Raleigh’s eyes fluttered open and he groggily slapped around the top of his nightstand, knocking over his alarm clock and a stack of books, in the search for his shrieking cell phone. He snapped into wakefulness when he saw the caller ID.
“What’s up, man?” Raleigh’s heart thumped in his chest.
“Raleigh.” Dawson’s voice cracked. “I need your help.”
Raleigh scrubbed his face with his palm and picked the crusted remnants of sleep from the corners of his eyes. “What do you need?”
“A tow. The starter shorted on the Roadrunner. I tried calling Uncle Cal, but he’s not at the shop and he’s not picking up at the house.” Dawson sounded shaken, the pitch of his voice rising as he spoke.
“Where you at?” Raleigh asked.
“In the theater parking lot.”
“On my way, man.” Raleigh hung up. He slid into
