The Raven Four Books 1-3 - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,3
after he's done a bust. He's been doing it for years, stealing a bit here and there then reporting that a less amount was found during a raid. How do I know this? Because I overheard a phone conversation once between him and one of his buddies. He didn't know I was home—I wasn't supposed to be—but I'd decided to ditch after a group of guys and girls jumped me and kicked my ass. I fought back, of course—my dad taught me how to protect myself at a young age—and I even got in a few good swings. But I was completely outnumbered. In the end, I gave someone a black eye and someone else a fat lip, while my face looked like a freakin’ lumpy blueberry.
But anyway, I left school, went home, and hid up in my bedroom. My uncle had come home for lunch and, as I was sneaking around, trying to stay hidden, I noticed him empty some bags out of his pockets, stuffing them into the attic crawlspace. Then he called someone and informed them of what he had managed to bring home that day.
“I got a lot today,” he said then paused. “Yeah, I know. I want you to push it as fast as you can.”
Before my parents died, I’d been raised in a questionable neighborhood and knew enough about the drug world to understand what that meant.
When he left, I snuck up to the crawlspace and jackpot. I didn’t take it all, just enough that he wouldn’t notice. After that, it became a routine. Usually, I’d find only weed in there, but on a couple of occasions, I found some ecstasy and coke.
I’m a little worried about how things are going to work now that we’ve moved and he has a new job. I guess I’ll find out. It’s going to suck if he stops stealing drugs and stashing them in the house. Not that I’m addicted, but getting high often calms me, and I need help with that whenever I can.
“Raven! For the love of God, get down here!” Aunt Beth shouts furiously.
Sighing, I put the joint in my bag then head down the stairs to start what I’m sure is going to be a hellish first day of school.
Two
Raven
I end up crossing paths with my uncle on my way out. He’s in the kitchen, sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and reading a newspaper. He doesn’t look a lot like my dad—shorter and stockier with a bald spot on his head—which I’m grateful for. He’s also dressed in his uniform.
I try to pass by the kitchen without being noticed and hurry toward the front door, but he glances up before I can make a quick exit.
His gaze sweeps across me then he frowns. “You’re really going to go to school dressed like that?”
I bite back a rude remark and shrug. “Yep.”
He eyes me over again, making my skin crawl. “You look like a slut.”
M anger ticks, and I want nothing more than to walk up and clock him in the face. But I fight the urge and turn for the door, preparing to walk out.
“You better not get into trouble today,” he calls out after me. “If you do, you’ll be punished. I mean it, Ravenlee. You’ll learn to obey, even if I have to—”
I rush out the front door and close it behind me, cutting off whatever threat he was about to throw my way.
I might pay for the move later, but right now, all I want to worry about is getting through school, so I keep my head low and climb into the backseat of my aunt’s car.
“God, it took you long enough. You can move so slow sometimes, Ravenlee,” my aunt gripes as she drives down the driveway, heading for the main road.
I shrug and stare out the window, too tired to get into it with her right now.
I really need some coffee. And breakfast. Why did my uncle have to be in the kitchen this morning?
I zone out for most of the ride to school while Dixie May babbles about some reality TV show she’s been watching. Aunt Beth occasionally joins in on the conversation, but Dixie May is usually the one to fill up the silence. The girl could probably break the world record for her ability to talk and talk and talk, especially about reality TV.
As soon as my aunt pulls up to the school, Dixie May’s focus switches.