Chapter 16
I learned the fine art of running and hiding when I was still just a little kid on the reservation. It’s a skill I’ve held on to in the years since. Practice makes perfect and all that s**t.
A few days after administering that legendary beating to two of Sacajawea Middle School’s most feared and hated students—the Scarecrow and his beta, the walking side of beef—that old skill came in handy once again. Scarecrow’s big brother and his pack of dedicated potheads, elder statesmen of Paradise Valley’s stoner community, caught up to me on my walk home from school.
I was stupid, I should have anticipated it. I should have at least changed my route home to make them work a little harder for it. It had been a few years since I’d had my ass thoroughly kicked for me and I was getting s
