Chapter 2
Just as something suddenly came hurling toward my head, Brett lunged forward, trying to yank me out of the way.
But he was a split second too late.
The porcelain clipped the corner of my eye, and a sharp sting shot through me, and everything went fuzzy for a second.
Instinctively, I crouched down, snatched up a shard of broken porcelain, ready to storm in and carve up that woman's face.
Over the years, I'd been hit more times than I could count, but I'd never just taken it lying down.
But as soon as I gripped that shard in my hand, Brett swung his phone around, the flashlight beam landing on my face, his voice tight with worry.
"Where are you hurt? Let me see," he said.
I kept the shard hidden behind my back.
With a loud click, the light inside suddenly flicked on.
A middle-aged woman in a wheelchair was glaring at us, her face twisted with anger and full of menace.
She wheeled herself out, slapping her thigh and throwing a fit.
She shouted, "Everyone, come see this!
"Hey, everybody, get out here and look at this.
"My own son won't even cook for his crippled mother. He just wants me to starve."
Down the damp hallway, old doors started creaking open one after another.
Heads poked out, some with looks of disgust, others clearly just here for the show.
Her screeching accusations echoed even louder down the hallway.
She yelled, "All these years, I've suffered so much because of him.
"His real dad gives him money, and he blows it all on that old hag out there.
"He's so young. Doesn't he worry about catching something gross?"
"Enough," Brett said, his hands balled into fists.
His veins bulged on the backs of his hands and across his forehead. He was barely holding back his anger.
He marched over, not giving her a chance to protest, and pushed her wheelchair.
"Let's talk inside," he said.
She was still fuming.
Suddenly, she noticed me.
She whipped her head around, her glare locking onto me when she saw me coming in after them.
"I-Isn't she that little brat the old hag gave birth to?" she spat.
Suddenly I remembered we'd met before.
After my mom conned Brett out of his money.
His mom stormed over and got into a hair-pulling fight with my mom.
The neighbors were cheering them on.
I looked down, feeling a little guilty.
But she still recognized me and screeched at the top of her lungs, "Brett, what the hell are you thinking?
"That old hag finally got what was coming to her, and now you want to take in her stray brat?
"Did you chop up your brain along with those fish?"
Brett's face flushed with shame and embarrassment.
He quickly pushed his mom into the bedroom.
Afraid I'd hear more, he shut the door.
But I still heard his voice, barely above a whisper, through the crack in the door.
He said, "She's got nowhere else to go.
"Once I get the orphanage sorted out, I'll send her there."
His mom said, "You better not ever leave me alone with her.
"Or I'll make sure I kill her with my own hands."
I couldn't catch the rest of their argument.
It seemed like I couldn't stick around here much longer.
And there was pretty much zero chance I'd ever get to see his dad hand him any cash.
My mom used to drill this into me when I was a kid.
"You can be dirt poor, but you can't ever be broke," Mom always said.
I dropped my backpack and started rifling through drawers and cabinets like a pro.
Leaving or not, there was no way I was walking out of here without snagging something for myself.
But after searching through everything for a while, I came up with nothing.
There wasn't a single thing of value, not even a couple dollars in loose change.
No wonder Mom bailed on him in under a month. I couldn't blame her.
I fumed, totally frustrated and annoyed.
I pulled open the last drawer, and inside was a bunch of useless junk and scraps of paper.
Frustrated, I dumped everything out all at once.
Suddenly, I heard something hit the floor with a faint clink.
It rolled toward the window.
In the moonlight, it sparkled with a golden glow.
A bracelet lay there.
It had been hidden at the very bottom of the drawer, and now it rolled out.
In a dump like this, there was no way it was actual gold.
But even if it was just gold-plated, it'd still fetch a few bucks.
My heart leapt with excitement.
I practically tumbled and crawled my way to the window, grabbed the bracelet, and shoved it into my pocket as fast as I could.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Brett's voice came through.
He said, "Hey, you in there?
"I'm making dinner. Anything you want?"
I scrambled to stuff the papers back into the drawer and slammed it shut.
Then I hastily yanked a textbook out of my backpack.
I flipped it open and spread it out on the desk by the window.
I'd barely sat down when Brett pushed the door open and walked in.
As he walked over, my palms suddenly broke out in a cold sweat.
I'd done plenty of shady stuff before.
But this time, for some reason, I was way more nervous than usual.
After a while, I heard his voice from above, sounding confused.
"Why haven't you written a single word, and you're sweating like crazy?" he asked.
Feeling guilty as hell, I made something up on the spot.
"It's so dark in here, I can't even make out the questions," I said.
Back when I was still living at home, I'd usually hole up in the kitchen corner just to get my homework done.
The light there was way darker than here.
Every time my mom came back, she always came home smelling like cheap liquor or screaming about how luck had screwed her again.
Sometimes, if she got lucky, she'd drag home a bunch of different men.
All those guys would give me the same creepy, sleazy look every time.
The kitchen was the only spot where I could stay invisible.
Honestly, bad lighting never bothered me at all.
But Brett looked up at the yellowed lampshade on the ceiling.
He was clearly strapped for cash.
But after a moment, he spoke up again.
He said, "Yeah, it's kinda dark in here.
"After dinner, I'll pick up a lamp."
He shot a glance at the bed.
His clothes were still tossed at the foot, and the blankets were folded up nice and tidy.
He got up, walked over, and picked up his clothes.