April

Wesley—Eighteen Years Old

It’s the first warm day of spring, and John and I are outside, washing his car. There’s only two months left of senior year, and things are about to change in a very real way. My probation is over, thank God. Bryce was right; I only got probation since it was my first offense. The fact that I was a minor when it happened meant that my records were sealed when I turned eighteen.

I’m no longer a convicted felon.

But…

I’m still a drug dealer.

The only difference is that, now, I’m a scared shitless, broke drug dealer.

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is distance myself from Anna.

The hurt in her eyes was obvious at first, though she tried not to let it show. Once she started dating Charlie, it was easy to stay away. Even though I wanted her to move on, it still sucked.

John wasn’t as easily pushed away. He wouldn’t leave me alone, even when I acted like an asshole.

I finally broke down and told him everything. The drugs. The arrest. Bryce threatening Anna. I thought he’d hate me. Or at least stay away to keep himself safe.

He didn’t though. He’s still my best friend.

It helps, knowing he’s looking out for Anna, too. And, though we’ve tried to brainstorm ways to get me out of this never-ending hell, Bryce doesn’t leave any breadcrumbs for me to turn him in. At this point, even if I tried, I’d just be turning myself in.

The only bright spot that came from all of this is working for Habitat for Humanity. It was a part of my probation—every Saturday for a year. Instead of being a sentence, it turned into my nirvana. I love building things, and the carpenters working on the projects taught me a lot. At first, they gave me the easy jobs, things I couldn’t fuck up. Once I started bombarding them with questions and occasionally suggested a new way to tweak the design, they realized I actually liked the work. Better yet, I’m good at it. Even though my probation is over, I still help them every Saturday, and I found a part-time job working for Eddie Banks, one of the carpenters I met there.

“Hey, you’re staying for dinner tonight, right?” John asks as we finish polishing his car with a coat of wax.

“Not tonight.” I rub away the waxy film and see my reflection on his car.

I used to stay for dinner almost every night. But I don’t want Bryce or his goons to see me here all the time. Plus, I just can’t stomach seeing Anna and Charlie together.

I remind myself daily that it was my decision. I thought things would be better this way. They are better this way. Charlie is good to Anna. He’s completely smitten with her. And I never catch him talking smack about her when he’s with his friends at school.

So, she should be on cloud nine.

Except she isn’t. She’s been crying a lot lately. She puts on a brave face for everyone, but I know Anna. I’ve spent too much time looking at her, memorizing the planes of her face, the curve of her cheeks, the dip in her upper lip, not to notice when she’s upset.

For the past couple of weeks, her eyes have been red-rimmed, the line of her upper lip blurry, her smile forced instead of spontaneous.

Something is wrong.

I wonder if Charlie did something to her. Did he break her heart? I’ll kill him if he did. Well, maybe not kill him. Just ruin his pretty-boy face with a couple of punches. Doesn’t he realize how amazing she is? How could he hurt her?

“Come on, Mom’s making lasagna, one of your favorites. Besides, you haven’t stayed over for dinner in months. My parents are worried about you.”

I pass the cloth over an already waxed and buffed spot on the car, stalling. I really don’t want to sit through an awkward, tense dinner, but Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy have done so much for me.

I give in with a sigh. “Okay.”

We collect the cleaning supplies and head to the garage to put them away.

“Have you noticed Anna acting weird, or is it just me?”

“She had the flu last week. I’m sure she’s just recovering. She stayed home from school Monday and Tuesday.”

I shrug. “Yeah, that could be it. But she seems kinda sad. Did she and Charlie break up or something?”

He scratches his head, repositioning his baseball hat. “Not that I know of. I’m sure she’s fine.” He dismisses my concerns.

I’m not so sure.

Her behavior at dinner convinces me I’m right. Her eyes are red-rimmed again, her nose red and puffy, like she spent the last hour wiping it with tissues. And her form-fitting athletic gear is replaced with an oversized hoodie sweatshirt. She barely touches the lasagna on her plate, pushing it as far away as possible instead of eating a second helping like she usually does.

I try to catch John’s eye and signal to him, but he keeps just carrying on about the pharmacy courses he wants to take. He’s going to Ohio State University in the fall and debating between pre-med and pharmacy.

“What about you, Wesley?” Mr. Bellamy asks. “John mentioned the community college.”

I clear my throat. “Yes, I want to enroll in the carpentry program.”

“You didn’t enroll yet?” Mrs. Bellamy’s eyebrows pinch in concern. “Are you behind schedule?”

I hesitate to expand on this, knowing they’ll want to help me. “They still have spots open. I just need to find a roommate and see how many hours Eddie can give me.”

As soon as I graduate high school, I won’t have a place with the Andersons anymore. I’m lucky enough they’ve kept me past my eighteenth birthday, but the state will keep paying them until I graduate from high school. Even if a studio apartment is all I can afford, I’m looking forward to getting my own space.

Sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy exchange glances. The tense look on my face must tell them not to offer any help because they don’t.

“That’s a real good plan. I’m sure you’re learning a lot, working at Banks Carpentry, too.”

“I am. Eddie’s a great boss.”

Anna hasn’t looked my way once, and it fills me with…loneliness. I miss my friend. She doesn’t offer up a minute-to-minute account of her day like she used to. Rather, she stays pretty quiet, only answering her parents’ direct questions.

After dinner, I say my good-byes, declining John’s offer to drive me home, and make my way outside. A run sounds like the perfect way to get rid of this nervous energy.

I’m surprised when Anna follows me out.

“Hey.” The word gets stuck, so I clear my throat.

It’s been a while since we talked alone, and my heart is trying to escape my chest. I even out my breathing hoping that my heart rate will slow down, too.

“Hey,” she greets. “Mind if I walk with you?”

Though it isn’t very late, it’ll be dark soon, and I don’t like the idea of her walking alone. But still, there must be a reason she sought me out, and I’m dying to know what that is.

“Sure. What’s up?” I slow to almost a snail’s pace, lingering near her house.

I watch her intently, but she won’t meet my eyes. Instead, she wraps her arms around her middle and chews on her cheek. Then, she pulls her upper lip in between her teeth, the way she does when she’s about to cry.

I ache to touch her. To pull her into my arms and tell her she’s safe with me. That she can tell me whatever’s bothering her, and I’ll do anything I can to help her.

I settle for laying a hand on her shoulder. She startles at my touch.

“Anna, look at me.”

She takes a deep breath, as if she needs fortification, then meets my gaze. Her chocolate-brown eyes aren’t warm and soft. Instead, they’re glassy and…scared?

“You okay?”

“I need a favor,” she blurts.

My eyes widen. What could she need? I’m afraid to even guess.

“Anything.”

“Can you get me a fake ID?”

Uh…that is not what I was expecting her to ask me for, not at all. My face must show my confusion.

“I don’t need it to say I’m twenty-one. I know I look too young to pass for that. But can you get one that says I’m eighteen?”

“Why do you need to be eighteen?” Anyone who wants a fake usually wants it to buy alcohol or get into clubs. Why bother getting one if it only says you’re eighteen?

She hesitates. “I just need it, Wes. Can you get it for me? I know there are some other guys in school who could help, but I have no idea what they’d charge, and they scare me.”

The thought of her approaching Bryce Jeffries’s minions at school makes my stomach clench with anxiety. “Don’t. Don’t go to them for anything. Ever.” My voice is sharper than I intended. But I’m already doing everything I can to make sure Bryce doesn’t go near her. I sure as shit don’t want her to be the one to approach him.

She stiffens at my warning, wrapping her arms around her waist again, as if hugging herself or holding herself together. “Okay, Wes, I won’t. But can you do this for me?” Her eyes plead with me.

“I can, but won’t you tell me why?”

“No, and I have one more favor to ask.”

“What is it?” I ask warily.

“You can’t tell John. Or my parents.”

“Not even John?” I’m surprised she wants to keep this a secret from him, too.

“No one.” She holds my gaze, her face a combination of fear, anxiety, vulnerability, and determination.

She’s going to get a fake ID whether I help her with it or not. And there’s no way I want her to do this by herself.

“Okay, Anna. But you know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, maybe I can help.”

She smiles sadly. “Thanks, Wes. The ID will help.”

Three days later, her ID is ready.

She hugs me when I give it to her, and I feel her tremble. I don’t know why, and she won’t tell me.

I don’t know if I just helped her or not.

I don’t know if I should tell her parents or John, even though I promised her I wouldn’t.

I don’t know anything other than this sick feeling in my gut.