First off, I realize it has taken me a long time to update this story and thanks to all my readers that have checked up on me! I promise my next update will be much faster this time. And yes, I have somewhat had writer's block with this story or rather the bridge builders have been on vacation. I am very glad Felicity's Fury is written, and that I am once more on track with this story.
To the people that have asked, don't worry I never plan to orphan or abandon this story for I still have stories to be told for this story. However, as in all things in life, to survive one must evolve and change for things to go forward. Therefore, this chapter and probably some of the next ones will be different than in the past because it is time to tell their stories. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think. Remember I write for reviews.
In addition, a friend suggested that I need trigger warnings about suicide talk and drug usage among other real life things, so read at your own risk because this chapter is going to get real.
Now here goes and as always thanks for the read.
Once upon an Olicity time . . . in a small town far, far away.
#######
Eli Rice, stood beside Phil's bed with his massive arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Clearly, he'd come from the docks since he could smell the shrimp boat on him and the man's anger radiated off him in waves. Oliver forced himself to extend his hand with the words, "Mr. Rice."
Phil's father hesitated and he could tell the man thought hard about refusing his hand shake before he finally slowly extended his hand.
"Coach," said Phil, sitting up in the bed, the grin on his face large. "Glad you stopped by. I'm supposed to get out of here today. Finally! Real clothes and food again."
"Good thing, too. You've missed more than enough school. God knows how you're going to make up the homework now." His father's sunburned face was hard.
"Phil's a smart young man. He'll pick up the homework, won't you Phil?"
"Sure, Coach. No problem."
"Good. Have you been cleared to come back to practice, yet?"
"I think Phil needs to take a few more days off." Eli's body language plainly said he'd dug in, that his mind was made up.
"Whatever Mae thinks is fine with me."
"I'm ready to get back to it, Dad. I'm bored out of my mind. And I need to keep busy."
"Have you given any more thought to going to rehab, Phil?"
Phil started to open his mouth then closed it when his father said, "My boy doesn't need rehab. He'll be fine now that he's clean. Won't you, Phil?"
Eli's words were sharp and didn't invite any disagreement, but he saw Phil bite his lip and how his hands tightened on the blanket as he said, "Yeah, Dad. I'm . . . a lot better now."
"I know you don't want Phil to miss anymore school, but he needs to learn better coping skills and rehab can help him with that."
"He's got a counselor. He can talk to her. We'll be seeing you, Coach Queen." Eli clearly had dismissed him.
"Yeah, thanks, Coach, I'll see you at practice later today."
"Tomorrow will be soon enough. Go home and rest some more."
"I'm tired of resting. I'm ready to get back in the game."
"Awesome, but I'll still see you tomorrow."
"Now if you'll excuse us," Eli said pointedly.
As he turned to leave Oliver hoped Phil would be able to stay sober.
#####OQ#####
Josh Peters' day had sucked. After listening to repeated wrong answers, he'd stupidly blurted out the right answer in Calculus class, gaining his teacher's unwanted attention, who, of course, wanted to know how he'd figured that problem out in his head, no less.
Dumb move since it only made everyone make fun of him in the hallway after class, and he'd gotten slammed into the lockers by a crush of upperclassmen.
Then Stan's girlfriend had thrown chocolate milk on him at lunch.
Stan had been pissed, and he'd gotten into another fist fight with him and both of them managed to end up in the principal's office by 1:30 p.m., and he never even got to eat lunch and breakfast had been an energy drink.
The day'd gone downhill from there.
His Aunt refused to come to school for a meeting, claiming important meetings herself, and she would come if she could, if she had the time. T
Of course, she never had time for him and he was good with that.
But the principal, clearly pissed at him and at his Aunt, made him sit in the office DOING NOTHING and held him late, punished him by making him late for soccer practice.
Coach Queen been clearly pissed when he'd been late dressing out and practice had already started when he'd finally made it to the field.
Sporting a huge bruise on his face, of course, Coach asked if he'd been fighting. And his off handed reply, "Well da," earned him a sharp look, and it hadn't mattered that he said, "Yes, Coach," since he'd already clearly pissed Coach off, and the man'd made everyone run extra.
The threats from the other team members were quick as he realized once again he'd found himself "Mr. Unpopularity" with the other team members.
Jordan, who normally ignored him, had forcefully body slammed him into the lockers after practice, and if Coach hadn't walked in the locker room when he did, he would have been in his second fist fight of the day as the rage in him threatened to overflow.
He'd hurried after practice but to top the day off, he'd been late once again to pick up his brother Will from aftercare, and they'd already called his Aunt when he'd arrived.
Now he knew he was in real trouble as he rode up to his Aunt's townhouse. Unable to help it, he'd began to shake a little as he kicked the skateboard up, and noted his Aunt Janie's SUV in the driveway. Leaning the skateboard against the wall beside the step, he took a large breath and steeled himself, knowing his body already ached and if he wasn't hungry, thirsty and about broke, he'd just ride away.
His Aunt had a thing about locking the door. She had OCD about it. If you came in after six, she'd locked all doors for the night and since it was a little past six now, he knocked. Waiting, he wondered if she would let him in tonight. Funny but he kind of hoped she wouldn't open the door, as he sighed thinking she would at least make him wait before she let him in.
Unexpectedly, the front door opened, and his Aunt reached and grabbed him by the hair and hauled him into the house. Her face strained looked pinched and unhappy, as she slammed the door behind him. Before he knew what happened, she body slammed him several times against the hard door, making him see stars as his head connected solidly with the metal door.
"Seriously! How can you be this stupid? Your grades are in the toliet AGAIN." She stood there in her skirt and flowery blouse, looking very much like a sweet librarian, as she waved a piece of paper under his nose. He tried to focus his eyes as she pulled hard on his hair.
Yeah, he'd learn quickly that looks were deceiving, and his aunt was anything but sweet. Pushing hard against her, he tried to jerk out of her grasp, attempting to get loose to put the couch between him and her, knowing from experience that there was safety in distance.
But, his Aunt was a large woman and strong, and she held on and shook him, rattling his teeth as she slapped him repeatedly, making him cry out.
Unable to stop her, he could do nothing as she threw him bodily across the room, bouncing him off the bar as she moved in for the kill, kicking him repeatedly. Balling up in the floor, he protected his head with his arms, while his ribs, legs and arms took a real beating and his little sister and brother screamed at her to stop.
Fuck me, he thought, knowing she'd gotten his progress report, and he was currently flunking pretty much everything. On top of the rest of his day, he wondered if she was going to beat him to death this time and everything became kind of became surreal. It was as if he'd stepped back and was watching her kick him.
"Young man, what do you have to say for yourself this time?"
He wanted to talk but he couldn't as she stopped kicking, waiting on his answer and when he didn't answer, she kicked him harder, and he thought sure she'd cracked his ribs while the pain ripped through his left side.
His sister screamed and pulled on his aunt's large arm, as she cried out, "Stop it. Stop hitting him right now. I swear if you don't stop, I'LL CALL 911 this time."
But his Aunt just pushed Ruby backward, knocking her down, then she jerked him up and slapped him hard in his already bruised face and his blood flew, as she screamed at him, "Answer me! You're just like your mother. Nothing but a little wimp."
His nose ran blood down into his mouth and he spat the words, "What do you want me to say? I suck at school. I'm almost sixteen, I think I should quit and get my GED and be done with this stupid school. And I HATE YOU!"
"What am I going to do with you? You remind me of HER! Disrespectful, lazy, flighty, worthless." She punctuated her words by gut punching him, and he doubled over, wanting to puke. His ears were roaring as she threw him into a heap on the floor with the words, "I swear if you didn't belong to MY sister I'd give you to foster care, and they could have you. You're useless. Nothing but trouble. I don't know why I waste my time on you. All you do is make me look bad. Why don't you understand that all you have to do is your job. Twice today, I've gotten phone calls because you didn't do your job! Don't you know that people talk?"
She started kicking him again, and he attempted to crawl away but she drug him back with the words, "I can't handle this. And on top of your terrible grades, you've been fighting again. AGAIN. You like fighting in school, Josh, let me show what happens to you when you make me look bad, when you make me talk to your principal."
His sister was crying and pleading now. "Please stop hitting him, Aunt Janie. PLEASE. He didn't mean to get in trouble."
"You shut up or you're next." She pointed at his sister.
Jerking him up, she shook him again and then threw him crashing into the solid wooden coffee table, and he managed to find his feet and holding his left side, he put the kitchen counter between him and her before she killed him.
He had to rally or die.
Grabbing a knife from the block on the counter, he pointed it at her, "Don't you dare touch her. And that's all you care about. Director of the public library can't have a messed up nephew. Call them! Please call them. Maybe they won't beat me up on a regular basis. Do you want me to look up the number, though I'd bet you already have it programmed in your phone. Do it I dare you."
"Put the knife down or I'll have you arrested."
He wiped the blood running out of his nose and slung his blood to the floor. And he wanted to kill her, wanted to make her bleed, but he knew she was strong, powerful in this small town, and he'd pay for it, since he'd tried to take her in the past, and if he stabbed her there'd be no going back.
He'd go to jail.
His life would be OVER, and he'd never have a chance to live, and the two years he had left before his freedom, before he could legally walk away, would turn to twenty to life.
Will, still his mother's baby, heaven help him because he had been too little to remember, hid behind the easy chair in the living room, sobbing loudly and no doubt rocking and sucking his thumb at six, while his crying sister tried to calm him with the words, "Shh, it's going to be alright. I promise. Shh."
Will's cries hurt his heart but he said, "Stop lying to him, Ruby. It's never going to be alright ever again."
Unable to stop his hand, he swept his Aunt's glass whatnots off the counter top and the sound of breaking glass exploded, no echoed, through the room.
"You'll pay for that. And you'll clean that up right now."
"I've already paid with my blood, and you can beat me to death, and I won't clean it up."
Ruby got between them. "Stop it. Both of you. Josh, please think. Put the knife down. Please Aunt Janie, no more. I don't want to call 911 on you but if you hurt him again. I promise I'll call them. And I'll tell. I'll tell them everything."
"You wouldn't dare unless you want a new place to live. Josh, go to your room. I'll deal with you after I teach your sister some manners."
"I'm done and you touch either one of them and I'll turn you in for abuse. I'll burn you at the stake just like the witch you are. And you can kiss that powerful job of yours good bye. Believe me, I'll do it. Hit me again, and I'll go into foster care just to burn you."
"Josh, please," his sister, Ruby, pleaded, "Don't, you know they'll split us up."
"Even split up. You'd be safer and so would Will. I'll be okay, alone. I'm getting better at it all the time."
His Aunt screamed, "You're grounded. Give me your phone. Hand it over. I can't believe what a spoiled brat my bitch sister, Raven, raised. She'd be ashamed of you. You're just like that idiot she married, the one who killed her."
Josh inhaled sharply, his stomach clenching tightly and he threw the knife into the sink before he used it, but he couldn't stop the words, "You bitch. My mother was worth three times what you are. Don't you dirty her name by saying it. I can't stand it. And my father was a genius, he worked for Google. How dare you? I know you're drawing a huge check on each of us. Don't act like you're not. I get that's the only reason we're here, that the government's paying you. But, I still don't know why you just didn't leave us with Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad and draw the check."
"Those queers were not your relatives. I'm your only living true blood relative and the judge awarded you to me. I own you, all of you."
"We're people not property and those queers have been married years. And they're our godparents." He screamed, "Unlike you they wanted us. They loved us, knew us. You were never related to us. I never even got a birthday card from you or a call during one of my birthday parties. You've made it plain that you hated my MOM! You didn't even call during the holidays. You never called. I never heard your name until Mom and Dad died. Where have you been my entire life? Oh, yeah, not there. You never showed up until you found out we were worth a check."
"How dare YOU!"
His Aunt moved quick to be that large. She shoved Ruby to the side and her hand lashed out and slapped his face hard, snapping his head back and busting his lips against his teeth and the sound echoed through the room as he tasted blood and spat on the floor.
Ruby bounced up, trying to get between them again screaming for them to stop.
Shutting his eyes an instant, he embraced the sting, his back rigid. He ached to hit her back, wanted to beat her this time but instead, with his eyes watering, he turned and ran. Managing to undo the lock on the back door, he and escaped, slamming the back door so hard that the windows beside the door rattled forcefully behind him.
"And don't come back. I'm locking you OUT." His Aunt yelled after him. "Sleep on the street."
"It's safer there and it wouldn't be the first time." He threw the words over his shoulder as he rounded the townhouse and grabbed his skateboard up and ran.
Footsteps followed him, pounding the pavement, and he jerked his head around, and saw his sister, Ruby running up behind him, her short blonde hair plastered flat against her head, her breath coming in gasps, as she pulled on his sleeve and spun him around to face her with the words, "Josh, please, give me your phone. I'm sorry but she says I can't come back without it."
"Take it. Here. Now hurry back or she'll beat you up and lock you out too."
"Look, I'm sorry she's mean to you. But if you give her time to cool down it'll be alright. Come back later and I'll let you in after she goes to sleep."
"Great and I can sleep under the bed, so she can't beat me in my sleep. I should be grateful she too big to crawl under the bed and get me. Thanks but no thanks. I'm safer out here on the street."
His sister refused to look at him for a minute, both of them remembering the night his Aunt had beat him with a metal coat hanger. He'd been asleep one second and she'd been beating the hell out of him the next. Yes, both of them knew it wasn't safe for him to sleep in his room at his Aunt's house.
"Josh, please give her a break. Get your grades up. Stop getting in trouble and maybe she'll treat you better. You have to know she doesn't know what to do with us."
"You're wrong. Yes, she does. Open your eyes, Ruby; she hits me more and more. I'm a mass of bruises, and I can't do anything right. Call child protective services. I want you to. Use my phone, and she can blame me. Call 911. Go into foster care. Protect Will." He jerked away from her with the words, "And forget about me."
"No, please don't talk like that. I know you're hurt but don't you dare do something stupid. No more trouble. PLEASE, get yourself together. And stop fighting in school. If you keep it up you're going to end up in jail. They're going to lock your smart ass away."
"You do realize, I'd never even been in a fight until we moved here?"
"I know that, but we have to stay together. Mom and Dad would want us to stay together."
"They gave up any say when they died without a will. Damn Mom and Dad for doing that to us."
"Don't say that."
"It's true. They died on us and didn't make sure we went to their friends instead of mom's sister. They didn't love us enough to look out for us, to make sure she didn't end up with us. They didn't keep us safe."
"That's not true. Don't be an idiot! They didn't want to die. It was a quick business trip, a weekend. They meant to come back, to be back Sunday night and pick us up from Uncle Bill's. They thought they still had lots of time."
"Well, they didn't and they never came back. And maybe I won't come back either. I love you. Tell Will I love him too. Give him my tablet and you can have my laptop."
"Don't you dare talk like that! Use that genius brain of yours to figure out Will and I still need you. You can't give up. Please, just don't screw up again because you're going to end up in jail or in a box."
He pulled away from her. "Maybe, I need to be in jail or somewhere else. Now leave me alone, Ruby. Just go back to the bitch and leave me alone. And promise me, if she touches either of you that you'll call 911."
"Josh! Please! Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to act like this. And neither would Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad."
"Would you get it. Process it. Mom and Dad are dead. They don't care about any of us anymore, and they didn't care about us enough to take care of us if they died or we'd be living somewhere else. And forget about Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad. They aren't coming for us. If they were coming to save us, they'd have been here by now. Now, I just wish you'd stop talking about them. I'm trying to forget them. NOW PROMISE ME you'll call if she hits either of you."
"NO! Listen to me. You need to come home, and we need to remember them, Josh."
"I don't have a home anymore. It's her house, not my home, and I'm done remembering any of them. Leave me alone, Ruby. I can't do this anymore."
And he threw the skateboard down to the pavement and rode swiftly away from her, with his heart aching.
"Josh, come back!" She screamed after him.
But he never looked back as he held himself upright nursing his aching ribs as he fought the urge to cry.
#####OQ#####
Pulling the old fence back, he ignored the 'NO TRESPASSING' and the large 'CONDEMNED' sign. He'd been coming here for months and no one cared.
The old fish cannery was an awesome place to skateboard, a decent place to crash, and the cops hadn't shown up to kick him out or arrest him. The large roof was wavy and gave him a good place to practice his skateboarding and no one'd ever bothered him.
The place was just about perfect.
But then nothing was perfect.
He understood that now.
But, he could skateboard and then sleep in one of the abandon offices, since his Aunt enjoyed beating him up then locking him out. Even if the cannery was scorching hot at night, with no air and no power, he knew he could handle it, since he'd started to sleep here on a semi-regular basis.
Carefully, not wanting to jar himself, he strapped the skateboard to him with his belt, rolled his pants' waistband over so his pants didn't fall down and then slowly climbed the fire escape ladder to the roof.
She'd done a real number on him this time and it almost hurt to breath. Walking across the wavy roof, he carefully stepped to the right, skirting a weak spot, a small hole in the roof that frankly looked dangerous.
Hunkering down, he sat on the ledge of the building, looking down at the alley two stories down and thought about how easy it would be just to push off the edge and end this.
Peeling his t-shirt up, he checked the new damage to his already bruised ribs. The purple bruising on his left side already massive, it looked bad as he took in the yellow, green or purple bruises from the repeated times she'd hit him before. And he thought that damn, he'd have to wear long sleeves and jeans to cover the marks and it was too hot for that.
Exhaling sharply, he lowered the t-shirt knowing looking didn't make him heal any sooner, and he wished for a hydo. Heck, he could take two pain pills right now and it probably wouldn't take the edge off.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out one of the two joints he'd scored earlier this morning. Hunting numb, hunting relief from the pain, he carefully lit the joint, though he had to avoid his split lip as he inhaled deeply. Holding the smoke in as long he could, he exhaled and coughed and had to hold his aching chest. As soon as he could breathe again, he hit the joint hard as his stomach bottomed out.
His mind turned over the idea of how easy it would be to just lean forward and end his pain. He imaged how he would finally no longer disappoint anyone. Just think, he told himself, no more coping with a stupid school or bullies, no more having to pick up and babysit his whiny little brother, Will, or deal with his forever hopeful sister, Ruby, no more soccer practice with his asshole, badass, unforgiving Coach Queen, no more probation and flunking drug tests which meant more probation, and then maybe his Aunt would be happy because he'd be gone, though the thought that his sister or little brother would become her punching bag instead of him, crossed his mind.
Unable to help himself, he judged the distance and did the math. He ran the formula g = -9.81 m/s^2 through his mind, which told him how to multiply the acceleration of gravity by the amount of time it would take to fall. He judged three seconds before he would hit the hard concrete and his mind churned out the answer that no he probably wouldn't die from the fall. The distance was not enough to truly kill him, and the math made him decide that he'd probably just break his legs, or his back, or his neck and he'd end up crippled, maybe in a wheel chair, paralyzed.
"Fuck that," he said out loud, then tasted blood as his busted lip bled again. Damn his lip hurt. Normally, she never hit his face, but since he'd already been in a fight today would anyone truly remember if his lip was busted or not.
He hit the joint and sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Sniffing, he thought about how he couldn't remember his mom and dad's faces anymore and it'd only been about a year. Exhaling, he blew the smoke out in a long puff then coughed again and cradled his ribs.
Strangely, but about a year ago, he'd never hit anyone and no one had ever hit him. He didn't even remember his parents even yelling at each other let alone hitting each other. They'd been the lovey, touchy kind of couple. He remembered their hand holding and how they'd kissed each other goodbye, and how they'd smiled at each other. Somehow, it seemed fitting that they'd died together since he couldn't image one of them without the other one.
His throat felt raw as thought about how he'd never dreamed that he'd miss the private math/science school for the gifted he'd attended because he used to think what a drag it was. Now, he would do anything to go back in time.
At that school, he'd worked at his own pace, and he'd already pasted college trigonometry and had been working his way through college calculus, while writing advanced computer code. No, he hadn't had a clue as to how good his life had been until that day a cop and a social worker arrived at his Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad's house, instead of his parents.
The three of them had been staying with his godparents while his parents flew to LA to do some business. He remembered he'd been in the pool playing with Will and Ruby, just a stupid kid, doing foolish kid stuff when his Uncle Chad had called for them to come in with tears in his eyes.
No, he'd thought, over and over as the cop said in a monotone voice how his father's single engine airplane had malfunctioned, and how the plane had not made the airport but had crashed and blown up on impact.
Yes, in instant not only had he lost both of his parents but his entire world had exploded in a fiery ball of hell with them.
One second he'd been fourteen, wealthy, a little pudgy and not even aware how much he'd loved his school, loved hanging with other geeks, other gifted students, teens like him who didn't fit in regular schools. He'd been on top of the world with a bright girlfriend and already had computer companies looking at him. He'd loved the beach, surfing and his life then the next second his parents were dead, and they'd left no will, and he and his siblings had become instant wards of the state.
His uncles had been more than willing to adopt them, and in those first weeks, the state had even placed them with them but then his damn Aunt Janie had stepped up. The judge had swiftly taken the side of his mother's half-sister, and he'd just as quickly found himself living in a small town where he'd rapidly discovered that NO ONE liked him.
He could have taught the advanced calculus class at this school, but he'd learned speedily that no one liked the smart kid. They'd made fun of him because he was smart. Hell, in the beginning they'd beat him up because he was smart.
And no, he didn't just hurt the curve, he murdered the curve, and he'd learned to dumb it way down or live with black eyes and a bunch of guys and probably girls who wanted to beat him up on a daily basis. But even after he'd learned to keep his brains to himself, his classmates never forgot or forgave that he'd been smart to begin with.
Self-preservation had surfaced, along with his rage and he'd learned how to fight, and he went from being the smart kid, to the kid with none of the right answers who slept through classes. He figured out quickly that his Aunt didn't lock up her prescription pills or her purse and the first time he'd smoked pot, he found something that helped numb his ever present pain.
His days became a haze of getting high and getting by. And it hadn't taken long for his Aunt to start hitting him on a regular basis. The bad thing was that he felt he deserved it. Strangely, he felt better inside for a while after she hit him.
Senselessly, he actually covered for her, lied to keep children's protective services out of their equation. Carefully, he hid the bruises, and he dropped weight like crazy as he turned his lunch money into drugs.
But no one caught on as he refused to dress out in PE and the teacher had just given up and let him sit on the sidelines in his large baggy clothes. He went to soccer practice almost late and dressed out in the bathroom stall, and he left the same way because pulling his shirt off would show the bruises, and if someone did see a bruise, he had a pat answer. "I fell off of my board. It happens."
And he'd shrug, selling the act.
Hell, even he almost believed the lie now.
A little over a year had passed since he'd effortlessly stripped his shirt off and surfed the waves, since he'd kissed a girl because no one here liked him, and he'd always be the outsider. He stood on the fringes and refused to hang with the retards, which left him totally alone.
Lunch became the worst part of the school day. If he had the money and he went to the café, he had no one to sit with. A loner lost among the masses. And the 'NO BULLING' sign on the door meant nothing in the real teenage life, it just meant they were more crafty about how they did it.
He chose most of the time to go through the lunch line and grab something cheap then spend the rest of the time working his board in the parking lot to keep them from picking on him, and it kept the fights at bay. But days like today, he couldn't avoid another fight after Stan's bitch girlfriend had slung chocolate milk on him and once again, he'd been forced to bust Stan's head.
Why Stan hated him and constantly gave him a hard time was a mystery. And Stan wasn't the only one that disliked him. He just pretended not to hear them laugh, not to hear their jokes about his hair, his clothes and his brain.
But he heard and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. His knuckles ached. They were beat up and bruised but at least he could fight back now, so most of the time the bullies left him alone.
And he'd learned early on to eat pain pills and smoke pot to control his pain, but even high, he still remembered to ace the tests, and his teachers passed him on. Unfortunately, every time progress reports came out his Aunt Janie truly beat him up. Damn this school, he couldn't keep her from knowing about his grades, since they put everything on-line and then called and texted when grades came out. Yet, he couldn't make himself pull his grades up either, couldn't force himself to do their stupid busy work.
Once more, he hit the joint then put it out, wrapping the roach in a small piece of paper beside his last joint, before he stuffed it in his pocket for later. Standing, he stepped back from the ledge. Pulling his wallet out, he counted his money.
His bitch Aunt drew over a grand just off of him every month, but she rarely let him have any pocket money. If he was lucky he saw twenty a month, though he had figured out how to steal a few dollars here and there out of her purse. Most of his money came from skipping lunch and starving, though he knew he was getting too thin. He'd tightened his belt again today. But, he had a couple bucks and some change and he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket and wished he had his phone to check the time.
Instead, he looked at the sky and the shadows on the ground and figured the time about seven or eight.
He realized he had a little time to kill before he would have to go and grab something to eat off of the dollar menu, so he could be settled in before curfew. Heaven knew the last place he wanted to spend the night again was juvy, since they'd search him, take his street clothes and someone would see the marks.
The pain from his ribs had subsided somewhat and grabbing his board, he kicked off. He was in the zone, high and flying on his board, using some ramps he'd set up to do some small jumps, which he quickly realized his ribs weren't up for.
Doubling over, he cradled his ribs when he heard the hated name, "Callie!" and jerked his head up to see Stan and Jordan standing on his roof top.
They'd must have just climbed the fire escape, since they still stood by the ladder.
He sighed and thought would this terrible day ever end?
Bracing himself, he popped the board up hard with his foot and into his hands. He wasn't above using a weapon and the fact that there were two of them told him it was about to get real.
His stomach clenched and he narrowed his eyes.
And as normal when it came to fighting, the anger inside him won and he started it.
Yes, he liked to draw first blood.
"Seriously. You come looking for me? Bitch, wasn't one ass whipping today enough for you? Guess I need to teach you a lesson."
"I brought a friend this time, and we thought you might like your smart ass whipped today, Callie."
"Glad to see you both. I'm going to enjoy whipping both of your asses. Hell, I wish you'd brought more than two of you."
He didn't wait, didn't hesitate, even if he was already hurt, he didn't care.
No, he welcomed the pain as he attacked them with his board. Knocking Stan to the ground, he fought hard as Jordan jumped in and the three of them became a mass of arms and legs, and he lost his board as they rolled across the roof pounding each other savagely, like only teens with no thought of the future can do.
Over and over they rolled, grunting and hitting each other.
A loud crack, not unlike thunder, burst the air and the world turned upside down as the roof disappeared beneath their weight.
In a wild rush, free falling, his body solidly crashing through rotten rafters that broke beneath his body's weight and knocked the air forcefully from his lungs, punching him, slamming his body as together they fell through the roof.
United the three of them tumbled, arms and legs everywhere until he slammed in a jumbled heap with a solid slap into darkness, and came to a crashing stop on something hard and unforgiving.
If he could have groaned, he would have, but the fall had knocked the air from his lungs, and he struggled to even grab his breath as the three of them lay gasping in a topsy-turvy heap, with him on bottom being crushed.
A split second later, debris rained down to bury them, and he could do nothing but experience the painful moment as the collapsing roof buried them alive.
Jordan groaned on top of him but then what had to be a major portion of the roof gave way and poured down on them. It seemed like it would never stop, and Jordan's body on top of his became overwhelming, and he realized the debris weighed deep on top of them, and he struggled to breathe at all.
The dust had barely settled as he pushed and managed to shove Jordan somewhat off of him just as the ground beneath him gave way again, with another loud crack below him, he was once again free falling.
Pain tore, ripped swiftly through his right forearm as lumber and rubbish plummeted down and his body was pushed and shoved around like a feather in the breeze as what felt like the entire building rained down on him burying him in debris.
Finally, silence reigned and someone groaned. Managing to open his eyes, he realized the sound came from him as he spit dirt or something like it from his dry mouth. And he wondered how long he'd been out since he could see the dark sky with stars twinkling above him though the gaping hole in what used to be the roof.
He took in the solid walls surrounding them as he tried to move his head. The room seemed small about eight by twelve. No windows and a metal looking door that he remembered from exploring the building that was probably locked up tight since he'd never been in this room, and he'd been in every other one of them that opened.
Yes, it looked like he'd fallen into a storage room of some type.
"Callie! Callie! Damn it, okay, Josh, or Jordan. I hear one of you moaning. Come on one of you, anyone, just someone please, answer me. I'm trapped. I can't move. I'm buried. It's hard to breath. Please, Jordan, Josh, come on, where are you? Talk to me!" Stan's frightened voice was the first thing he heard, along with a small sob.
Josh groaned the words, "Stan, I'm over here. I'm buried too. Are you hurt?"
"Yeah, but thank god, you're alive. I swear it's been hours and no one would answer me. I was afraid both of you were gone. Jordan hasn't said a word. I think he's dead."
"Can you reach your phone?" Josh asked as he tested the weight of debris and it didn't move. "I can move a little bit."
And he managed to drag his body forward a bit out of the rubble.
"Mine's dead. It's at home. And, I think my leg's broken. It hurts really bad. I'm lying on it and seems like it's at a weird angle. We're going to die down here, aren't we? Please, I don't want to die down here. HELP!" Stan began to scream and cry.
"Stan, don't panic. Come on man, calm down. I can move a little, and with time I think I can dig out and go get help. But you need to calm down. I doubt anyone can hear you. So stop yelling, it will only make you weaker quicker and use up more oxygen."
Jordan chose this time to moan softly, somewhere on his left and said weakly, "Awesome idea, guys, because Stan you're hurting my head, and we both know you are prone to panic so chill."
"I'm buried in my own grave. I think I have the right to panic."
"Stan, you always panic. Now, get a grip, I'm having trouble breathing right now too. Do you think one of you could help a guy out of this shit? I'm almost completely buried. Maybe get this beam off my chest for starters."
"Can you move, Jordan?" He wiggled a little and got his left arm moving a bit.
"No, I've got a beam in the middle of my chest and my legs are trapped. Something's wrong with my legs. I'm not going anywhere soon."
"Do you have your phone with you?"
"Yeah, but I can't reach it. Tried that already. My arms are buried too. Man this sucks big time. And I think I'm bleeding too. My legs feel wet."
"Can you move your toes?"
"Maybe, yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure I can feel my feet. Stuff moves when I move my feet."
"Well that means you haven't broken your back."
"Good to know. Okay brains, think our way out of this one."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? You know it's true. You're smarter than the rest of us. The entire school knows it. And it's your fault this happened."
"Me? No way! You're the ones that followed me looking to beat me up. I didn't come looking for you. And it was your extra weight that collapsed the roof in the first place. You're the ones that caused this. If you'd just let it go, left me alone then this wouldn't have happened. You came looking for trouble and you found it. "
"Well, if you'd stop flirting with my girlfriend, we wouldn't have a problem."
He grunted as he managed to push some debris off of him and get his unhurt arm free. "Seriously, Stan, you've been picking fights with me over Megan. She doesn't even like me. She slung chocolate milk on me in the café today and embarrassed me in front of everyone. I'm still sticky. Now I want both of you to try to work one of your hands out."
"My face is buried. It's scary. Seems like I can't get enough air. And I have a head ache from hell."
"Then don't move your head since you can breathe right now. Move too much and you might suffocate." He didn't mention that Stan probably wasn't getting enough oxygen and was probably getting too much carbon dioxide.
Trapped, Stan contaminated his own air supply every time he exhaled, which would quickly lead to carbon dioxide buildup in his blood. He'd learned about that at ten, when he'd started working on his Open Water Diver certification. But he couldn't remember how long Stan had before he would fall unconscious and die. But he knew Stan would eventually die if he didn't get him dug out.
"I can move my hand a little. And she dumped melted ice cream on me just before we started dating."
"I think she thinks it's foreplay," Jordan said dryly.
"No way. So you think she's about to dump you for me? That's not happening. Is your hand anywhere near your face?"
"I don't think so. And yeah, I know she's looking at you."
"I swear she isn't looking at me. Just be still, Stan. I'm making some head way here, and I'll come and dig you out. And right now all I can think about is you moving and smothering to death under the debris."
Stan groaned then said, "Did you have to tell me that?"
"To be so smart, you're past stupid, Callie," said Jordan with a loud groan. "All the girls at school think you're cool with your long blonde hair and your brains and your stupid skateboard tricks. Why do you think none of us guys like you? If you didn't act so uppity, you could have any girl at school. They all want you."
Josh puzzled that as he worked trying to free himself, but he couldn't quite lift the boards off his chest even though he'd freed his upper body and for a while everyone was quiet.
"Callie, are you awake?" Stan finally said.
"No, but Josh is. I don't like that nickname. Stop using it."
"Alright, Josh. Please tell me you're making headway because it's really hard to breathe and it's dark under here. I'm scared, Josh. Please hurry."
"I have my upper body out but I'm still trapped. Jordan, how are you doing?" He reached out for a long board that he could just barely reach.
No answer.
"Maybe he's asleep?" Stan said quietly.
Or unconscious, he thought as he tried for that board again and raked his fingertips across it.
"Jordan?"
"I'm here Stan, just resting. It's okay." Jordan said with a weak voice.
"Well I wish someone would talk."
"Why should I talk? I noted that no one really cares about what I have to say." He lunged and finally caught the board as his chest complained, and he groaned out loud.
"Josh, did you dad really work for Microsoft?" Jordan asked.
"No. Google."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, when you say Google look up X. Well, my dad helped write that program."
"Wow, that's awesome. Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" Jordan asked.
"Why so people could hate me more because my dead dad was smart?"
"Okay, I deserve that. We haven't been very nice to you. But you're different from us."
"Which makes me bad news."
"Maybe. Guess we really never gave you a chance to get to know you. Well right now, I've got some time to kill. I can't sleep and my legs hurt. Talk to me. Help pass the time I have left. We're all the same right now. And I have to talk, it's who I am. I already know everything about Stan since I've known him since I was four, and Stan was afraid of his own shadow."
"So you protected him?" He tried to position the board under the beam trapping him and using it for leverage he groaned as the board moved the beam but then it snapped, dropping the beam back on him with a thud and making him cry out.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"I was not scared of my shadow but I'm scared right now," said Stan. "What if no one finds us before it's too late, till we're bones and rotting?"
"Look, I'm not dying in this tiny room and neither are the rest of you." Josh said the words strongly, and he meant them.
"You can't be sure of that Josh. I'm bleeding to death over here."
"If you were bleeding that bad you'd already be dead." Josh reached for another board but it was too far away.
Stan almost laughed as he said, "Well that's a cheery thought. Come on Jordan. Josh is going to figure this out. We're going to get out of this. Think about Lisa."
"Shut up about her. I haven't seen her in months. Her mom doesn't want me around." And he groaned and gave a tiny whimper.
"Who's Lisa?" He stretched his hand out trying to snag another board that was just out of his reach and his body complained.
"His two-year-old daughter."
"Shut up, Stan."
"You've got a baby?"
"No, she's a toddler. And I haven't seen her in a long time. Her mom's got a new guy, and she asked me to step back, to leave them alone."
"But she's yours. You're her dad. She should know you."
"I'm not a good influence. I've been in a lot of trouble. And I can't afford support."
"Come on, Jordan, you want to talk then tell me what you did to get in trouble?" Again he reached for that board and his chest complained wildly.
"Stupid stuff. Repeatedly."
"If you don't tell. I will."
"You better shut your mouth, Stan. I know what you did too."
"Sure I'll shut up, just as soon as you get up and come over here and make me."
"Don't make me laugh. It hurts to laugh. Okay, I got in trouble for breaking and entering, truancy, disorderly conduct, public drunk, and three times I've resisted arrest."
"Are you serious? And you're only sixteen?"
"Jordan's a runner." Stan said with a small laugh. "Hey don't make me laugh. It's hard enough to breath in this rubble now. I don't have much space."
"Yeah, I noticed you're a runner at soccer practice since you were stupid and attacked Coach, and he's had you running for days."
"Trust me to listen to one of Scott's stupid ideas. We never thought Coach was a bad ass but trust me he was like a fracking ninja. I mean he not just caught the pipe I swung at him, he took it away from me and thumped me with it too. And then Scott ran like a damn coward. But it was you that got everyone an extra mile today."
"Well, Coach, won't put up with no shit. Finally," he said as he managed to pull the longer board toward him. Awkwardly, left handed, he maneuvered the board down his body and then using the board for leverage, he succeeded in pulling his legs out a tiny amount at a time, but it was a slow progress and tiring and against his will, he took a break and must of nodded off.
Startling awake he fought the rubble, and experienced feeling trapped as he came back to himself.
"Jordan, Stan?"
Nothing. "Come on guys talk. Jordan! Stan!"
"I'm still here, Josh. The day is breaking," Jordan said quietly, weakly, "Josh, can you promise me something."
"Okay, what?"
"Tell my little girl that I did love her. That's why I stayed away because I loved her and the other guy was a better daddy than me. Tell her I didn't want to be bad but I played the hand I was dealt."
"Don't talk like that," Josh said as his chest contracted realizing the Jordan was giving up. "I'm almost out now. You can tell her yourself that you love her."
"I don't think so. I'm light headed. My dad bled out you know? He was a dealer, and he got shot in a drive by and bled out. I was there. Watched it. And he told me he was light headed and cold right before he died. And right now, I understand."
"Don't talk like that. I'm going to get us out of here. Jordan, focus. You're still here. Just hold on. I'm almost out. Stan?"
"He hasn't talked in a long time."
Finally, he managed to use his good hand on the long board and thrust it beneath the corner of the beam trapping him and using leverage, he accomplished lifting the heavy beam up enough he could drag himself out of the building's wreckage.
The sun had been up a long time before he was totally free and his arm ached like a raging toothache as he finally sat up. Agonizingly, he slowly pulled his belt out it's loops and using it he stabilized his broken forearm by looping the belt over his head and then using his good arm to put his useless arm into the loop before giving a deep sigh as the throbbing eased as he eyed his surroundings taking in the small room.
"Josh? Josh? Are you there? What's wrong?" Stan cried out.
He didn't want to tell Stan that they were trapped inside what seemed a storage room. "Look, I'm free. Let me check on Jordan. He hasn't said anything in a long time. I'm coming to help you though, just be still a few more minutes."
"Yes, check on him. He's been quiet a long time."
He couldn't help it, first he walked over to the steel door and tried to turn the handle. Just as he'd feared the door was locked tight. Sighing, he turned and managed to find Jordan's dark head sticking up from the wreckage, and he checked the teen's pulse at his neck. "Stan, Jordan's lucky since he'd landed with his face out of the debris but he seems unconscious right now."
"Okay, then please, dig me out, Josh. I can barely breathe under all this."
"I'm coming!"
Stan was buried deep in debris and it took a while to dig him out, especially with a broken right arm and trying to go slow, so he didn't smother Stan. At the end, he dug frantically one handed as the pile collapsed and smothered Stan and the teen gasp uncontrollably until he finally managed to uncover his face before it was too late.
Never in his life had he been happier to see Stan's skinny face and his slight toothy grin.
"Thanks, Josh, I never knew how much I took breathing for granted until I found myself buried alive."
Pulling more debris away from Stan's face, the teen breathed deeply and said, "Wow, that's much better. Look I'm sorry, Josh! I never meant for this to happen."
He had to look away before he said, "Me either. Hold on and I'll dig you out."
Another couple of hours pasted and using his long board for leverage, he'd finally got Stan dug out but his leg had a compound fracture, with white bone sticking out.
Using slats from the building's tongue and groove roof, he told Stan to cut his jeans off his broken leg then instructed him to cut his jeans into strips, with a tiny pocket knife Stan had in his pocket. Working as a team, together he and Stan managed to splint Stan's broken leg.
"Now you need to set my arm."
"I don't know how." Stan frowned.
"Do it just like we splinted your leg. Use the slats like splints and the tie it tightly with the jeans' strips."
Groaning he clinched his teeth, as Stan pulled the jeans tightly around his forearm and stabilized his broken arm.
"Where did you learn this, Josh? I mean I'd have never thought to do this."
"My Dad and my Uncle Chad liked to go camping, backpacking and hiking in Yellowstone, and Dad insisted I learn first aid if I wanted to go with them, though I never thought I'd get to use it. Pull it tight, Stan. I can take it."
But he moaned loudly as Stan pulled.
Then together, Stan dragging himself painfully across the floor, they moved and started digging Jordan out. During the process, Jordan woke up and whimpered repeatedly as they removed debris and uncovered him slowly.
"Can you reach your phone, Jordan?" Josh asked.
"No but it's in my pocket, front right."
Stan said, "I'll get it," and he managed to reach after a couple tries and come up with Jordan's blood covered phone with its screen shattered.
"It doesn't look good. Hope you bought the phone replacement plan."
"I hope I live to need a new phone."
Stan swiped and got nothing, and Josh found that he truly wanted to cry. Jordan phone had been his last hope that they would able to call 911 and help would come.
"Press the on button, Stan." Jordan said weakly.
Stan tried again but still the screen remained dark.
"Fuck me!" Stan said as he flipped the phone over and removed the back cover and then the battery.
"Count to twenty."
"Ten should be enough."
"Please," Stan said, "Surprise me and reboot."
He found that even he gave a small prayer he didn't believe in.
But still Jordan's phone refused to come on, and he cursed as he rose and tried the metal door again, shaking it, to find it still locked tightly. His hands touched the hard dark walls and he picked up a board, and he hit the wall and the board bounced right off. And he hit the wall repeatedly but the wall didn't give and he just was jarring his arm. He wanted to cry because they had to get out of here.
"Josh, come on. The wall's not going to give and you're wasting energy. Please, help me dig him out," said Stan, who added, "I can't move this beam by myself. I need your help."
Wiping his face, he turned. "Okay," and they went back to work digging Jordan out.
But then they found the dark and red blood covering his legs, and Jordan started screaming like they were killing him every time they removed a piece of debris from his legs.
"Wait," he said, "His legs are still bleeding. We have stop. "
"No, we need to get him out." Stan continued to dig.
He stilled Stan's hand.
"NO. See the dark blood? That means it's old but there's fresh red blood too. Jordan you're still bleeding. If we dig you all the way out, we'll have to hold pressure to control your bleeding. The debris is holding pressure on your wounds right now. If we move it then you'll bleed to death pretty quick."
"Can't we put a tourniquet on it?" asked Stan.
"No, a tourniquet stops the blood flow. We would have only a couple of hours before he'd lose his legs because of the loss of circulation. I'm sorry, Jordan, but I don't know how much longer we're going to be here. We can't dig you out anymore."
"Then, STOP." Jordan said forcefully. "It's crushing me but I don't want to lose my legs. Please I don't want to lose my legs. I can take it."
Moving down, he dug until he found the teen's shoe then he peeled his sock down a bit and then he found his other foot and did the same thing.
"Don't worry, Jordan. You're still okay. Your feet still look pink, which means you still have blood flow and your legs aren't in danger. Now, we all need to figure a way out of here." He rocked back on his heels.
"What are we going to do?" Stan said quietly.
Both of them looked up at the fallen roof.
"I don't know give me a second to think."
"I'm glad you're here, Josh," said Jordan in a quiet voice.
"Why?"
"Because, you're the smart one. If it wasn't for you we'd still be buried alive. I'd have never thought to use a board for leverage."
"Yeah, and I would have smothered by now. Thanks, Josh. If I had to be trapped with anyone, I'm glad it's you. Now, come on and figure us a way out of here. I'm counting on you."
"Look, I'm not that smart. I just remember what I see, what I read. It's like my mind takes pictures. Or maybe, I'm like a computer, and I download stuff into my memory. I don't understand how it works. My brain just does it. But, I don't know if I can get us out of here right now."
"Me either, but I know I don't want to die down here and you're my best chance. Give yourself a little time. I know you'll figure us a way out of here," said Stan.
"Yeah, Josh. I'm counting on you. Use that brain of yours and get us out of here. I don't want to die. Do you?" Jordan asked.
"No, and I've decided that I'm not ready to die yet either. Just give me some time to think. Though I'm open to any suggestions. Let's brain storm this."
"Why can't you climb out? I can see the next floor." Stan said.
"It's at least ten foot, and I'm hurt too bad. I can't climb with one arm. And there's nothing but that old file cabinet to climb up on. I'd fall and get hurt worse."
He didn't mention that he had noted he was beginning to think he had internal bleeding himself. His spleen was maybe damaged and leaking blood into his left side of the abdomen under his rib cage because his stomach felt full and had begun to truly hurt, though he didn't know what had caused the damage, the fall or his Aunt kicking the shit out of him. He hoped it was the fall since that gave him more time.
"Start a fire, maybe?" Jordan said quietly, pulling him back from his dark thoughts.
"I think we would all die from smoke inhalation before the fire department got here."
"Are we screwed or what?" Stan said quietly as he leaned back against the rubble, "Well as least I can breathe while I starve to death."
"That will take a while as chunky as you are," Jordan said deadpan.
"Funny. You're a real comedian. That's about as funny as wondering how long it's going take you to finish bleeding to death."
"Josh, how long do you think I have?" Jordan asked quietly.
"Are you cold yet?"
"Yeah, but I think it's just the floor."
"Weak? Woozy?"
"Yeah some."
"That's good because it means you have only lost a pint or two."
"It looks like a lot more," Stan said.
"Blood's like that. But you're a big guy, Jordan, which is in your favor. Most adults have six to eight pints of blood and you don't seem to be bleeding at a fast rate. You've still got lots of time. Just try to rest."
"How do you know this stuff?" Stan asked.
"I have no friends, and I read a lot. But water's going to be our first problem. I'm going to look around, you two rest."
"Sounds like a plan. I'm going to take a nap," said Stan. "Wake me up if I can help. Unlike you, I still have two hands."
And he stood slowly, painfully, as he began to slowly survey the room, thinking there had to be a way out of this because if not Jordan would die first, and then he'd be next.
#####OQ#####
Oliver held starting practice for a few minutes. Lingering in the locker room, he looked at Ned, who held up three empty phone bags and then shrugged.
"I'd call them no call, no shows. Odd it would be these three. I've never noticed them to like each other. Well Stan and Jordan, yeah, they're friends but not with Josh."
"Yeah, well guess there's a first time for everything. But it does seem strange since I know Jordan and Josh were on the verge of fighting yesterday."
He turned and sighed, wondering where the three of them were.
Starting practice, he stretched the rest of the team out but the entire time it seemed like their minds were on something else. And his mind mulled the fact that he still needed a goalie and that for the first time ever, three of his team had simply blown practice off. He was far from happy about it.
Soon, he noted that the rest of the team must have been thinking the same thing since practice seemed off.
He knew it and the rest of his team knew it too. No one appeared able to pass or stop the ball today. Dean ran over top of Scott and he had to break up a fight. Russell kicked the ball and smacked Adrian square in the face and once again he had to stop another scuffle. If was as if everyone had something else on his mind and even he couldn't wait for practice to be over.
Toward the end of practice, he called them together and questioned them about Stan, Jordan and Josh and of course, no one knew anything or would tell him anything. It was infuriating and he couldn't help but feel he'd lost ground with his team.
However, he didn't believe them, and he knew they knew something from the way they looked at the ground and shuffled their feet and that said plainly they were lying to him, so he ran them several extra laps before sending them to the showers.
#####OQ#####
A blonde girl, slim and still growing into her body stood by the fence, clearly waiting for someone, while a much smaller dark headed boy sat on the ground playing in the dirt repeatedly crashing his small truck into the fence. He gauged her to be about thirteen and the boy under six, maybe?
The girl wiped her hands on the front of her pants and extended her hand, "Coach Queen? I'm Ruby Peters."
It clicked.
Thank you, Felicity for all those quizzes since today it paid off, he thought.
"You're Josh's sister?"
She nodded and asked with a hopeful tone. "Did Josh come to practice today? Is he still in the locker room? Maybe just running late? He's always running late."
"No, I'm sorry. He didn't show up for practice. Why?"
And her expression became pained and she twisted her hands.
"He didn't go to school today either and I'm worried about him."
"You should be. Missing soccer practice without a call in is a clear violation of the terms of his probation. I could have him placed back in juvy."
"Please don't. I . . . I think something's wrong."
"Why would you think that? When did you see him last?"
"Yesterday and . . . he was in bad shape." The girl twisted her hands.
"Why? What happened?"
"Well, he was hurt for one thing."
"I saw him at practice, yesterday. He wasn't that hurt. So why would you be concerned? Haven't you called him?"
"He doesn't have his phone. My Aunt took it and he . . ." She bit her bottom lip then blurted out, "He got in a fight at school and then wrecked his skateboard. So he was kind of beaten up."
But her brown eyes refused to meet his, and he wondered what she'd just lied to him about?
"I don't suppose he was fighting with either Stan or Jordan?"
"It was Stan. How'd you know?"
"Because both Stan and Jordan missed practice too. I'm guessing all of them just decided to skip. Friend's? Fighting buddies? Maybe?"
She blushed before she said, "I don't think so, ever since we moved here, my brother doesn't have any friends. He's a real loner. Back at his other school, he used to be the popular kid but not here. But, I'm worried that he's in trouble. Please, Coach Queen, could you help me find my brother? I can feel it. Josh is hurt. Maybe hurt bad. He's been missing at least twenty four hours."
"Has your Aunt reported him missing yet?"
The girl looked at her shoes and shuffled her feet before she shrugged and said, "They had a fight. Trust me; she's not looking for him."
"Maybe I should talk to her?"
"No!" The word held pure panic, and he knew something was wrong with this situation as she looked terrified and asked in a strained voice. "Please could you not mention I spoke to you? My Aunt wouldn't like that I came to you."
"I really think I should talk to your Aunt, especially if you think something's wrong with your brother."
He could tell she was more than plainly uncomfortable, and if he didn't know better, she looked frightened as she added, "Look never mind. I'm probably wrong and just over reacting. I'm sorry I bothered you. Come on, Will."
"Wait, Ruby. Calm down. I didn't say I wouldn't help. How about I text you if I find something out?"
"You promise you won't brother my Aunt?"
Yeah, something was wrong with this picture. He knew fear when he saw it. "No, not for now. Just give me your number."
"Thank you."
Quickly, she gave him her number, while he wondered if Felicity could trace Stan or Jordan's phones, before he said, "Okay, I'll promise I'll take a look around. Do you know any place he hangs out?"
Looking miserable, she shook her head and added, "No, he's like a ghost most of the time. He just disappears into the shadows. Thank you, but I've got to go. My Aunt wants me at the house by six. And I'm probably just borrowing trouble anyway. Maybe Josh has come back already. I'm sorry I bothered you. Never mind."
"No bother, Ruby. I'll let you know if I find him."
Hmmm, Oliver thought, something's going on here and it looked like he was going to have to get to the bottom of it.
Reaching for his phone, he texted Felicity. "3 MIA players. Josh Peters, Stan Markton & Jordan Franks. Get me everything u can find on them & c if u can trace Stan and Jordan's phones & could u run a background on Peters' Aunt. Love U! C u soon!"
#####OQ#####
Well that's it for today. Thanks for the read and as always I look forward to hearing from you.