Page 2 of Riot

“Then you work for me.”

I frown. “What?”

“I can put a roof over your head until you graduate.”

“Why would you do that?”

He stares down at me. “I’ve been there. Stuck in the system. Trust me, it ain’t no place you wanna be.”

“What about Lace? She’s thirteen.”

“She needs to get through this first.”

My dad gambled away all our money, which is why our house isn’t worth a nickel. It’s rundown, old and barely standing. My mom did her best and always kept it clean, but you can only do so much with warped material, a leaky roof, and no heating.

My sister doesn’t seem coherent anymore, but she’s still breathing. “Will she be okay?”

He flicks his eyes to her. “I don’t know, son, but we gotta ask the Almighty for help.”

I open my mouth and close it again. Then, “Like, God?”

He gives me a look. “You’ve never been to church?”

“Mom took us at Christmas and Easter, but Dad didn’t like that.”

He grunts. “Figures. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, kid. You got a raw deal with Langdon as a father; not that you could call him that.”

I close my eyes and do as Charles suggested; ask the Almighty for help. It feels weird; it’s not like I’ve ever really spoken to God or asked him for anything. But I’ll do and say what I have to if it means there’s a chance for Lace.

A cold sweat comes over me. “Will she be okay?” I don’t know if I already asked him that or why I trust this man I barely know.

“Just keep holdin’ on. Don’t let go.”

None of it feels real.

I didn’t know what kind of influence that one sentence would have on me from that day on.

Just keep holdin’ on. Don’t let go.

I don’t know if it was that; my sister’s fighting spirit, or if we got lucky with the doctors in emergency, but Lace survived.

Officially, we were orphans, and since all our relatives lived out of state, we’re destined to be a ward of the state and under the jurisdiction of the courts. Charles applied to foster us, and I was relieved when it was granted. I don’t know why he wanted to help us so much at that point in time, but later I’d come to understand.

When Lace was out of the hospital, we took the little we had to Charles’ home; a much larger farmhouse than ours, with heating and a bedroom each for me and my sister. The one stipulation the old man had was that we both finish school. Ihad to get good grades, and then I could help him on the farm, or find work somewhere else. Kids like us didn’t go to college.

I stared at the old, dirty floors. This house and everything left in it felt empty, just like the heart inside me that still beats but can’t feel a thing.

Nobody came to clean up the blood. The outline of my father’s body was still right there on the linoleum floor. I didn’t let my sister inside. I told her I’d get all of her things. The day me and Charles went back was traumatic, but it had to be done…

“Jesus,” Charles says. “Shouldn’t have to revisit this.”

I stare at the floor, unable to look away. I don’t know how long we stand there for, but Charles' hand squeezes my shoulder. “You want a match?”

I turn to look up at him and frown. “A match?”

“To burn this motherfuckin’ shithole down.”

It’s the first time, aside from that night, that I’ve heard him swear. He never does around Lace, for which I am grateful, not that she hasn’t heard all the terrible things our father called our mother.

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