Finding Faith by Tabatha Vargo Read Free Book Online

night working on that damn flower garden, and I’d
spent my last ten bucks on those damn over-scented weeds. I’d never
been more thankful that Wal-Mart stayed open twenty-four hours or
that I could flirt my way into the lawn and garden department after
hours.
    By the time I got back to my house,
I was covered in dirt and exhausted. Everyone was gone and so was
all the beer, which pissed me off pretty good. Instead of sitting
around bitching about it, I went straight to my bathroom, got a
shower, and crashed.
    The next day, I slept way into
noon. I’d decided to skip senior year and go straight to work for
Uncle Lester, my dealer. He didn’t even have any nieces or nephews,
but everyone called him uncle. The best thing about Uncle Lester
was he dressed like a pimp from the seventies and had a porn star
mustache. He worked it, though, and he was the man when it came to
the ladies. He was a strange man, but he always made sure I had a
full supply of wacky dust. It wasn’t honest pay, but it was
pay.
    With a busted head gasket and a
blown tire, I needed whatever work I could get to get my car back
on the road. In my mind, the band was my meal ticket, but if the
worst happened and my band did nothing, I’d end up taking care of
my mom and working some shitty job somewhere. I was born and bred
for struggle.
    I fixed myself a bowl of cereal in
one of mom’s mixing bowls and sat on the couch, deep in thought.
Faith. I couldn’t seem to get her off my mind. I wasn’t sure why
I’d lied for her. Maybe it was because I’d seen her welts, and the
thought of her getting more made me sick to my stomach. Or maybe it
was because her dad seemed to piss me off all the time. It wasn’t
that he was doing anything, but it was his “I’m the pastor so I’m
better than you” mentality. He wasn’t better than me. Actually, I’d
give the ounce of cush and the eight ball in my top drawer to say
he was probably more crooked than I could ever dream of
being.
    I fixed my mom some lunch and made
sure she had her pills. She was having an especially painful day,
which meant she wouldn’t want to be bothered. Instead of sitting
around and babying her to death, I smoked a bowl in the garage and
headed out to get lost around the town.
    It was days like that when I wished
I had an actual job. I’d talked about it with my mom before, but
she swore she needed me home more than she needed help financially.
I understood and even though the thought of having money that I’d
made legally sounded great, I couldn’t take the chance of not being
there for her if she needed me.
    Later that afternoon, the boys came
over and we practiced for the rest of the night. We’d been invited
to play at a new underground club called The Pit and we wanted to
make sure we sounded kickass. It wouldn’t pay to play a shitty
show, and we always had the hope that someone important would see
us and take us out of our fucked-up situations.
    I sang my heart out as Kevin, the
lead guitarist, crushed my garage with his rips. I’d known him
since the first day of middle school. He was the first friend I’d
had for more than a few months. That was one of the worst things
about being in the system and getting moved around so much. I never
made any lasting friendships. I’d spent my life being passed by
strangers and it was nice to have some loyalty in my
life.
    Reynolds, who could play the hell
out of a pair of drums, was hitting the beats hard. He hated to
practice, but he always showed up on time and played his heart out
even if he was all geeked out half the time. We all had our vices,
but I think he was developing a serious problem. His sudden
appearance of nosebleeds made it hard to look away from his cocaine
addiction. I was no saint. I sold the stuff and on occasion I’d
down a line, but nothing as extreme as Reynolds.
    Then there was the newbie, Tony.
I’d given him the name Tiny, mainly because for a kid his age, he
was fucking huge. The kid could play some