Finding Mary Jane Read Online Free Page B

so if you want to avoid a lot of trouble, you’ll get the money to Max ASAP.
    Please know I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Last I counted, you owe $5000.
    Don’t do anything stupid.
    -Marla
     
     
    Maybe it’s because I’m so freaking tired, but none of this letter makes any sense. Who is Max? I’ve heard his name several times at the smoke shop, but never actually met him. I read the letter a few more times, trying to figure out why Ben would owe someone money and why that constitutes a breakup from Marla.
    But it is the very last line that doesn’t make any sense at all.
     
    PS- You have until Wednesday.
     
    Chills prickle up my arms, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. That was three days ago.

Chapter 6
     
     
    I call Ben’s phone one more time for good measure, and although I know it will go right to voicemail without even ringing, I can’t shake that small hope in my chest that maybe he’ll pick up. When he doesn’t answer, I listen to the computerized female voice telling me to leave a message after the beep. I know these words by heart now. When the beep comes, I sigh into the phone. “Ben. It’s me. I found Marla’s letter in your room. Where are you? Please come home.”
    I sigh again, listening to the nothingness on the other line. Would he even listen to this? “I love you,” I say, just in case he does listen, and then I hang up.
    Somehow, I manage to sleep for the rest of the night, waking up around ten in the morning to the sound of dogs barking next door.
    I roll over in Ben’s bed, feeling around for my cell phone. It’s at the foot of the bed, under the sheets. I must have had a rough sleep, although I don’t remember any of it. No dreams, nothing. But now that I’m awake, all the dread and anticipation for what might happen to Ben rushes into me full force, causing my fingers to tremble as I look at my phone.
    One new message.
    I almost don’t want to click on it. If it’s from Ben, then everything is fine. If it isn’t from Ben, then everything still sucks. For this brief moment, I’m hanging in limbo and it’s the most relief I’ve felt all week. Taking a deep breath, I click on it.
    It’s from Jill.
     
    Want to go to the mall and buy fake designer sunglasses?
     
    Of course I don’t want to do that, GOD why would I want to do that? Sure, it’s our favorite thing to do when we have some extra cash, but can’t she tell from my lack of calls and messages lately that I just want to be left alone? I type no and stop myself before I hit send. Not wanting to be a total jerk to someone who doesn’t deserve it, I type but thanks though .
    Still dressed in my ratty jeans and a shirt of Ben’s, I slip on my flip flops and go down to the kitchen. The house is empty—duh—I don’t know why I keep expecting someone to be here. I’m not in the mood for breakfast, or lunch considering what time it is, so I just sit on a barstool and alternate staring at the clock on the wall and the marble counter top in front of me.
    The head shop opens at noon.
    I will be there the moment Marla unlocks the doors and flips on the open sign. She has some explaining to do.
    An hour ticks by, one minute hand swish at a time on Mom’s old kitchen clock. It’s a rooster with a clock in the center of it. Dad bought it for her one year on her birthday. She doesn’t even like roosters. Nothing in our house or in our lives had ever had anything to do with roosters, yet he bought her a freaking rooster clock for her birthday. That’s the reason they divorced. Well not that one thing, but several little things like that.
    I’ve spent the last five days worrying sick about Ben, and now as I sit at the kitchen counter, I don’t think about anything. It’s as if the obsessive-worry part of my brain has met its quota for the month and therefore won’t function anymore. That’s fine with me really. I enjoy staring at the patterns in the marble better than thinking about Ben. Wondering