Page 116 of Gifts

“Can’t you do something?”

It’s not hard to hear since they’re in the next office with his door open. I’m not sure what Maggie is begging for. Tom can’t do anything to change her grades.

“You’ve got a few days. Talk to Mrs. Browning, ask her to sit down and go through the review material with you. But this is on you. All you have to do is pass the final to squeak by with a D. It’s your only hope at this point.”

“Please, Mr. Logan,” Maggie begs.

“I’ve tried to talk to you about your choices this semester. There’s nothing more I can do,” Tom explains and I hear him sigh. “Would you like me to set up a time with Mrs. Browning after school tomorrow? I can fit it into my schedule if you’d like.”

Maggie sniffles and agrees, “I guess. Science is so stupid. I’m never going to use it for anything.”

“Unfortunately, the rest of the academic world disagrees with that notion. Meet me back here tomorrow and bring all your material. We’ll review until Mrs. Browning can get here.”

I hear Maggie groan and look up from my desk to see her scurry out of the counseling center. It seems Maggie Stockton has made poor choices all around. There are always students who do, but she’s working hard at screwing things up for herself this year.

When Tom passes by a few minutes later, I call out for him. “Tom?”

He reappears, standing in my doorway. He’s either angry or frustrated—probably a little of both. “Yeah?”

“You’ve had a hard first year. I promise, it’s not normally this bad. Seems like the end of the alphabet is a glutton for punishment, huh?”

He shakes his head and shrugs. “Trial by fire, I guess. It’s fine. The year’s almost over.”

I nod my head to where Maggie just left. “I know she’s been a hard one—the drugs, suspension, and now her grades. I really thought seeing Beth Thorton OD and make such a slow recovery would’ve knocked some sense into her.”

Tom sighs. “You’d think.”

“It’s taxing, I know. But we always have next year, right?” I smile and he gives me a look that says it can’t get worse than this.

“I’m going to get some fresh air and grab a sandwich. You want anything?” he asks.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

I can’t help but feel sorry for him as he leaves. Not a fun first year, that’s for sure.

*****

Raymond Wallace

“You can’t fucking make me do it. You can’t make me do anything,” I sneer.

He laughs at me through the phone. He has the fuckin’ balls to laugh at me. “It was only a week ago, but you must have forgotten the evidence I have linking you to a girl who barely survived a fentanyl overdose. It needs to be done in the next two days and you’ll be the one to do it.”

I look around as I walk down the street. If I keep moving, no one will overhear me. “Look, all I agreed to in the beginning was to make a delivery or two for you. I didn’t sign up for kidnapping. You do what you want—I’m out.”

“Raymond,” he drawls. He sounds like he’s reclining back, watching a game or some shit. “Did you think I chose you randomly? Because I don’t do anything that’s not well thought-out and a part of the big picture. Now, you are going to make this last delivery for me, because if you don’t do as I asked with the Stockton girl, I know where I can find two younger replacements.”

I stop in my tracks, staring ahead but seeing nothing.

“That’s right,” he carries on without missing a beat. “You’re not hard to look into. I know your mother works hard to make sure your sisters don’t follow in your footsteps. Twelve and ten are younger than my client wanted—but your sisters are beautiful girls. I’m sure my client will be pleased, especially if I deliver two beauties instead of one. And I have to say, I think they’ll be easier to get to since your mom’s always at work. They tend to fend for themselves a lot, don’t they?”

I look around, checking my surroundings when I realize he’s been watching my mom and sisters. Fuck! My chest rises with my labored breaths when I growl, “You stay away from my family.”

“You,” he stresses, “deliver Maggie Stockton and I will. She knows you—it should be easy.”

“Motherfucker. You planned this all along, didn’t you?”

The fucker laughs again. “It needs to be done in the next forty-eight hours. I’ll text you the drop off location. You let me know when it’s done and I’ll take it from there.”

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