“Was he involved with drugs?” My heart sinks into my chest, more like the pit of my stomach. How do you explain to a child, no matter what age, that someone close to them got themselves in a tough spot and you want to shield them from the possibility of seeing them in a new light.
I look back at him. “Who told you it had something to do with drugs?”
He shrugs, “Call it a hunch. The teachers were talking and someone who was talking with my teacher said that it had something to do with drugs. I knew they were talking about Marcus. One didn’t have anything positive to say.”
My blood starts to boil. How can a teacher speak in front of students as if no one was listening? “What do you mean by anything positive?” I am ready to go to a school and give them a word or two.
He shrinks down, afraid to tell me. “Finn, what do you mean the teacher didn’t have anything positive to say?”
“You’re just going to make a scene.” He quickly responds. I mean he wasn’t wrong.
“Tell me.” I command him. It’s bad enough that the poor kid suffers through our own family trauma and drama. He didn’t need to be surrounded by negativity at his school.
His innocent eyes didn’t want to look me in the eyes. I bump into him. “Come on kiddo, throw me a bone here. I can’t help if I don’t know what has been said. Don’t hide anything from me.”
He starts playing with his smoothie straw.
Taking a minute to form his words. “Fine.” he sidetracks, “Worse than Aunt Lilly.” He huffs out, “The teacher said it was only a matter of time before trouble was going to blow back through. She said that we shouldn’t be surprised if more were to come our way.”
Now my blood is really boiling.
Judgmental.
Motherfucking. Bitch.
“Lottie, your inside voice came out.” Finn held back a laugh, then couldn’t contain it. He bursts out, he can’t contain himself. “I’m going to get you a sword and a shield. You look like you were ready to bust.”
I stick my tongue at him, little brat.
He leans into me, the smallest of embraces.
What did I do to deserve a soul to love me?
“Lottie, you don’t need to worry about me.”
“And I do.”
“You should be worried about next week.” The devious smile on his face. I whip my glasses off my face.
“Finnick Cole!”
“Yes.” The damn smirk on his face.
“What did you do?” I ask. He jumps off, skipping a couple of steps. The kid is up to something.
“Remember you said I could haze the new volunteer?” He starts to say, as I get off the table to get closer to him. He is definitely cooking something.
I take another step closer, “Finn, what did I tell you?”
“Not to make a big mess, or put someone in the hospital.” He mimics me. It was a minor injury but certainly scared off a volunteer. Got my ass chewed out for that one.
We walk along the path heading back into the city streets. People passing us by, most in a rush. Traffic building up on the main street. Finn stays quiet, but as we turn the corner to one of our favorite corner stores, he stops and tilts his head. It’s not fear, rather curiosity. I tried to see down the alley what he is seeing, but sometimes kids see something that adults overlook.
I look at him, “What’s up Finn? What are you staring at?”
The curl of lips, something of mischief, “Grumpy” I scan the curb sides, seeing cars in and out of the way.
There near the corner store sits a grumpy ass man and another guy. In a truck, watching intensely. My eye twitches. Maybe he won’t see us, maybe we can just skate by. Before I can tell Finn to ignore him, he crosses the street and starts to skip on the other sidewalk. If Keola didn’t see him before, he won’t miss him now.
