Page 131 of Finish Line

“What did he say?” Cam snarls.

“Nothing, Cam.”

He growls again.

“Don’t worry, I can handle this. Tell the guys I love them, and I’ll try to call as soon as I can.”

“Hang in there, beautiful. We’ll get you out,” he says.

I go to tell him bye when someone brushes against me. The phone is taken out of my hand and hung up.

“I told you no phone unless you pay the toll.” The guy blows warm, damp air on the back of my neck.

Repressing a shudder, I turn and look him over. He’s a bit taller than me and muscular.

“Let me guess. The toll is either fucking you or giving you a blow job.” I almost laugh.

I don’t have to tip my head up to meet his eyes like I do with my guys. I won’t back down here. That is one thing I learned in my time at group homes. Don’t let them see your fear and don’t back down, or they’ll run all over you.

“You’re a smart one. Since you used my phone, you owe me a blow job.” He pumps his fist in front of his mouth and sticks his tongue against his cheek.

“You got one thing right. I’m smart. So back the fuck off.” Despite not wanting to touch him, I place my hand on his swear-damp shirt—gross—and push him away, creating space.

“Not going to happen. You owe me.” He pushes my arm to the side and chest bumps me back into the wall.

I’m not in the mood for this today. “Oh, I owe you? Okay. Here’s my payment.”

I grab his balls through his khakis, squeeze, and twist them.

“Aaaaah, you fucking bitch!” His hand wraps around my forearm, trying to rip my hand off his unimpressive package.

“That’s right.” I squeeze again, harder, and he falls to his knees.

Tears run down his face. Now, I hold the position of power, standing over his kneeling form.

“Remember this the next time you try to get me to pay one of your tolls.” I twist his balls one more time before letting go.

He swears up a storm about how I’ll be sorry. A couple of assholes live at every group home.

A skinny guy, a year or so younger than me, comes running up behind me. “Did you really stay at Ashland?”

“Yes, for a couple of years.” I leave out the part where I ran away.

“Wow, I’ve heard horror stories about that place. My cousin went there. Maybe you knew him? Franco White.” When I shake my head, he holds out his hand. “I’m Ed White.”

“Shelby.” I shake his hand. “Why aren’t you guys in school?”

“In service day.”

I make an O with my mouth. “Makes sense. So, I met Julia, the head bitch, and I guess that tool is the main guy.”

“Pretty much. His name is Pablo. I guess Julia didn’t show you much of this place.” He smiles.

I shake my head. “No, she didn’t, and I didn’t pay attention to what Mr. June explained when he told me the ins and outs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll answer your questions.” Ed shows me around the place, which is nothing like any of the group homes I’ve been in.

One of the rooms he shows me is the library. We’re allowed to take one book at a time if we want, so I grab a book.

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