Page 4 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Nope, nope and nope again."

I'm sick to death of talking about it. There's nothing to say.

Courtney shrugs one shoulder. "I never liked the guy anyway." I glare daggers at her. "That's all I'm saying, I promise. Want me to show you your room?"

"Yes, please."

"It's small – I warned you it was small."

"I know." It's why she's insisting I pay no rent. The room is supposedly too tiny to rent, so she's not losing out. I will have to contribute to the bills though. A problem when I own only three dollars.

The open kitchen-living space has three doors. Courtney points to the first. "Bathroom." Then the second. "Mine." And finally, the third. She turns the door handle and pushes back the door. Halfway. She can't open it any further because the wood hits the small bed behind. I peek my head inside and see the single bed, a tall chest of drawers, and one window. The floor space is non-existent.

"It's perfect," I say with genuine emotion.

Courtney wrinkles up her nose. "You really were desperate to leave Naw Creek, huh?"

"You bet."

She throws her arms around me for a second hug, before marching over to the kitchen as I throw my bag onto my new, titchy bed.

"Tea?" she asks. "Coffee?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Do I have anything stronger?" She rolls her eyes and disappears under the counter, returning a moment later with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a bottle of white wine in another. "What's your poison?"

I don't have a poison. Karl never liked me drinking. I only ever had an occasional bottle of beer at a barbecue or Joe's Bar. However, tonight I'm thinking that might change.

"The tequila."

"Good choice." Courtney disappears, popping up with two glasses and pouring out two large measures. I go to reach for mine and she slaps away my hand. "You can't drink on an empty stomach."

Disappearing for a third time, she reemerges with another bag of chips.

I've been on a strict diet for the last year in order to fit into that stupid dress. Before midday, it had been twelve months since I'd tasted the salty goodness of a potato chip. Now I'm having a hit twice in one day.

"Come," Courtney says, patting the seat of the stool at the breakfast bar. I hop up and she slides me my drink and the bowl. I take a swig of the tequila, the liquor stinging my throat and making me sneeze. Then I dive my hand into the bowl of chips and start munching. "I made you a list of possible jobs."

She swivels around a pad of paper, scribbled notes written across the top page.

"I can't read this," I tell her, twisting the pad around.

"I know you're heart broken and everything, but the city is expensive and–"

"I mean, I can't read your writing. I want to find a job. Pronto."

I don't want to be a burden to Courtney, not when she's the only member of my family actually proving useful in all this mess. I also need money, not simply for the bills, but to fund my new lifestyle of tequila and chips.

"Ahh," she says, "my bad. Let me see." She peers up at me with a somewhat sheepish expression. "Sorry hun, but you don't exactly possess the best qualifications in the world."

True. That wasn't the plan. Leave high school. Save up. Marry childhood sweetheart. Have a baby. Life sorted.

Stupid, stupid plan, considering the resulting circumstances.

"I'm going to fix that. Go to night school or something. I was always good at math, remember? I could do bookkeeping."

Courtney nods, then drops her gaze back to the list.

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