I opened my front door at two-thirty in the morning and watched two of my stepfather's best friends drag him from their car. After allowing him to flop on the sandstone driveway, the tall heavyset one looked at me.

     "Hope? Here's your old man. His ass is grass, and the cops are coming by soon to be the lawnmower."

     I know exactly what he means. Stepdad's car is gone, which means he took it to work, went out drinking afterward, and tried to drive back drunk. They took his license away after his second DUI … and in Florida, all three-time DUI's go to jail, which means big trouble for me.

     His short friend climbed back in the passenger's side and rolled down the window. "Hope, you better clean him up and get both your asses out of town. Not only did he get caught driving drunk, but he got away and smashed a police cruiser doing it.

     "Yeah," the tall one said, walking around to the driver's side. "Get him the hell out, because as soon as they trace the license plate and find out it's an expired tag, it's all over but the crying. He's going to jail, and with no mother, I guess we know what's going to happen to your young ass." He climbed in and they sped off.

     I watched my moaning stepfather attempt to pull himself to his knees.

     What a disgusting piece of slim he is. I never liked him. He drank even before my mother died two years ago, but never this bad. I suppose he truly loved her, because he freaked out getting his first DUI three days after the funeral.

     I walked up to him, pulled him to his feet, and managed to slip one of his arms around my shoulder. We hobbled into the house where I kicked the door shut and helped him up the stairs.

     All the while he muttered about my mother leaving him.

     I don't know what my mother ever saw in him. When dad died seven years ago from that brain thing, that was the beginning of her downfall. She went to pieces for six months and I had to live in a foster home. I hated it and swore I'd never go back. Now, it looks like my stepfather was headed for jail for a few years-and where did that leave me? No! Not this time!

     I kicked the bathroom door open and dragged him inside. After stripping him down to his boxers, I forced him in the shower and turned on the cold water full blast.

     "Come on, Otis. Wake up. We've got to get out of here."

     He cupped his hand above his squinting eyes and stared up at me. "What? Oh, my sweet Hope. You still up? You've got school tomorrow, sweetie."

     I aimed the shower head to spray him in the face.

     "Schools cancelled, thanks to you. You sure know how to mess up my life."

     He flailed his arms and turned aside. "Damn that's cold!"

     They'll shove me in a foster home and I'll have to change schools. But I can't! Hickory High School is one of the best public academic schools in the state. It's my ticket out. In less than two years my math and science skills will win me a full scholarship to a major university and then bye, bye, Otis Roach. As for my social life-I have none and don't want any. No! Nothing will interfere with my goal of getting out from under my stepfather.

     "I'm wasting my time thinking about it." I said to no one in particular, my stomach grating against the rest of my insides. "I've got to get you sober and we've got to get out, but where? You wrecked the car." I looked down and watched Otis slump against the corner of the shower and close his eyes. The spray danced off his hairy chest.

     I bent down and shook him by the shoulders. "Don't you go to sleep." I slapped his face several times. "Wake up. Wake up!"

     Seeing him not responding forced a lump to catch in my throat and a tear to spill from my eye. I slammed my back against the bathroom wall and let my head hit hard. "Otis, you really messed up this time. If we don't get out, my life is over. It's over!"

     I shook loose a thought. "Luther Mannis! Luther said he wanted to see me out of here in the worst way. He seemed genuinely concerned. He'd been about the only person I could call a friend." I jerked upright and spun toward a snoring Otis. "We've got to go over to Luther's house. That could buy us some time. But there's something I've got to do first."

     I shut off the water and threw a towel in Otis' face. He stirred and yanked it off. "Get dressed, Otis. I'll meet you in your bedroom."

     Dashing out the door, I sprinted down the hall to my room. My laptop had been on and I clicked to get on the Internet. I started writing an email to Otis's sister in Colorado. Just as I completed it, I heard a loud crash.

     I sprang up, rushed out the door, down the hall, and charged into Otis's room. He lay on the floor where the bureau had fallen on him. Righting it for him, I looked down to see him naked.

     "Oh, Otis! Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

     I rushed for his closet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of pants. Then I hurried back to the bureau and yanked out socks and underwear. Dumping it all on his privates, I ran from the room and scurried down the hall to mine. Sitting at my computer again, I started writing a P.S. line to strengthen my plea to Aunt Dora.

     I had written her before but she totally ignored me. But this was different. She may never have shown she cared, but I couldn't imagine Aunt Dora wanting to see Otis in jail and me in foster care.

     Signing off on the message, my hand hovered over the enter key.

     "Don't send that. You know it's a total waste of time."

     I spun around in my swivel chair and stared up at the girl who said it. Clothed in nothing but a long dress clinging too close to her body, it looked like she had found an extra-long pillow case and cut off the closed end. Her long black hair flowed to her bare shoulders accenting her bright blue eyes and pale white skin. She stood around five feet, weighed approximately 110 pounds, and appeared to be about my age.

     She's exactly my age … right down to the month, day, hour, and second … because that girl is me!

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