Don't Get Angry

17- Otis: Black Spot

I walked down my front steps and made my way over to Penny's. Peter was just stepping out of the house with a duffle bag. "I was just coming over."

"Sorry, buddy." He walked over to his trunk and opened it. Then he lifted the bag and put it in.

"What's in the bag?" I squinted at him.

"Can't say." He chuckled uncomfortably.

I slowly nodded, then rage began to come over me. I rushed over to him. "Listen!" Pushed him up against his car, and glared into his eyes. "I didn't risk my life to have you go back and do something stupid-"

He pushed me away, then fixed his jacket. "That's not what I'm doing." He walked over to his door. "Just stay out of my way." He got into the car.

I watched him drive off.

"Otis."

I turned around. Dalta stood on the front steps of the house with a smile. I sighed, then I made my way over to her. "I have to talk to you."

Her smile dropped and her eyes looked down. "I understand-"

"I think there's more to this than we...I thought. You may be right about Betty and Peter."

She looked up at me again.

"You need to talk to Betty."

"I can't. I've called her so many times, but it keeps telling me that her number's been disconnected."

"Well, Peter won't say anything. What about Chad?"

Dalta grabbed my hand and pulled me down the steps then far away from the house. "If Peter's really a part of something criminal...we can't just go over there and ask Chad if he's a part of it too. So, what's the plan here?"

I looked down and folded my arms.

* * *

We got out of my car, staring up at the house nearly twice the size of mine. My eyes met the black spot in the driveway, the red Chevy beside it suddenly looking worth less than it was. We started making our way towards the house. Dalta suddenly grabbed my hand. "I change my mind. We can't go-"

"Dal," I chuckled and stood in front of her, holding her other hand. "It'll be fine."

"What if he remembers me?"

"Excuse me?" Someone called out from the front door.

I turned to them. A tall guy, blonde, looked like a Chad, stood on the steps with folded arms.

"Need something?"

I looked at Dalta. She was frozen, her eyes wide. I sighed and turned to Chad. "Hi. We're friends of Betty F-"

"You wouldn't call her Betty F. if you were her friends."

"I'm her friend," Dalta stepped forward. "I go to her dad's church and we've been friends for a while."

Chad stared at Dalta the way I looked at a freshly opened bag of chips.

"Dalta," I squeezed her hand, and whispered to her," we're dating. Okay?"

"What?" She turned to me with bright eyes.

"If he asks."

"Oh...Yeah, sure."

"Why are you guys here?" Chad squinted at us.

"We wanna talk about her," I scratched the back of my head. "Ask you a few questions."

"Are you guys trying to find her?"

"N-"

"Yes," Dalta cut me off.