Read Online Radical by E. M. Kokie - Free Book Online

looking around, like he’s watching for an attack. More paranoid than usual.
    “I heard about Willie,” I say. “Sorry.” I knew Willie was messed up, but I didn’t think he was stupid enough to start cooking meth.
    Boyd shrugs. “Bound to happen. Listen.” He clears his throat. “I’m thinking of taking off for a while. Going out to Montana to see my dad, maybe see if he can get me a job.” He looks away from me. “I need to get out of here for a while.” I can imagine things are shitty at home without Willie around to run interference with his mom’s boyfriend. “But I need cash.”
    I like Boyd. And he’s always been good about helping me out and not charging a crazy markup when I need ammo on the sly. But I’m not just giving him money. I’m starting to shake my head when he says, “You still interested in a Bobcat?”
    “You serious?” I ask, already picturing how the subcompact pistol fits in my hand.
    “Willie’s not going to be using his, and I can’t leave it behind.” Not with his younger brothers still at home and his mom a mess. “You always loved to shoot mine, so I thought maybe you’d want it.”
    Dad would kill me, but . . . “How much?”
    We haggle for a while and then arrange a time for him to come by. He’ll get his quick cash, less than he’d get from a proper dealer, but he knows me and can trust me and I won’t be recording the sale anywhere. I’ll get the Bobcat, holster, and whatever he’s not taking of his ammo, mostly .22s, the ones the Bobcat likes best, but some .44 VOR-TX as a bonus, because he’s not going to find many buyers for those. All in all, I got the better deal.
    He’s barely out of the lot, and I’m already nervous, thinking about where I’ll hide the Bobcat and extra ammo, especially the .44s — Dad will know he didn’t buy those. Dad would kill me for real. I almost call Boyd to tell him I’ve changed my mind. But I don’t. I want that Bobcat.
    I go back to the office, but Uncle Skip is shutting down his computer and packing up. He’s already turned off the lights and computer out front. “You ready?” Uncle Skip asks, but he seems weird.
    It’s normal for him to be quiet. Sometime we don’t talk at all in the truck. But today it’s like I can hear him trying not to talk.
    “You know,” he finally says, trying to be all casual, “those guys who are always obsessing over the doomsday scenarios, you know most of them aren’t playing with a full deck, right? It’s fear talking. Paranoia.” He glances at me before turning. “It’s not real.”
    Crap. I must have left the video up.
    “No wonder you’re freaked out all the time,” he says, sighing like I’m not even here.
    “I’m
not
freaked out.” He looks at me. “I’m focused.”
    “Those videos, those men —”
    “Not just men.”
    “People,” he corrects. “All those people, posting those videos . . .” He seems to try to figure out what to say and then gives up. “Nothing is going to happen, Bex.”
    I wonder how many times in history people have said that, right before the shit hit the fan.
    “Something always happens.” I look at him, wanting him to understand. “You can choose to be ready or not.”

There are a million things I could be doing right now that would be more useful — or more entertaining — than sitting at the table, eating some cereal, with a stupid book open randomly next to me. Every other bite, I turn the page. In between, I survey Mom and Dad when they’re not looking. They’re very lovey this morning. I wish they’d stop. And leave. Mark will probably sleep half the day. Uncle Skip went to the station. Just Mom and Dad to go. Then I can get down to business.
    Mom taps the open book. I guess I haven’t turned a page in a while. “I expect you to be further along by the time we get home. Your aunt Lorraine is going to send me the links for the quizzes that go along with the summer reading list.”
    “Can’t wait,” I say.