Laura Drake - The Reasons to Stay

She leaned in, her lips quirking. “A different color is not going to fix that problem.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

She chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I like her just the way she is and I’ll bet your customers would say the same.”

He broke eye contact before it could become another stare. “Yes, but she’s just so...out there.”

The twinkle in her eye winked out. The jungle cat was back. “Oh, and conformity tops honesty, efficiency and competence in your book?”

“No. But I can dream, can’t I?”

A shade of a smile crossed her lips. “Dream on, dude.” She lifted her phone, and snapped to attention. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where you off to?”

“I’ve got to go...to work.” She slipped her phone in her purse.

“Great, you found a job. Doing what?”

“Um. Customer service.” In one fluid movement, she was on her feet. “Nice talking to you.”

He stood. “You have a good day.”

She turned and waved to Sin, who came from behind the counter with the keys in her hand. Though he couldn’t hear their words, they talked all the way to the door. Sin unlocked it, let out Priss and let in Susie, his checkout girl.

He grabbed his cup to leave but his gaze followed Priss until she passed the edge of the window.

* * *

“IGNACIO HART. Report to the office.”

The voice on the dorm loudspeaker was soft but Nacho still jumped. He shot a look around to be sure no one saw. Nope. The prisoners were all at breakfast.

They’d told him his half sister would be here to take him today. He’d been shocked, since it was pretty clear that day at the apartment that she didn’t give a shit. Besides, she sure didn’t look like the motherly type. That was okay by him. He’d already had a mother—didn’t need another.

He crammed the last of his T-shirts into his backpack and looked around. The sun hit the floor, crosshatched by the wire in the glass. They said it was there to keep the kids safe.

Yeah, tell me another bedtime story.

Neatly made cots stretched the length of the high-ceilinged room. His was the only rumpled one. Screw ’em. He was so out of here.

He tossed the backpack over his shoulder, his hands fisted so they wouldn’t shake. He couldn’t wait to escape this kid warehouse, with their rules, bad food and the wimps sniffling after lights out. The only good thing about this place was that a bus picked him up so he could keep going to the same school. Not that he cared about learning, but all his homies were there.

He walked to the door, wondering if he was heading from a pile of dog crap into an over-his-head shit pile. His mom was dead, his dad was in prison. They were handing him off to a chick he didn’t even know, just because half her blood was his mom’s. What did that have to do with him?

But the county didn’t care. They were happy to have one less body in the warehouse. No one bothered asking the only guy who might care—and he hated that.

He used to feel empty inside when his mom went to work at night. Now he felt empty all the time. He wished he had a big family, like his friend Joe. They were loud and yelled a lot but you had to care if you yelled, right?

He took a last quick glance around to be sure he hadn’t left anything. The extra weight of the iron cross felt just right in the bottom of the backpack. His teacher talked about how knights in old days had a family coat of arms on their shields when they went into battle. The cross was his. Maybe his mom was full of shit. Maybe all those dead guys back in Spain weren’t royalty. But the weight felt right, just the same.

His stomach rumbled, empty, but full of ice. He practiced a badass superhero scowl.

His shoelaces slapped the floor, but he imagined a pair of Avenger’s boots, thumping down the stairs. He was tough. His skin was leather. Ice was in his veins, not in his stomach. He was—

His sister stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him. She was little for a grown-up—only a couple inches taller than him. Trying to look cool with her spiked hair and hipster pants, but she was scared. He knew scared when he saw it.

Cool—that made them equal.

He slouched down the last couple of stairs.

“Hi, Nacho. I signed you out of here for good. Have you got all your stuff?”

He glared hard and walked past her. No reason to make it easy.

“Hey, wait.” She trotted to catch up, and pushed the door open for him. “It’s not really warm enough yet, but I thought you’d like to ride with the top down.” She waved her arm at a huge beater Caddy parked at the curb. The paint was sunburnt and it looked like the white leather interior was split in places, but his stomach took a happy dive anyway. He’d look cool pulling up to school in a drop-top.

He followed her, scuffing his feet to act like he didn’t want to. The tall brick building loomed at his back, watching to see if he’d get in the car. Whether or not this worked out, there was no way he was going back to that place. He’d run away first.

She patted the door, then swooshed it open like it was a limo. “This is Mona. Mona, this is Nacho.”

He snorted and got in. Crazy ran in his family.

She walked to the driver’s side and got in but she didn’t crank the engine; she just looked at him.

“What?”

“I got us an apartment—a nice one, over Hollister Drugs. You know where that is?”

What, did she think he was an idiot? He nodded.

“I already talked to your school. I’ve got to work so the bus will drop you off about two blocks from the drugstore. I should be home about the time you get there, but if I’m not...”

When she didn’t say more, he had to look at her.

“You’re to wait for me outside, on the sidewalk. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to take you in and introduce you to the landlord and his mother when I get home from work today. They don’t exactly know about you yet, so...” She chewed her lip. “Just wait for me when you get home from school, okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not retarded.”

When she smiled she looked a little like his mom and a little like one of those elf queens in the Lord of the Rings. “Noted. Buckle your seat belt.” After he did, she handed him a bag from the floorboard then cranked the engine. “I figured you didn’t get breakfast.”

He opened it. A McMuffin. Sweet. “Thanks.” He ignored the foil-covered cup of orange juice and dug in.

“What do you think of this town?” She talked loud, over the wind.

“It blows.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Then don’t ask me a question after I take a bite.”

She looked over at him. “So you’re not tied to this place?”

He snorted. “I want to go to a city. Like a real city—like L.A. or something.” They had real gangs there. He could take his pick.

She smiled. “Then you’re going to like living with me. I move around.”

It might be cool, getting to see places. “I can hang with that.”

“Great. Then when you get out of school in June, we’ll hit the road, okay?”

“Cool.” Actually, it was cold but he didn’t care. The wind whipped by, making it feel like they were going a hundred instead of thirty-five. People in other cars stared. He rested his arm on the door and squinted at them. This part might not be too bad.

Ten minutes later, Priss pulled into the circle in front of his school. Cars ahead and behind them dropped off kids. More kids hopped off the buses parked at the curb. Others milled on the sidewalk, yelling, running. A typical day.

He spotted Diego and almost waved like a butt-wipe second grader. He stopped himself in time. But Diego saw him, and elbowed Joe. Nacho took his time gathering his backpack so they could get a good look at his wheels. It was a beater, but it was a drop-top. With raised shocks and some painted flames—