Mysteries & Detective Stories
The smell in the garage is lousy. Old bulbs coated with years of dust and cobwebs don't cast the best light either. But when I pick up my guitar and my fingers find the strings, and that first riff comes screaming out of the amp, the only thing that matters is sound.
I'm starting to feel dizzy again—and scared. I need to sit down. I make my way slowly to the table and collapse into the moulded plastic chair. On the table is something I hadn't noticed before: a white envelope. With my name on it.
Un gars est arrivé derrière moi, m'a pressé quelque chose de dur dans le dos et m'a offert un autre choix : lui donner mon sac à dos, sinon...
Tracie crumples and falls to the ground. My dad twists around to look at her. He bellows. He lunges at the man again.
Blam!
Blam!
A second person falls to the ground.
Only my dad is left standing.
