The Nowhere Kids CH. 1

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" my brother bites out suddenly, breaking the post-breakfast quiet. I sneak a glance at him, but Mick's eyes are locked on our dad whose eyes flicker away from me to him and then down at the table uncomfortably. I turn back to the plate I've been scrubbing while Mick continues to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
Michael clenches his jaw, ignoring my brother, and stands to leave. His chair makes a low groan as he gets up from the table, and I turn my head a little to see Mick glaring at him, hands fisted, as he leaves the kitchen. He slides his glare over to me before his eyes soften a little, and I question him with a confused scrunch of my eyebrows. What's going on? He shakes his head. Nothing.
I give him an unimpressed look that says bullshit, but he's already getting up from the table, and then he's gone too.
I sigh loudly and rinse off the dish before putting it in the rack with a little more force than necessary and then drying my hands on my shorts.

I go to the room I share with Mick so I can finish getting ready for school, and I put on some skinny jeans, a loose black tank top, and a grey sweater to throw on top.
I hear a knock in the hallway on dad's door while I finish throwing my books in my bookbag. I listen to hear it open, but it doesn't. A moment later, Mick swears, and then our room flies open. He roughly grabs at his bag and slings it on his shoulder.
In the doorway, he stops and looks at me. "I'll wait in the living room," he mutters.
"Mick-"
"Not now," he interrupts quietly. I purse my lips in a frown but nod. I hate being interrupted, and I hate not knowing what's going on, but he said 'not now' which might mean 'in a little bit,' so I won't push right this second. He walks away from me and I pick up my bag, surveying the room to make sure I didn't forget anything. An obnoxious shade of yellow peeks out from behind the closet door, and I quickly crouch down to get The Boy Lion Named Lulu off the floor.
"Crap, I need you. Kenzie's going to pout all night if I go solo," I murmured half to myself and half to Lulu. I put my old stuffed animal in my bag and turned to walk out. Then I turned right back around muttering "ugh, socks!"
I quickly snatched two that almost matched out of my sock drawer and slid them on my feet in a hurry, bouncing along the hall to the living room. Mick was waiting by the door when I got there with my socks firmly in place.
"I'm ready," I announce while throwing him a look that also said 'I'm waiting.'
"Alright, get your shoes on and let's go." He opens the door and lets me go out first, as usual. When I'm walking past him, he grabs my arm gently. "I'll be right back," he whispers. He stays inside and lets the door shut, so I wait.

A couple minutes pass by before I get bored and watch the ants on the ground for entertainment. One of the ants stops to inspect a piece of blue gum near my feet when I hear a sudden increase in volume. That's Mick's voice yelling, but I can't make out the words.
I stare at the door for a minute, wanting to hear, but somewhat hesitant to get close for some reason. My father's voice says something I can't hear, and I finally make a decision to put my ear against the door.
"You can't lie to me; I saw you! I've been seeing you, and you're fucking sick. Get some help, but not from her," Mick bites out scathingly.
"You don't know what you're talking about," is all dad says in response.
"Sure I don't," my brother huffs out with a frustrated half-chuckle. He lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm turning 18 soon. I'm taking her away when I do."
"You can leave now if you want, I don't give a damn. She stays," comes the rebuttal.
"Over my goddamn body. I'm not leaving her with you, and if you so much as-"
"Step. Back," dad growls out. His tone holds a promise of consequence if Mick doesn't. Five seconds tick by, and I have the presence of mind to scurry away from the door as it flies open. Mick looks at me in surprise and then understanding as he realizes I was listening. Behind him, I see Michael looking like an animal trapped between fight and flight when he sees me. Before I can say anything, Mick grabs my wrist and pulls me away roughly, the door swinging shut behind us.

The questions I was going to ask wither away on my tongue while I try to process what I heard. Mick doesn't let go of me, but slides his hand down my wrist to twine his fingers with mine, squeezing reassuringly. Our pace slows a little, and my brother sighs.
"So... I guess you heard."
I tilt my head from one side to the other, thinking over their argument, but still not quite making sense of it. "Not really. I heard some of the end, but I don't really understand," I answered.
"Okay," he responded shortly. I watch him as we walk, waiting to see if he'll say more, and I'm a little ticked off when he doesn't.
"Okay?" I snark, stopping and pulling my hand from his. "That's all you're going to say? Okay? You could try explaining what that was all about. What is he doing that you're so mad about?" I demand.
Mick turns around, and I can see his upper lip poke out a little as he slides his tongue across his teeth in his usual habit of frustration, considering how to address this. "I have to go somewhere after school, so I'll be getting home late. You should go to Tabby's house after you finish babysitting and just spend the night there, unless you want me to come get you on my way home."
"WHY?" I yell, sick of waiting for him to explain.
My brother gives me a hard look before he slides his tongue again, looking for the right words to finish this. "I don't want you alone with him."

That stumps me a little. "Why not?" I ask in a much smaller voice than before.
"He's..." he pauses, struggling to explain. "He's not safe anymore. I don't want you alone with him...." he repeats.
I furrow my eyebrows, feeling dots connecting, but still not seeing the picture they make. You're not making any sense....
"Okay? Just... be cautious. For me. Please," he implores.
"Okay," I nod. "Okay. I'll be careful," but this conversation isn't over.
The school day passes by in a blur with the only bright spot being art class with Tabby. She's been my best friend since we were five, when she punched a boy in the face for picking on me because I don't have a mom. Kids are assholes, and she's kind of an asshole too, but at least she's on my side, and I love her. Tabby standing victoriously with her hands on her hips as the boy ran away crying is one of my favorite memories.

"Babe. Hey. Where'd you go?" Tabby waves her hand in front of my face, dragging me out of my head. "Did you hear the assignment? You haven't even looked over at the clay yet."
"Clay?" I parrot dumbly. Tabby gives me a highly unimpressed look and gestures impatiently at the counter in the back of the class where Mr. Binns is watching the students get up to grab their packs of clay. "Oh," I nod and get up to grab the clay, still trying to shake off my thoughts. Tabby follows, watching me warily.
"What's going on? Did you not get enough sleep last night?" comes her whisper as we look for the clay packs labeled with our names.
"I slept okay, I-"
"I certainly hope so!" Mr. Binns booms. "What kind of sculpture do you expect to make if you're asleep? Maybe something squished and gnarly looking. Could be artistic in it's own way, I suppose. A physical manifestation of the crushed spirits of our youth or some such thing," he finishes mostly to himself.
I squint at him, clutching my clay pack to my chest. "I'm fine, I've just got a lot on my mind."
"Sculpt it," was his simple reply, accompanied by a self-amused smirk.
"Sculpt what? My mind?"
"Or whatever's on your mind. It's your clay." His face softens out of its smirk and into a legitimately kind smile, and his dark, deep-set eyes crinkle a little.
"Yeah, okay... maybe." I walk away with Tabby, trying to figure out how I'm going to insert Mad-Rad-Brother and Danger-Dad into a sculpture. Why isn't he safe? Mick saw dad doing something that he thinks puts me in danger. Drugs? Is Michael a drug addict like mom? What help was he talking about?

Some time passes, and I've gotten started on my project when I remember Mick's request. "Oh, hey. Tabby, can I spend the night after I finish babysitting? Can your mom get me from the Kinlaws' house?"
"Benny. Baby." Tabby's voice is pitying. "Did you forget? My family's going out of town this weekend. We're leaving after school. Where's your head at? You're usually not this forgetful."
The memory comes back kind of sluggishly. Oh, yeah. "My bad. Sorry I'm so out of it." Okay, so I'll just hang out with Kenzie and her parents until Mick can get me.
"Yeah, no kidding. What's going on with you?" Her big hazel eyes are filled with concern, and I feel grateful for her. She and Mick are my rock and anchor, holding me down and keeping me steady. She doesn't stop staring, waiting for me to give her something.
"Something's wrong with my dad, and Mick is... worried- about me."
"Obviously about you. Mickie doesn't give a shit about him," she snips while viciously attacking her clay. "What does Michael have to do with you though?"
"Yeah, exactly. I don't know, but Mick says Michael isn't safe anymore, whatever that means."

Tabby's head lifts up. "He's not safe...?" she repeats, her hands slowing as she fidgets with the clay, trying to puzzle through what I just said.
"Yep, apparently. They were having an argument about it this morning.... I think it might be drugs, I'm not sure."
"Did you hear what they were saying?" She's fully engaged now, leaning forward, clay clutched tight in her hands.
"Some of it.... Not a lot. Mick told Michael to get some help, but 'not from me,' except I'm not sure how I'm relevant to our dad's drug problem... unless he's trying to get me to help by being a drug mule or something."
"Maybe it's not drugs," Tabby muses. "Maybe he's got a problem, like child porn or something. Has he been sniffing your panties?" She asks with a cheeky grin.
"Ew! NO! Tabs, it's not funny!" I try to scold her, despite a small smile creeping on my lips. She's so ridiculous, I can't even be mad at her.
"Humor is subjective," she quips sweetly, looking pleased with herself.

An hour later, I'm in the lunch room eating with Tabby on my right side when my least favorite person in the entire school decides to plop himself on my left.
"You've been avoiding me," Jackson sing-songs at me while slinging an arm around my shoulders. "I'm a little hurt."
"Just a little? I'll have to work on that," I mutter.
Tabby is leaning forward to glare at him. "It'd be a good idea