Digging Dr Jones

by Olivia Jackson

“Dr. Jones.” I took a calming breath. “I’ll wire your money back to you, but we aren’t going unless you provide something not piloted by Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Private.”

‘Non timeo. Inveniam viam meam ad vos’—I’m not afraid. I’ll find my way to you.

“Can we find a store and buy club soda?” I said, opening the passenger door. “I want to get some spots out before I wash it.” Andrew gave me a once-over. “Try gasoline.” “Really?” I stared at him with confusion. “It works too?” “Yes.” His smirk deepened. “With a match, you light it on fire.”

In my ribcage, someone released butterflies that were high on cocaine. I was in big trouble.