetlamps all over the neighborhood, and they were dim.

But I did not need a lot of light to know that one of the figures was Michael Turner.

My blood ran cold. Michael Turner was selling my brother drugs. That was not okay.

"Who's that? We said only you and your friends," the other figure spat, pointing in my direction. They were far enough that his voice was quiet, but I was still close enough to be spotted.

"It's just my brother, he's not gonna tell anyone, I swear," Zack assured them, carelessly.

Once all of their attention was averted to me, my stomach sank.

"No way! Freakazoid is your brother?" Michael Turner exclaimed.

Without thinking, I opened my car door and bounded in Michael's direction.

"Scott, don't!" Zack exclaimed in shock.

I was blinded by anger when my fingers gripped onto the collar of Michael's shirt. "You're the one who's been selling my brother pot?" I growled, shaking him harshly.

"Hey man, get off!" The other man demanded, gripping at my hands and wrists.

"Scott, let him go," Zack ordered, tugging at the back of my shirt.

Michael chuckled, "Pot? That's cute. These little tikes have already upgraded to the good stuff," he assured me, before mimicking a sniffing sound.

My blood boiled with anger, and I wanted to do violent things.

"You better get your brother off of him before I put a bullet through his head," the other man threatened, drawing a gun from the waistband of his shorts.

My eyes stared down the barrel of his gun.