A Chance Encounter
Chapter 1
I walked in the door after a long day of school to the sound of the television blaring and laughter in the other room. My little sister Meghan was waiting right inside the door for me and she launched herself into my arms as soon as I closed the door. "I missed you, Abby!" She squealed.
"I missed you too, Meg! How was school today?" I tried to sound equally enthusiastic, but I fell below Meghan's level by a long shot. My sister Meghan was in first grade and I was a junior in high school.
"It was good! We learned about the letter 'b'! Can I show you my workbook?" Meghan was so excited she was jumping up and down. It made me happy to know that she was just as interested in learning as I was.
"Sure, why don't you go get it and we can sit at the table and look at it together?" Meghan was off towards the stairs like a rabbit at my suggestion, and I made my way towards the kitchen to grab a snack while I waited.
Before I could open the refrigerator, I was interrupted by the sound of my father's voice from the other room. "Girl, get in here. We need to talk." I sighed, knowing what was coming, and made my way into the other room. My parents were seated on the couch watching some stupid reality TV show, and they looked over at me when I came in the room. The TV was turned up so loud, I wondered if the neighbors could hear it.
"Yeah?" I looked at my parents with my eyebrows raised. We had passed the point of common courtesy about five years ago.
"Why couldn't you pick your sister up from school today?" My mother asked without taking her eyes off the TV.
"I had some stuff to do after school." I replied. I had been working on homework because it was so hard for me to get it done when I was at home.
My mom rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well it's too much of a hassle for me to pick her up so make sure it doesn't happen again." I had called my mom earlier in the day to say I couldn't pick Meghan up from school, and I knew I would be hearing about it later. I took it upon myself to look after my little sister because I knew my parents wouldn't do it, and I usually walked to her elementary school after my school day to pick her up.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize your schedule was so full." I said sarcastically. My mother did nothing but sit on the couch and watch TV all day, every day. My father worked the morning shift at a convenience store, but he always complained he was too tired to do anything when he got home. The only thing he was good at was ordering me around.
In response to my sarcasm, my father stood up from the couch. "You don't talk to your mother that way, girl. Just do as you're told and shut up about it." He walked towards me, threatening me to challenge him, but I stepped back in retreat.
"Fine. Did you need something else?" I asked, hoping he would say no.
"Yeah, we got another delivery for you." He passed me a paper bag that was sitting on the coffee table. "The address is in the bag. Don't forget to count the money; if it's not all there this time, I'm takin' it outta your hide." I sighed, grabbing the bag from him and looking inside. I looked at the address and realized it was really far away from where we lived.
"This is clear across town!" I argued.
"You better get on that bike of yours and get going then! I expect you back here in time for dinner." My father sneered. I rolled my eyes and went back towards the kitchen so I could tell Meghan I had to leave for a little while. She knew to never come in the room to interrupt us if my parents and I were talking. My general rule for Meghan was that she was never to go near my parents unless she had no other choice.
Meghan was waiting patiently at the table when I walked up. Her face fell when she saw the bag in my hands. She had learned the routine in our house, so she knew I had to leave her. "I'm sorry, Meg. I'll be back in time to make dinner, and then you can show me after we eat."
She nodded and stood up from the table. I gave her a hug, and she followed me out the back door to the garage. "Why don't you play basketball while I'm gone?" I suggested. My parents were watching the TV, so there was nothing for Meghan to do.
"Okay, Abby." Meghan agreed. She grabbed the basketball off the ground and started bouncing away. I grabbed my bike from the garage and took one last look at her, wishing I could stay, and then I pedaled away.
I thought about my unique situation while I pedaled towards the address written on the card inside the bag. My parents had been drug dealers for as long as I could remember, and I had been their delivery girl for about four years now. I frequently wished I had never been involved in their drug scheme, but there was nothing I could do to avoid it. My parents threatened they would throw Meghan and I out on the street if I refused to deliver for them, so I had to do it. I was too busy with schoolwork and taking care of Meghan to get a real part-time job to support her and I, so we were stuck living with my parents until the day came that we could run away. I hoped that once that day came I would have the courage to leave my parents. I was terrified of my father, even though I tried to hide it when I was around him, and I hated to think of what would happen if he knew I was planning to run away with my sister.
When this had all started, I remember asking my parents why they couldn't deliver the drugs themselves, and they had said it was because I was less conspicuous. Police didn't normally look for drugs on 16 year old girls, so I was the perfect person for the job.
At first it had been really hard on me, delivering the drugs to people I didn't know, but eventually I was forced to get the hang of it. I always made sure I was in a public place with plenty of people around to witness in case things got ugly, and my parents always had someone watching me to make sure the deal went down like it was supposed to. At first, I hadn't known they had someone watching me, and one time I made the mistake of bailing out on a deal without getting the money from the person I was selling to. I had paid dearly for that mistake when I got home that night. That was the first time my father ever hit me, and from then on I was a lot more careful. I pedaled faster, knowing I was getting close to my destination. My father had said I was to be back at the house in time for dinner, and I knew what would happen if I was late.
When I arrived at the address written on the card, I realized I was at the entrance to a night club. The club was closed since it was still day time, so I assumed there must be apartments nearby. I walked around the entrance aimlessly until I heard a voice. "Hey, kid! Right over here." I turned around and saw a man with platinum blonde hair beckoning me towards a door to the side of the club. I walked over to him, feeling uncertain about walking into a secluded area. He closed the door when I entered, and I saw we were in a separate living area. There was a door on top of a flight of stairs, and also one underneath a staircase. I assumed this man lived in the bottom apartment because the door was open. I could hear music blaring from inside the apartment and wondered what it was with drug dealers and loud music.
"My name's Sugar." He held his hand out, and I shook it, trying to ignore the stupid nickname.
"Do you have the money?" I asked, choosing not to share my name with him. Sugar laughed.
"Let me see the product first." I opened the bag to show him, but still kept it in my hands. He nodded and pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket. I started counting, knowing exactly how much money he needed to pay me before I handed over the drugs. My stomach dropped when I realized it was $200 short.
"This isn't enough. I can't give you this unless you give me 200 dollars." I looked at Sugar and he shook his head.
"No, this ain't worth that much. This is what you get, take it or leave it." He waited for my response.
"Fine." I threw his money on the ground, and walked away with the drugs. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back before I got too far.
"You little bitch! You take that money and give me the product, or things get ugly." I hesitated, not knowing what to do, and I heard the door on top of the stairs open. A tall man wearing a suit and sunglasses stepped out and made his way down the stairs. As I gaped at the man, not sure if he knew what was going on, Sugar took the opportunity to snatch the bag out of my hands.
"What the hell!" I yelled. Sugar shrugged his shoulders.
"Fair is fair, sweetheart." He laughed and shut his apartment door before I could reply. I debated knocking on the door to ask for the money, but I was unarmed, and he probably would have a weapon if he had to open the door again. I frantically started picking up the bills that were littered on the ground from when I had dropped them. I stopped when I realized the man from the upstairs apartment was staring at me.
"Is there a problem?" He asked.
I shook my head, annoyed that he couldn't mind his own business. "Nope, doesn't look like it." I answered shortly as I scooped up the remaining bills.
"Aren't you a little young to be doing this?" He pointed towards the wad of bills in my hand, and I could tell he knew what I was up to.
"I'm old enough." I responded, trying not to meet his eyes. He looked like he was going to say something else, but I ran off before I could hear it.
As I neared the house, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. I didn't have the amount of money I was supposed to have, and my father would surely notice it. I hated to think about what would happen, and I just hoped he wouldn't do whatever it was with my sister in the room. I parked my bike back in its usual spot in the garage, and when I opened the gate that led to the backyard, my father was sitting on a lawn chair smoking a cigarette. He looked up when he heard the gate, and I fought the urge to run away at the sight of him. "Where's my money?" He asked when I was close enough.
"Here." I replied, handing him the wad of bills I had collected. I tried to step around him so I could go inside the house, but he put a hand on my arm to stop me.
"Not so fast." He said as he counted the bills. I cringed, waiting for his reaction. He looked at me questioningly after he finished counting, and his grip on my arm tightened.
"Can you count?" He asked, talking slowly like I was handicapped.
"Yes, I can; let me explain." I said, trying to force my arm out of his grip. I tried to keep my voice calm, but I was panicking.
"Sure, go ahead. I'd love to hear what happened this time." My father said sarcastically. He took his hand off my arm, but grabbed my shoulders instead and pushed me against the house. Knowing there was no escape, I rattled off my excuse.
"I counted the money like you said, and it was short. I told the guy I wouldn't give him the drugs unless he paid up, and then some guy came out of the apartment next door. The buyer grabbed the bag out of my hand and disappeared, so I just took the money he gave me. I know it's short, but I couldn't hang around to collect the rest of the money because it would have been suspicious." I looked up at my father, and he didn't look any less angry.
"How the hell did he grab the bag out of your hands? I bet you weren't paying attention again. How many times do I have to tell you to use your head?" He slapped me upside the head and waited for my response.
"I'm sorry, I just got nervous when I saw the neighbor." I said lamely.
My father shook my shoulders and slapped me once more for good measure, and then he walked towards the house. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Abby! Don't expect me to be this understanding next time."
He slammed the door, and I stood outside, trying to collect myself a little before I went back in. When I felt calm enough to face my little sister, I went back in the house. She was waiting for me right by the door. I put on a smile when I saw her because I didn't want her to think anything was wrong. "Ready to eat dinner, Megs?" I asked.
"Yes! Can we have ice cream?" She asked with puppy dog eyes.
"No, we'll have spaghetti, but we can have ice cream after dinner. How does that sound?" I grabbed the pot and started filling it with water for the pasta.
"Okay, I guess." Meghan answered. While I cooked, she bombarded me with millions of questions, and I did my best to answer them. I was preoccupied thinking about the man who had interrupted the deal today though. I couldn't stop thinking about how he had automatically known what was happening. He almost acted like he had seen it before and it had really creeped me out. At least I'll never see him again, I thought to myself as I set the plates on the table.
