Chapter 3 3

The kitchen faucet groaned when Karly turned the handle. Brown water sputtered out before running clear. She filled a chipped mug and drank.

In the living room, Ardell was on the phone.

"Yeah, boss. Cough's real bad. Can't come in." Ardell made a fake hacking sound. She winked at Hakeem, who was polishing a pair of Jordans on the sofa.

She wasn't sick. She was going to the casino. Hakeem had given her twenty bucks from his 'savings'-money Karly had earned cleaning houses last month.

Karly set the mug down. She heard a muffled curse and a heavy thud from her father's room down the hall, followed by Ardell screaming at him to be quiet. A knot of ice formed in her stomach. That sound was new.

She walked out the front door, past the rusted swing set, down the gravel road to the gas station on the corner.

She stepped into the phone booth. It smelled of urine and stale tobacco.

She dropped a quarter into the slot. She dialed a number she remembered from a lawsuit deposition ten years in the future.

"Factory Human Resources, anonymous tip line," a recorded voice said. "Please leave your message."

Karly pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and covered the mouthpiece.

"Ardell Lowe. Shift 4. She is currently in possession of stolen copper wire stored in the trunk of her '98 Civic. She is calling in sick today to sell it."

Karly hung up.

She felt nothing. No guilt. No daughterly hesitation. Ardell was a parasite. You didn't negotiate with parasites. You excised them.

When she got back to the trailer, Hakeem was waiting on the porch steps.

"Hey, Karly." He put on his 'good brother' face. The one that used to fool her. "Ma's just stressed, you know? Don't take it personal."

Karly looked at him. She wanted to vomit.

"I know," she lied. "I don't blame her."

"Good." Hakeem smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "About the money... since you won't work at the cannery, I was thinking. There are ways to make cash at that fancy school of yours."

Karly stiffened. "What kind of ways?"

"Rich kids are dumb," Hakeem said. "They need homework done. Papers written. Sometimes... they need someone to take the fall for stuff."

Inside the trailer, a scream shattered the morning.

Something crashed against a wall.

Ardell burst out the screen door, phone clutched in her hand like a weapon.

"They fired me!" she shrieked. "Those bastards fired me over the phone!"

Hakeem jumped up. "What? Why?"

"Said they got a tip! Said they're checking the cameras!" Ardell looked wild. She scanned the neighborhood, eyes darting to the neighbor's house. "It was that bitch next door! She saw me loading the trunk!"

She didn't look at Karly. Why would she? Karly was the furniture. The punching bag.

"We're screwed," Hakeem said, his voice tight. "We need that check."

Ardell spun on Karly. "You hear that? I'm out of work. You have to step up. I don't care about your scholarship."

"I can't work legally," Karly said, backing away, feigning fear. "I'm a minor."

Hakeem stepped in. "I told you, Ma. I got a plan. She can make bank at St. Jude's. Under the table."

Ardell glared at Karly. "Every cent. You bring me every cent, or you sleep outside."

"Okay," Karly whispered, looking at her shoes. "I'll do it."

Ardell stormed back inside to find the vodka.

Hakeem patted Karly's shoulder. His hand felt heavy, possessive.

"I'll look out for you, sis," he said. "Just do what I say."

Karly watched him walk away.

He had no idea. He thought he was building a trap for her.

He was just digging his own grave.