Dream Smashers by Angela Carlie

lifts on his forehead and now he
takes a step back. “What? Nah, I don’t wanna fight no girl.” He
trips over the carpet and lands on his backside.
    “Why don’t you get some rest?”
    “I’m just gonna—I’m just gonna close my eyes
for one, for one minute.” He lays his head down on the carpet.
    Good. Now I don’t have to worry about his
creepy hands all over Rainy. She is so going to hear it from me
tomorrow. Just to be sure that no strange transient or tweaker sees
her down there, I close the door to the crawl space and pull the
carpet from under Ace to cover it.
    The shoe strings grow longer and hotter and
push into my chest, burning my insides.
    Rain pricks my face and eyes. If I ride my
bike any faster, which is impossible, I might as well have a
motorcycle. My wet hands grip the handle bars, numb from the cold
air. My skirt is pretty much ruined. Did I mention that I’m going
to kill her?
    I ride past my house. Grams left the porch
light on for me. I hope she’s not waiting up.
    I drop my bike in the front grass of Rainy’s
dark house and walk up to the door. Years ago, the door seemed
huge. Now, it’s not so towering, only scary.
    I reach to ring the bell and stop an inch
away from the button. Life will change forever with one ring. No
more secret hideout, no more skipping classes together, maybe even
no more best friend. What if they ship her away like they did her
brother? What if she hates me forever? I know she will, but it’s
not my fault. I have no other choice.
    I ring the bell. The door opens.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Saturday, October 3 rd
     
    “JC!” A deep voice wakes Jacinda from
oblivion. “Yo. Jacinda.”
    Rays of gray light stab holes in the
curtains. A giant man, like Big Foot, stands at the open door.
Fuck. Jacinda’s head throbs, her stomach rumbles. Pictures shake on
the walls from the music pounding from somewhere—probably from the
next room.
    “There’s an old lady here asking for ya. She
says she’s your mom.” Big Foot disappears and the door slams
shut.
    Ma? Oh, God. Fuck. I don’t even know where I
am—how does she? The room spins. “Oh, shit—” Foam zips from
Jacinda’s throat and out her mouth. She leans over the couch a
little too late. The puke moistens what looks like another accident
that had dried up on the couch. Gross.
    Jacinda crawls off the couch on to the floor.
Garbage and shit coat the ground. The scent of rotting garbage hits
her and up comes another splatter to mess the floor. It’s clear
this time, and burns her nostrils and throat. She gags, dry and
hard.
    The door opens again. Air wooshes onto her
face. Ma, horror stricken, stands in the doorway. Fuck. Ma’s sad
eyes fill with tears. She looks down at her daughter, helpless in a
pile of garbage and bodily waste. Everyone always looks down at
Jacinda. Fuckers.
    “What are you doing here?” Jacinda says
through gags.
    Ma takes a small breath. Wipes the tears from
her cheek and reaches for the Virginia Slims out of her grandma-bag
on her shoulder. “I’m sure no one will mind if I smoke.” She lights
up. Smoke plumes into the air.
    “Can I have one of those?”
    “Of course, dear.” Ma pulls another smoke out
of the box and hands it to Jacinda along with a gold Zippo.
    Jacinda recognizes this lighter. The name
engraved on the side is a dead giveaway. “Pops,” she whispers.
    “Yes, it was.” Ma looks around the dark room.
“I have to talk with you. Clean yourself up, dear.”
    “I can’t go anywhere right now, Ma. If you
haven’t noticed, I’m sick as shit.” The smoke filling Jacinda’s
lungs eases the wood peckers in her head, just taking the edge off.
She needs a drink, something to kill the ever-metallic taste in her
mouth. “How did you find me anyway?”
    Ma clears her throat. “I have my ways. We
need to talk.”
    “I’m thirsty. You got a beer or somethin’?
Get me a beer and we’ll talk.”
    “Fine. Clean yourself up and meet me in the
back yard. I need some