CHAPTER FOUR
 “The hell wrong with you, Sam? Never mind — trick question. But how you gonna blow up my boy’s spot like that? X ain’t been to school all week on account of you snitchin’.” Hot air and noisy spittle crackled the line as Dougie fumed on the other end of the phone. I dropped a folded pair of jeans in my bag and glared at the phone by the nightstand. I had Dougie on speaker while finishing the last-minute packing I should’ve done last night.  Angie insisted that I wouldn’t...