Endangered Species Endangered Species (Time Served #1) - Onley James
About the Author
“Cy! Cy, wake up. She’s coming. We have to hide,” Nicky begged, his voice quaking, the end of his statement edging on hysteria.
Cy’s eyes popped open, instantly alert. He didn’t question Nicky. There was no time for questions when Phoebe was in one of her moods. This had become their new normal over the last year whenever Cy’s dad, Ray, left them, and Ray had just left them for good, whether Cy knew it or not. Nicky didn’t want to tell. He didn’t want to tell Cy what he saw Phoebe do.
Cy’s brown eyes went wide when he saw the blood splattered all across Nicky’s Star Wars pajamas. It seemed to spur him into action. He snatched Nicky up and bolted for the closet, shutting it behind him. He pushed open the crawl space above, tossing Nicky inside, before pulling himself up with an upper body strength six-year-old Nicky wasn’t sure he’d ever have. But Cyrus was older and a football player. He was huge, barely fitting through the small opening.
Nicky shivered at the blast of cold air that was no match for his flannel pajamas. Cy carefully closed the door to the smelly attic space and pulled Nicky into the tiny crevice in the far corner, wedging them back as far as he could manage, cradling Nicky in his arms.
“Nicky, sweetie,” Phoebe called, her voice sweeter than Ms. Emma’s Coca-Cola cake. “You don’t have to hide. Mama’s not going to hurt you. I know it looks bad, but you just have to trust me. You know how he was. I did us all a favor.”
Nicky’s eyes widened at the closeness of her voice, a scream climbing his throat, but Cy slapped a hand over his mouth hard enough to leave bruises, whispering, “Shh,” against his ear. “She’s downstairs. I promise. Sound plays tricks up here. Remember? Remember?”
Nicky hadn’t remembered, but he did now. He couldn’t think with his heartbeat throbbing in his ears. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, trying to force breaths in and out through his nose. Behind him, he could feel the rapid rise and fall of Cy’s chest, and it made Nicky’s gut sick. If Cy was scared, then Nicky should be terrified. Cy wasn’t scared of anybody, even Phoebe, usually. He just hated her. Nicky thought he probably hated her, too, even though she was his mama.
Phoebe. That’s what she made them call her. Phoebe didn’t want anybody thinking she was old enough to have two kids, especially Cy, on account of him being seventeen. Not that anybody would think Cy and Phoebe were related. Cy was half-black and favored his mother’s darker complexion, not Ray’s fair freckled skin, so it wasn’t like anybody thought Phoebe birthed Cy. Besides, there wasn’t a soul in their podunk town who didn’t know Phoebe Winters-Webster-Whitaker. She’d grown up in Haven Heights. She’d been married and divorced two times over, keeping each husband’s name and adding it to the last. The neighbors all whispered about her, made fun of her. They all talked about how she collected other women’s husbands. Even Nicky knew what that meant.
“Nicky,” she called in a sing-song voice, then cackled in that crazy way that made him shiver. “I didn’t hit him. You know that, right, baby? I just found him. It was Cyrus that done it. He hit Ray in the head and killed him…over some money. Right, baby? If you just tell Sheriff Dooley that, everything will be fine. He’ll believe you, I promise.”
That was a lie. It was all lies. Cy hadn’t killed Ray. Ray didn’t have no money. Phoebe made sure of that. Besides, Nicky had seen everything. He’d come around the corner just as his mama had swung that poker. Ray wasn’t even looking at her. His head made a sound like when he and Hart Hanley had smashed pumpkins with a hammer behind the house. It made Nicky’s insides squirm.
Cy’s arm tightened around Nicky’s small chest, a sound like a soft whine escaping the older boy’s lips as he learned his daddy was dead. The side of Cy’s face rested against Nicky’s cheek, and he could feel his hot tears and the way he shuddered out his breaths. Cy was crying. It made Nicky feel helpless and scared. It gave him a gnawing ache in his belly, like when Phoebe would use her grocery money to get her hair done and Cy would have to sneak food home from the locker room after practice.