Those Girls by Chevy Stevens Read Free Book Online

don’t think our dad would like it.”
    “Well, we don’t have to tell him.”
    I glanced at Dani, my stomach muscles tight.
    “Look all you want,” Dani said, shrugging.
    She walked up the steps, pushed open the door. We came in behind, standing awkward in the kitchen. Courtney ran the tap, poured herself some water. Her gaze flicked to me, then back to the sergeant. She leaned against the counter, acting casual, but her hand on the glass was shaking slightly. I sat down at the table, thinking about the gun under the sink. Dani was behind me. I could feel her heat, the nervous energy in her body.
    The sergeant walked around, checking windows, his boots heavy on the floor. He fingered a broken lock on one of the back windows.
    “You got someone to fix that?”
    “Dad will do it when he gets home.”
    He grunted, walked over to the bathroom, pushed open the door. I held my breath. His head tilted as he studied the fresh paint on the floor.
    “Been painting?”
    “We thought if we fixed things up a little, Walter might knock some money off.”
    He left the bathroom, walked toward us, eyeing Courtney, the burn on her face.
    “What happened there?”
    “Jess burned me with a pan when I was bending over.” She laughed, but it sounded nervous.
    “Looks pretty bad. You go to the doctor?”
    She shook her head.
    He stared at her face. “Usually takes a while for a burn to go that deep.”
    “It was a really hot pan,” I said.
    His gaze flicked to me, lingered for a minute on the bruise on my jaw. I could feel my face flush and knew I looked guilty. I hoped Ingrid had told him about the horse. If he asked me anything, I was sure I’d be a terrible liar.
    He turned away and opened our fridge, his eyebrows lifting when he saw how empty it was. He leaned over, moved a few things around. I thought about the beer Dad had brought home, the leftover can. We’d never taken it out of the fridge. I gripped my hands tight in my lap.
    “Why you looking in there?” Dani said.
    “If you kids aren’t eating properly, might have to get social services to help out.”
    “We’re eating fine.”
    He stood back up, closed the fridge. “How old are you now, Dani?”
    “Almost eighteen.”
    “You’re all minors. None of you should be here alone like this. There are some good foster—”
    “We’re not going back to foster care.”
    “Your dad don’t come home soon, I’m going to have to make some calls.”
    “He’ll be home.”
    He sniffed the air again, the smell of bleach and fresh paint lingering. I waited, holding my breath. Was he going to figure it out?
    “You girls aren’t supposed to be using that gun without a parent around. I could take it away from you.” He was looking at Dani over my head.
    “We’re careful,” she said.
    My heart was beating so hard now I worried he could hear it, or see the panic on my face. Finally he turned and moved toward the door.
    “Keep it locked up until your dad gets home. Don’t want you shooting your foot off or something.”
    “Yes, sir.” Dani exhaled softly behind me.
    At the door he turned. “I’ll send the wife over with some food, should tide you over for a little while.”
    “We don’t need any food,” I said.
    Dani gave me a shove. “That’d be great,” she said. “Just until our dad comes home. Then we’ll pay you back.”
    “Just until your dad comes home.” He held her gaze for a second, then walked to his car. He stared down again at the ground near his foot, scuffed his boot in the dirt. What was he seeing? A drop of blood? A tire track?
    He looked back up at us one more time, then climbed into his car and drove off.
    *   *   *
    We were quiet that night as we ate our soup. Dani had used some of her money from doing odd jobs and bought a case of Mr. Noodles—you could get four packages for a dollar. I liked to make mine just noodles, using the package of spices as flavor, and mixing it with butter. But we were out of butter and Dani said I