Page 52 of Cruel Legacy

“There were so many people talking about your meal card being declined and since we’ve never really talked about your aunt and uncle… Look, it wouldn’t matter to me if any of it was true. You’re right. It’s nobody’s business. I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

I digest what she’s saying. She heard people talking and without a second thought, she went out and brought me food just in case it was true. Sasha would totally do the same thing, but she’d have called me to get the entire story while she was shopping.

I look down at her bags. “Any good snack foods in there?”

She smiles. “Only the best.”

I grab a couple of bags and walk through the door. “Okay, let’s go upstairs and see what you got.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You went through all this trouble, so the least I can do is make you dinner.”

* * *

I’ve been waiting for a package. It’s three days after the expected delivery date and I finally got ahold of customer service, who says it shows as return to sender.

By the time I tracked down the postal service, they confirmed they have my package, and when I asked why it was there, the customer service agent said all my mail is being returned to the post office as undeliverable with no forwarding address, and if I don’t collect it by close of business today, it’s going back. They’re welcome to keep or trash the junk mail, but I need this package for a school project.

I make my way down to the student parking lot and head over to the spot where my car is parked. Where my car issupposedto be parked, only to find an empty spot.

I knew it. Iknewthis town wasn’t perfect. I look around at all the flashy vehicles. Whoever stole my car did so because it’s an older model. Easier to take. Less anti-theft measures. If I were just boosting for parts, I would’ve taken it too.

I hurry over to the campus police station, which is a ten-minute walk from campus, to file a theft report. The front desk is empty. I ring the bell waiting for service and after five minutes, someone comes strolling out the back.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like to file a theft report.”

“And what was stolen?” He asks, flicking his gaze over me. The look on his face says he can’t possibly imagine that I’d have anything worth stealing.

“My car.”

“Your car?”

“That’s right. It’s a 2006 Pontiac Solstice. Silver convertible with a black Ragtop.” He’s still looking at me like I’m here as some sort of joke, so I spout off the license plate number and the VIN. It’s not until I pull out the copy of the insurance card that I have in my wallet that the expression on his face changes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to call my aunt’s insurance company and file a claim to make sure I have all my bases covered. Hopefully, you’ll have the police report number ready to go by the time I’m connected to an agent.”

He starts typing something into his computer and asks, “What’s your name?”

“Theona LaReaux.”

“And your student ID number?”

I recite it and pull up the screen shot I have of my parking permit number in case he needs that for his report, too.

“Silver Pontiac Solstice, you said?”

“Yup.” I’m connected with an agent who asks who she’s speaking with. “Hi, Charlene. This is Thea LaReaux.” Then I spout off my date of birth and last four of my social security number as requested.

Just as I’m about to tell Charlene the nature of my call, the cop says, “It’s not stolen. It’s been towed.”

“I’m sorry, Charlene. One second.” I put the phone on mute. “What do you mean, towed?”

“The system showed it was towed at ten twenty-five this morning during a security verification. The officer on the scene ran the plates and permit pass through the school and the DMV. The driver’s license you put on your permit application is suspended.” He looks back up at me. “You’ll have to prove you have a current license and pay the impound fee in cash to get it released.”

“Charlene? Yes, I’ll call back.”

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