if he’s even awake enough to listen. “I didn’t know they’d follow me here.”
“Well,” he says slowly, and I can tell he’s being cautious. It was one thing for Thomas to help me out, but another to take in my messed-up friends. “Obviously, they need help.”
“Yeah, they do.” I think of the bruises on Jack’s face, remember Nessa crying in the shack behind the Dumpster that first night. And Magpie’s cruel smile. “They really do.”
Suzanne comes downstairs and joins us in the kitchen. “Poor thing. She’s filthy. I put her in the tub for a nice, long soak. I just hope she doesn’t fall asleep in there.”
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she joins us at the table, adds a spoonful of sugar to her coffee, and stirs while we watch in numb silence. “So, Hank, we need to call somebody. You know that, right?”
Alarm prickles my scalp. “Like who?”
“Child services.”
“They can’t be sent back to their dad. He was abusing them.”
Thomas’s eyes harden and his big, callused hands flex unconsciously into fists on the table. If he knew the whole story, he’d want to smack more than a few people around. The thought of Thomas in warrior mode is weirdly comforting.
“Would they have to go back home?” I ask. “I mean, if the authorities knew they were here?”
“Not if there’s abuse,” Suzanne says. “They might be placed in a foster home.”
Thomas clenches his jaw and his temple throbs. “That’s not always the best solution either.”
“Not always,” she agrees, and I can tell by the way she covers one of his fists with her hand that she knows at least something about his past. “But it’s better than being on the streets.”
“They can’t go out on the streets again,” I say, thinking of Magpie and all the other potential Magpies out there. “There’s no way.”
Suzanne takes a thoughtful sip of coffee. “There are programs through the hospital to help kids like them. Let me make a few calls.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, wondering how I could ever fully thank them for everything. After draining my coffee cup, I excuse myself and go into the living room to check on Jack.
“You okay, dude?”
Jack opens one slitted eye and groans.
“So sorry about the shoulder, Jack,” I say. “That really sucks.”
“Hank,” he says through teeth tight with pain. He shoots a glance toward the kitchen and then waves me closer so I’ll lean in to listen to his lowered voice. “It’s not just my arm. Need some pills. Just a little Oxy would do it. Or Xanax. Please, Hank?” He holds out a pleading hand, and I can see how badly it’s shaking. “Something, anything,” he murmurs.
“Can’t do it, buddy.” I feel that familiar dark urge to wrap my hands around Magpie’s neck and squeeze, because I’m sure he’s the one who got Jack hooked. It’s possible Jack was even an addict when I first met him, but I didn’t recognize the signs. “I’m sorry.”
The only thing I can do for Jack now is just be with him and be his friend. So I collapse into an overstuffed chair and watch over him as he shivers and twitches and eventually falls asleep. Laying my head back, I close my eyes and start to doze off too. I’m exhausted after my restless night in the woods and everything that happened at Walden after I woke up.
Funny, I went looking for Thoreau and found Jack and Nessa instead. And that’s good, I guess. But I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever see Henry again.
16
Hailey looks smoking hot when she drives over to pick me up for the Battle of the Bands that night. Smudged black lines around her eyes make them smoky and sexy, and she’s wearing this tight black outfit and black leather boots that make her look like a rock star, or maybe Catwoman. Like I said, hot.
“Hailey, you’re gorgeous.” I give her a kiss. Her lips are trembling. So are her earrings, one a red feather, the other black. “You’re going to kick ass tonight.”
She smiles and reaches over to wipe her red lipstick off my mouth. “You too,” she says. But her fingers, shiny with black nail polish, are shaking as they grip the steering wheel. She pulls the keys out of the ignition and holds them out to me with a pleading expression. “Will you drive, Hank? I’m too nervous.”
Automatically I accept the keys, but my blood turns to ice. The last time I drove a car was that day