The Last Flight by Julie Clark

didn’t make or sell drugs. They were teachers or bank tellers. They were someone’s nanny or mother. She remembered the moment when she handed over the drugs and pocketed her first two hundred dollars, how awkward it was. She had no finesse, the entire transaction silent and stilted. She remembered walking away and thinking, It’s done. I’m a drug dealer. And feeling like the person she was only just starting to become had died.
    But she’d gotten over it. Embraced what her life had become. A part of her was set free—all those years of conforming to the expectations of others. She’d been told that life was a single track, carrying you forward. If you worked hard, good things happened. But she’d always known it was more like a pinball, careening and racing. The thrill was in the unexpected. In the freedom to create her own destiny. Her life had turned to shit, and yet she’d made something out of it. That was fucking something.
    Dex interrupted her thoughts. “I sometimes regret getting you into this. I thought I was helping, but…” He trailed off.
    Eva picked a splinter from the table and held it between her fingers, studying the wood before dropping it to the ground. “I’m happy,” she said. “I have no complaints.”
    And it was mostly true. She looked at Dex, the one who had stepped into the wreckage of her life and pulled her out. It had been Wade Roberts’s idea to make drugs in the chemistry lab her junior year of college. But Eva had been the one with the skills. The one who said yes when she should have said no .
    She tried hard not to think of that day in the dean’s office, of the way Wade had slipped past everything and landed back in his charmed life, throwing touchdowns and luring girls too stupid to know better into doing things they shouldn’t.
    After they’d escorted her from the building, after she’d packed her bags and turned in her dorm key, panic had swept through her, deep and immobilizing. She had no one to turn to, nowhere to go. And then Dex appeared, sliding up next to her as she stood on the sidewalk outside her dorm, the same way she’d slipped alongside Brett that morning.
    At the time, she only knew Dex as someone who hung around Wade and his friends, dark hair and startling gray eyes. He wasn’t a student, and Eva could never figure out how he fit in. Like her, he rarely spoke, but he watched everything.
    â€œI heard about what happened,” he’d said. “I’m sorry.”
    She looked away, ashamed at how naive she’d been. How easily Wade had manipulated her. And how he’d gotten off and she’d gotten expelled.
    Dex looked over her shoulder at some unseen object and spoke. “Look, it’s a shitty situation. But I think I can help you.”
    She shoved her hands into her pockets against the cool fall night. “I doubt that.”
    â€œYou have a skill that I think can benefit both of us.”
    She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œThe drugs you made were great. I know a guy who can set you up with the equipment and the supplies to keep making them. His chemist is leaving the business, and he needs someone immediately. It’s a great opportunity, if you want it. Totally safe. You make the drugs, he’ll let you keep half to sell yourself. You can make more than five thousand dollars a week.” Dex laughed, a bitter sound puffing into the air around them. “A school like this always has a need for uppers. Little pills that will get these kids through the next test, the next class, whatever.” He gestured toward a group of students passing them on their way to the next bar or party, already drunk, laughing and in love with themselves. “They’re not like you or me. They take Daddy’s money, or the donor’s money, and think nothing can touch them.”
    He looked into Eva’s eyes, and she felt