Jimmy's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? You're gonna try and get it under control?"

"Yeah," said Johnny, nursing his bottle of orange juice, wishing it was a can of beer instead. How pathetic was that? But Robby needed him to have his shit together while he carried out his juvie sentence. Miguel needed him for his physical therapy. He was useless to everyone drunk.

"Good for you, Johnny," said Jimmy.

Bobby nodded. "I sometimes help alcoholics at the church, get them into programs. I'll get you a number."

"Thanks," Johnny mumbled, wondering if he had the willpower to carry through.