Her eyes widened with glee. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

As we began to walk away, I glanced in the direction of Jackson’s corner and noticed he was gone. I wondered what books he’d taken with him that night.

Then I wondered why I wondered.

We walked the streets of Chester, Judy talking about how the planning for the Peach Festival was coming along, and I was listening closely until my eye caught a crowd of teenagers, laughing and throwing items at something. A few had a garbage bin in their hands and dumped it upside down on the thing. The closer I drew, the more nervous I became.

They weren’t throwing trash at something—they were hitting someone.

“Hey!” I shouted, hurrying over. “Stop that!” I ordered. The second the kids turned around and saw me, they took off running in different directions. As I neared the individual covered in trash, I became concerned.

“Mr. Emery, are you okay…?” I asked, bending down to help him up.

He was completely plastered, and the smell of whiskey and urine was strong. He’d wet his pants. Oh no…

“Is he okay?” Judy asked, her voice shaky.

“Mr. Emery, let me help you up,” I said as he batted his hand at me.

“Leave me alone!” he barked.

“But, here. I can help you get home, and—”

“I said piss off, b-b-bitch!” he hollered, slurring his words. I didn’t take offense to them, though. I doubted he even knew who I was at the moment. His eyes were hardly opened. He was so far gone.

“Grace, maybe we should just let him be…” Judy whispered, her voice shaky with nerves.

“I’m not going to leave him here,” I told her.

“I can go get Sheriff Camps,” she offered, making me hastily turn to face her.

“Judy, no. No cops. I can handle this.” The last thing Jackson needed was the stress of bailing his father out of jail.

“But Grace…” my sister started.

“Really, Judy. It’s fine. You can go home.” She looked at me with concerned eyes, but I gave her a comforting smile. “Seriously, I got this.”

“No. I’m helping you,” she said, not allowing me to take on Mike Emery alone.

I went back to looking at Jackson’s father, covered in trash. He kept telling us to leave, but I ignored him. There was no way I was leaving his side, and there was no way Judy would leave mine. I didn’t need more kids to gather around and abuse him, or even worse, the cops to pick him up and take him in.

I did the only thing I could think to do: I helped Mr. Emery up from the trash, and Judy helped too. We started to walk him home even though he pushed against us. “Go away, you fucking ugly bitches,” he growled, and for a moment, I considered it, but then Dad’s words crossed my mind.

If you turn your back on one, then you turn your back on all…

Halfway though, he simply gave up and let us drag him home.

“I don’t n-need you,” he muttered, drool rolling out of the side of his mouth as he slurred his words. I reached into his pocket and pulled out his set of keys to unlock his door, and we brought him inside.

The house was a mess. There were empty beer cans scattered throughout the space, and old food sat on dirty dishes stacked high in the sink. I kept pulling Mr. Emery through the house until we reached the bathroom.

“We need to put him in the shower,” I told Judy, and she was quick to help me without any questions.

“You’ll hate me for this,” I muttered. “But then again, you already hate me, so it can’t get any worse.” He sat down and scrunched over, mumbling to himself. I reached into his front pocket and grabbed his phone before I turned on the cold water. He reacted instantly to the feeling.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted but was still unable to stand.

I couldn’t let him sit in his own urine and the filth from the garbage bins. “You’re okay,” I told him.

“I don’t need y-your help. Fuck you, whore,” he kept repeating, but his shoulders slumped over as he shut his eyes and allowed the water to run over him. I turned the water to a warmer temperature before grabbing his cell phone and dialing Jackson’s number.

The moment it began to ring, Jackson was quick to answer.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Hey, Jackson? It’s actually Grace…”

His voice grew alert. “What’s going on? Is my dad okay?”

“He’s, um, he’s okay. He’s just a bit wasted. I found him in town almost passed out, and a few kids were messing with him. I brought him back to his house. I just thought you should know.”

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be over there soon. You don’t gotta stay with him.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait with him. I’ll probably need your help getting him into clean clothes."