Dying for Rain (The Rain Trilog - BB Easton Page 0,24

croaking and crickets chirping echoes in the atrium up ahead, and the filthy, cracked floor tiles clatter under my boots. I can’t believe I considered this place home just a few days ago. I was so blinded by my fear of the outside world that I couldn’t see it for what it was.

A disgusting, disintegrating hellhole.

I creep down the darkened hallway and pull the gun out from my waistband, wishing it were a flashlight instead. I peek my head into the tuxedo rental shop where Quint and Lamar have been living ever since the accident, but no one’s home.

They’re probably in the food court, finishing dinner.

I consider waiting for them here to avoid a conflict with Q, but that thought lasts half a second before my feet turn and carry me straight toward the cafeteria.

Wes could be executed as soon as tomorrow. Time is a luxury I don’t have.

The sounds of laughing, shouting, accordion-playing, and obnoxious singing get louder and louder as I make my way through the atrium, past the crumbling fountain—with its murky water and random swamp plants—and around the broken escalators. I remember when the idea of seeing Q used to scare me to the point that I wouldn’t leave the tuxedo shop, but that feels like a lifetime ago. Back when my only goal was to avoid my own pain.

Well, there’s no avoiding it now. It’s here. It’s in my face and in my house and on my TV and buried in my backyard.

Q can’t hurt me worse than this.

Just before I walk through the food court doors, I shove the gun back into my waistband and cover it with Carter’s hoodie. I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to get my friends and get the hell out of Pritchard Park. Forever.

The burn barrel in the center of the cavernous room is still smoking from tonight’s dinner, but nobody is manning it. Everyone is at their designated spots—Q and the runaways are at the back table, living it up like they’re at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, and the Jones brothers are sitting by themselves at a table off to the right, picking at their almost empty plates in silence. It’s weird to see the Renshaws’ table empty, but I refuse to think about them right now.

Or ever again.

I glance at Q as I tiptoe across the room. Her head is thrown back in laughter. A cloud of pot smoke swirls above her head. She doesn’t see me … yet.

But Brangelina does. Brad and Not Brad elbow each other and jerk their prominent chins at me as I tear my eyes away and focus on what I came here to get.

Quint’s face lights up as I approach their table. Where there was once a shard of glass four inches long sticking out of the side of his neck, he now sports a single bandage. The beige color stands out against his dark skin.

Lamar turns his head but doesn’t give me the same warm welcome as his brother. He glares at me like I’m just one more mother figure who abandoned them, his fifteen-year-old authority problem stronger than ever.

“What are you doing here?” Quint asks, wincing as he tries to turn his neck to look in Q’s direction.

“I’ll tell you in the truck,” I whisper, crouching down next to their table. “C’mon. Let’s go before the queen decides to—”

“Ho. Lee. Shit,” a raspy voice announces from the back of the room. “Look what the fuck the cat dragged in, y’all.”

I sigh and stand up. Turning to face Q, I hold my head up but keep my posture loose, like Wes did as he faced the judge today.

Q stands and steps onto her chair before walking across the table and leaping down to the floor with the smug swagger of an untouchable kingpin. Her baggy black men’s T-shirt and dress pants, cut off at the knee, hang from her curves like high fashion as she tosses her faded green dreadlocks over her shoulder and levels me with an amused stare.

“I knew as soon as I saw Surfer Boy on TV today that yo’ ass would come crawlin’ back to Mama Q, and here you is. Couldn’t even make it a day on ya own, huh, princess?” Q stalks toward me like a jungle cat, but I hold my ground.

“I’m not here to stay. I just came back to get my friends.”

“You mean, you came back to snatch my scouts.” Her tone turns venomous as she moves