Ground Zero (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Three

Ground Zero

Chapter Three

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The walk back home wasn't so much a walk, but rather a run and because of said run, I found myself leaned up against the thick trunk of a tree, trying but failing to catch my breath, like usual. It was the most fucking irritating feeling in the world, not being able to breathe properly like everyone else you know, but yet, inhales of aerosol from a plastic inhaler fixed that.

When my heart rate wasn't so haywire and my lungs didn't feel like a Boa Constrictor was wrapped tightly around my chest, I started for the tree line of the woods with Mimzy trotting along in the lead. We broke through the lining of trees and crossed the deserted road. Mimzy led the way up towards the house we called home, but I paused in my steps when I took notice of an unfamiliar black Sedan with an antenna parked in the driveway, next to Landon's shiny black Range Rover, and the car just screamed undercover cop car.

Dickson. It had to be.

Of course, just who I wanted to deal with today. Not.

I sighed, internally debating about turning tail and venturing back into the woods, and make my way back to Colton and Caleb's place, and take up Eli's offer to hangout for awhile, and deal with the scorn of the parental unit later for being way, way longer than half an hour, but a head of long dark hair, lurking by the passenger side of the undercover cop car caught my attention. I led Mimzy closer in the direction of the driveway and now upon a closer look—it was Harriet.

''What are you doing?'' I asked, coming to a stop at the rear end of the car and Mimzy sat down in front of my feet with her tongue lolling out from her mouth.

Harriet startled and snapped her head up at the sound of my voice, but her startling merely lasted a moment before she glowered in my direction. ''None of your business, and you're late coming home. Landon was just about to go out and look for you, but Detective Douche-fuck showed up.''

''Douche-fuck, now is that Italian or French?'' I asked. Her eyes shot up towards the sky and her expression was one of done. Just done. I went to say something else, but a glint of metal that came from her right hand caught my attention.

''You're like, not even funny--''

''What's in your hand?'' I interrupted with a frown.

She narrowed brownie colored eyes, but didn't respond and from the looks of it, she didn't plan too. I stalked around to the passenger side of the black Sedan and pulled up short near Harriet when I took notice of crude scratches that marred the black paint of the car door.

I cursed under my breath and leveled my gaze with my foster sister. ''Harriet, you didn't...''

Her eyes sparked with anger. ''He called me a little girl!''

''Fuck, Harriet, the guy's a Detective, you can't just--" I stopped myself from chewing her out because it would do no good.

Harriet didn't take to being yelled at all very well, and I knew that. It had to do with the fact that her biological mother had been verbally abusive and loud, and Harriet had to endure that for eight years until she was put into Mia and Landon's care.

They had both expected this shy, timid and scared little child, but had gotten the complete opposite. She was a force to be reckoned with and honestly, I admired Harriet for her strength, whether it be her shield of protection or not; the young girl in front of me knew how to hold her own and didn't take shit from anyone, but sometimes, like right at this very moment, her temper got the best of her.