Surviving Rage | Book 3

by Arellano, J. D.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Virginia Beach, Virginia

  October 5th, 2007

  “Cool pants, honey!”

  “Mom, don’t call me ‘honey!’”

  Stephen Baldinger glared at his mother as he crossed the kitchen, reaching for his lunch bag on the edge of the counter. Grabbing the insulated bag, he looked inside briefly, checking to see if she’d remembered to pack the Fruit Gushers. She had. Closing the bag, he stuffed it in his backpack.

  His mother put her hands up in surrender, still holding the spatula she’d been using to flip pancakes. “Sorry, I just like your pants...”

  “Mom, stop. They’re just pants.” Though he’d never admit it, Stephen really did like his new corduroy pants, which, like his light pastel polo shirt, were purchased for him by his mother the day before after he’d pestered her for the better part of the morning.

  “Okay, fine.” His mother looked away from him, refocusing her energy on the pancakes. Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun, save for a few strands that had worked loose while she worked. Trim and attractive, she’d been gathering the attention of Stephen’s friends from school recently, much to his annoyance. She smiled slightly as she slid a pair of pancakes onto his plate, then quickly added a small pile of scrambled eggs next to them.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” she said, setting the plate in front of him at the small kitchen table.

  “Thanks.” Stephen replied flatly, turning to look out the window. It was going to be a nice day, which was both good and bad. Good because he wouldn’t get too hot walking to school in his corduroy pants. Bad because nice weather meant they’d have to do P.E. outside…

  “What are you looking at, dufus?” His sister Angela plopped down in the chair across from him, setting a bowl of fruit and a plate of scrambled egg whites on the table in front of her. She was dieting. AGAIN.

  “Angela, be nice…” His mother said, shaking her head as she took the pan and spatula to the sink.

  “Nothing,” he said, using his fork to cut away a portion of the stacked pancakes. He stuffed the food in his mouth, staring down at his plate.

  “Yeah, right! You’re probably looking for SARA …” His sister laughed before popping a blueberry in her mouth. As usual, her makeup was perfectly applied, her hair perfectly brushed, teased, and hair sprayed into submission. Her clothes molded her body tightly, exposing her stomach and a good deal of cleavage, which was assisted by her heavily padded bra.

  ‘Great,’ Stephen thought, ‘I’ll have to hear about this outfit from the guys.’ His friends openly ogled her whenever she walked by in the lunch area, staring at her chest as she approached, then at her butt as she walked away.

  Not once did they acknowledge how uncomfortable it made Stephen feel.

  “Nuh unh,” he said, shoveling another bite of pancakes into his mouth.

  “Yeah hunh!” Angela replied, taking a bite out of a strawberry. “You always wait until you see her coming up the street before you leave the house. Then you follow her all the way to school!” She shook her head, tossing the top of the strawberry back into the bowl. “Do you think she doesn’t notice?”

  “Whatever.” Embarrassed, Stephen got up, grabbed his plate, and walked over to the trash can, intent on tossing the food. Standing over the trash can, he quickly shoveled the remainder of the food into his mouth. Noticing his sister still looking at him, he turned and looked back.

  “What?”

  “You’re getting chubby,” Angela replied, grinning as she looked him up and down.

  “Angela!” His mother’s voice filled the kitchen as he rushed outside, slamming the door behind him.

  Shuffling down the sidewalk, he pulled his backpack on, looping the straps over each shoulder in the process. Looking down at his stomach, he noticed the bulge that pressed against his polo shirt, pushing the fabric outward. Maybe he was getting chubby, but at five foot eight, he was pretty tall for a fourteen year old, so maybe he’d grow into the extra weight. Either way, he felt it wasn’t his fault. He liked food, and his mother liked cooking for him.

  Ever since his father left, his mother had been focused on him and his sister, working tirelessly to satisfy their wants and needs. Fortunately, the child support and alimony payments his father made were more than enough to cover the cost of their expenses, allowing his mother to stay at home. It was a lot of money, but it served him right, considering he’d left their mother after 22 years of marriage, including seven years of her supporting him while he attended law school, took the bar exam, and then spent years working as a junior associate.

  When Stephen’s father finally moved up in the firm he worked at, he and Stephen’s mother had decided it was time to have children. Nine months later, Angela was born. Two years later, Stephen followed, the seventh Baldinger male child between his father and three uncles. Being the seventh boy in a long line of male children, minimal attention was paid to him at birth, at birthdays, or at family gatherings.

  In a short time, it became clear that his father was as uninterested in Stephen as the rest of his side of the family. Having a boy was little more than a check in the box for him, and having accomplished that, he considered his job done. Focused on making partner at the firm he worked for, he dedicated his time and energy into caring for and grooming the one thing he cared about: himself.

  In response, Stephen found himself looking up to his big sister more and more. She became the source of approval and encouragement, the person who guided him through the challenges he faced as he grew up with a largely absent father.

  Unfortunately, like most brothers and sisters, as Stephen and Angela grew up, they grew apart. The days of playing together and enjoying each other’s company became a distant memory, and with the change came strife.

  When his father left his mother three years ago to be with a young, attractive woman who worked as a legal clerk at his firm (at which he was now a partner), Stephen found himself increasingly alone. His mother saw this and worried over it, but there wasn’t much she could do. Teenage boys simply aren’t that open with their mothers. His mother reached out to him repeatedly, hoping to help him better deal with the emotions and hormones that were flowing through his teenage mind, but as he felt more and more alone, he pushed her further and further away.

  Finally, in the last year of middle school, he managed to become friends with a small group of boys. Though his mother found them to be odd, a bit ill-tempered, and didn’t necessarily treat Stephen well, she never objected to him socializing with them.

  Stephen spent lunchtime at the high school with the group everyday, trying to act cool while looking on wistfully at the pretty girls who came and went, ignoring their comments about his older sister and ‘how hot she was.’ Being part of the group wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing.

  Better than not being part of something.

  The two bright spots for him were Sara from down the street and his cousin Eddie.

  He’d know Sara for almost ten years, since the days when hanging out with his sister was still commonplace. While Sara and Angela had been the two leaders, Stephen had tagged along dutifully, going along with whatever game or imaginary play scenario they came up with.

  As they’d grown older, Stephen had begun to notice how pretty Sara was and found himself staring at her more and more frequently. Being young and clumsy, his attention did not go unnoticed, either. Sara began to feel uncomfortable with his staring, and after months of suspicion that he was being a creep, she and Angela finally caught Stephen staring down the front of her shirt when she bent over.

  The friendship soured after that, with Sara first becoming awkward around him, later ignoring him, and recently looking at him with disdain. I
n truthfulness, Stephen did try to time his walks to school with hers, but it wasn’t to check her out. It was done out of the hope that he could somehow find the words to apologize, to somehow make things okay again. She probably wouldn’t want to be friends with him the way they used to be, but maybe she’d at least stop looking at him like he was a toad. Someday he’d find the courage to speak up.

  Until then, at least he could see her on his way to school.

  His cousin Eddie (on his mother’s side) was the one male role model that still remained in his life. Though he lived over an hour away (mostly due to traffic), he still came to visit during the holidays and other family gatherings. Tall, fit, and good looking, Eddie maintained a sense of ‘cool’ that made him fun to be around. Smooth-talking with a pleasing smile, he put adults at ease with his politeness and kind words, and made talking to girls seem easy. No matter how long it had been since they’d send each other last, he and Eddie fell right back into their routine almost instantly, with Eddie talking to Stephen like they were peers, treating him like an equal.

  Like someone as cool as him.

  “Uh, can you like, watch it?”

  Startled, Stephen jumped before turning to look towards the sound of the voice that came from behind him.

  It was Sara.

  Right here in front of him.

  It was his chance to apologize, to tell her he was sorry and that he just wanted to be friends, or at least acquaintances. To tell her that he wasn’t a creep.

  “Oh. Uh, sorry.” Stephen stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, letting her pass.

  With a flip of her hair, she strode by, her miniskirt bouncing as she walked away, showing off her tan, toned legs. Stephen quickly looked away, afraid of ever being caught by her again.

  Head down, he fell in behind her, giving her space as he walked the same route to school. Inside, he cursed himself for his inability to talk to girls.

  ‘Why can’t you be more like Eddie?’

  Taking a bite of his chicken sandwich, Trevor Wilkerson looked at him, chewing as he spoke. “Dang, Steve, your sister’s bangin’, bro!”

  Stephen shook his head, looking away. “Whatever, dude.” Trevor wasn’t part of their group, and never talked to any of them until today, when he’d come over to pester Stephen’s friend Jacob to let him copy his homework. Tall and lanky with long hair, Trevor used his ‘bad boy’ image to intimidate freshmen boys and flirt with freshmen girls.

  The fact that he was a Senior and had recently turned 18 helped him on both fronts.

  “Seriously, bro, when I saw her in that tank top, her tits were like, ‘pow!’” He held his hands out in front of his chest, indicating what he meant.

  “Man, cut it out, will ya…”

  Seeing that he was getting under Stephen’s skin, the long-haired Senior continued. “Nah, bro, she looks good, man. You should be proud to have a sister that hot.”

  Stephen stood up from his spot on the bench, intending to leave. “Whatever…”

  Trevor stepped in front of him. “What, dude? You’re not?” He cocked his head back, looking up and down at Stephen, measuring him. “Wait, are you sure you’re not adopted?”

  Beyond irritated, Stephen looked up at Trevor, wishing he was bigger, or at least more muscular. Or at least had some muscles.

  “Dude, we’re related. We have the same dad.”

  “Oh yeah, where is he, then?”

  The comment stung. It was one he’d heard for the last three years - sometimes in hushed whispers, sometimes to his face. Either way, it hurt. Feeling tears coming on, Stephen pushed past him, aware of the small crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation.

  Relishing the attention Trevor stepped around to get in front of him again, blocking his path. “You sure, bro? Tell you what, if she really is related to you, you can set me up with her.”

  “She has a boyfriend.”

  “I heard they broke up.”

  Stephen blinked in surprise. He hadn’t heard that, and Angela certainly hadn’t indicated that they’d broken up.

  “So?”

  “So? So maybe he wasn’t taking care of her needs, you know what I’m saying?”

  Stephen regarded the bigger boy skeptically. “I’m sure that’s not it.”

  Trevor grinned, looking around at the crowd for approval. He shrugged, bringing his hands up. “I’m just telling you what I think.” He reached out and smacked Stephen on the arm. “Tell you what, though. Hook me up and I’ll take care of her. I’ll take care of her all night lon - ”

  Stephen’s fist struck him in the mouth, splitting his lip and knocking him off-balance. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked back at the shorter, chubby kid in front of him.

  Stephen heard the crowd gasp in astonishment, and he knew he was about to get the beating of his young life.

  Raising his fist, Trevor stepped forward. “You’re dead, you little - ”

  “Hold it right there!” Mrs. Washington, the lunch supervisor intervened quickly, stepping into the circle. A large black woman, she was firm but fair in her duties. When she was approached nicely, she responded nicely, showing a big smile and on occasion sharing a hearty laugh. At this moment, she was neither smiling or laughing. She pointed at Trevor. “Office. Now!”

  “But he hit me!”

  “I said now!”

  “Man….” Trevor glared at Stephen. “After school,” he snarled, before spinning on his heel and walking away, flipping his long hair to indicate it was no big deal.

  Looking at Mrs. Washington, Stephen swallowed. “What about me?”

  The woman turned and looked at him, the anger in her eyes fading a bit. “Oh, you’re going to the office, too. I’ll escort you in a minute.” Turning to the gathered crowd, she raised her voice to be heard.

  “Alright, move along! Lunchtime is over in five minutes! Might as well put your stuff away so maybe you can get to class on time for once!”

  Slowly, the crowd dispersed, mumbling as they did. A few of them, including Stephen’s friends, looked back at him, concern and sadness on their faces.

  When they were finally alone, Mrs. Washington nodded. “Okay, let’s go.” She walked beside him across the quad, headed towards the office. As they approached the building that housed the Principal’s office, she looked over at him.

  “You know you messed up, right?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You’ve never had a discipline issue, so you’ll probably just get a warning.”

  Stephen nodded, feeling better. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, well… Trevor’s done time in Juvenile Detention. For assault.”

  Stephen went pale as he felt his lunch churning in his stomach. He suddenly felt the need to vomit. Why did he have to hit the guy? Why couldn’t he just walk away? Desperate, he looked back at the woman, his face filled with fear.

  “Do you have any advice?”

  “Yeah,” she said, turning away. “Run.”

  Mrs. Washington had been right about his punishment. He’d received a warning for his actions and been allowed to go back to class, with the understanding that Mr. Canty, the Principal, would personally call Stephen’s mother to tell her what he’d done. Mr. Canty railed against him for several long minutes, explaining the severity of his actions and how it could lead to injuries, death, and even worse, lawsuits for the school.

  Throughout it all, Stephen was in another place, his mind working in an effort to try to find a way out of his predicament.

  He didn’t want to fight Trevor.

  He couldn’t fight Trevor.

  It would be suicide, and worse, humiliating.

  “Are you listening, Stephen?” Mr. Canty was leaning forward over his desk, his dark eyes fixed on Stephen. Short, heavy, and balding, the Principal was known both for his no-nonsense approach and his dedication to the well being of the school’s students.

  Stephen blinked, trying to refocus. “Yes, sir. I’m just, uh, no
t feeling well.”

  “Do you need to go see the nurse?”

  “No, no sir. I’ll be okay.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Mr. Canty looked at him, his eyes softening. “I’m surprised by this, Stephen. You’ve never been one to get into trouble.”

  “I know, but he was talking about my sister…”

  Mr. Canty raised his hand, cutting him off. “I know, and I’m sure it made you mad, but you need to control your emotions.”

  Dropping his head, Stephen muttered, “I know…”

  “Alright, well, get to class.” Mr. Canty turned back to his computer and clicked his mouse, opening a file.

  Stephen rose from his chair and walked out of the office, his head hanging low. Aside from the fact that Trevor was likely going to beat him to a pulp, his mom would tear into him as well once she received Mr. Canty’s call.

  Walking through the hallways, he wondered if he should simply try to leave school before the day ended. While not an easy feat, there were a few spots on campus where the fences could be scaled, given some effort. (For him it would likely be a significant effort.)

  But leaving would lead to only more trouble. He’d never been tardy, never skipped class, and never been truant. His mother’s rules were largely geared to appease his sister and him, but when it came to school, she was steadfast and unyielding.

  So that wasn’t an option.

  Maybe Trevor would let it go. Maybe he’d already been in enough trouble. He’d already been in Juvie, so he was probably on probation, right? Beating up Stephen would have to violate his probation, which would probably land him back behind bars. Surely he wouldn’t want that.

  Stephen made it to fifth period before finding out his fate.

  Mark Spencer, one of Trevor’s few friends, cornered him in the hallway near his locker, stepping close enough for Stephen to smell the older boy’s powerful B.O. and the cheap Axe body spray he used to try to mask it. Raising his voice loud enough for those around the two of them to hear, he pointed his finger at Stephen’s chest.