The tenuous thread, that had been barely holding the class in check, snapped. Hoots and childish remarks bounced off the walls like cannon fire, ripping holes through my eardrums. I was sure the far end of the school could hear them, the noise they were making ridiculous.
“Be quiet!” I hollered, having to shout it more than once before they settled down. I levelled a glare at Dante, who looked like he was having fun, his eyes shining so brightly they could have had their own solar system.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my class so much,” I said dryly. “But please keep your comments class related or I will send you to the principal.”
He smirked. “Aye, aye, darling, I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He pretended to zip his lips.
Shaking my head at him, I went to start the lesson, hoping I could get through it all with the amount of time he’d wasted. But before I could get a word out, rap music started up, the sounds of California Love making me jolt. My eyes snapped back to Dante, who’d shifted the boom-box to his desk, the tin can blasting loud.
“Turn that off,” I yelled.
Smiling, he leaned his arms on the boom-box, resting his chin on top.
“Turn it off!”
He turned it up.
Finally losing my temper, I stalked over to his desk and leaned across the boy sitting next to him, reaching for the boom-box’s switch. Dante clamped a hand over it.
“Move your hand,” I ordered.
He turned the music even higher.
“Dante!”
“That’s my name, what’s yours?” he asked, finally speaking.
“It’s on the whiteboard, so turn it off!”
“No, I wanna know your first name. Gimme it and I’ll do whatever you desire.”
“Clara.”
Smiling wickedly, he switched the music off. “Cool, now I have sumpthin’ to call out when I come.”
The class burst out laughing yet again.
“You just earned yourself a detention,” I snapped.
He snorted. “You’re really threatening me with detention?”
I nodded, thinking one wasn’t enough for him. “For today and tomorrow.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?!”
He stopped laughing, although a few sniggers escaped as he answered me. “Another teacher has already given me detention for the week, so you’ve gotta give me more incentive to shut my mouth.”
“An education.”
He snorted out another laugh. “You don’t needa educate me.”
“Yes, I do, it’s what I get paid for.”
“Nah, you’re gettin’ paid to babysit us, cos once this year’s up, you and every other adult can’t make us do jack shit.”
“Why are you being so rude to me?”
“I’m just stating how it is, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart and you can go to the principal’s. I’ve had enough of you.”
“Mmmh, I’ll never get enough of you.” Keeping his eyes on me, he placed his hands on his desk and pushed back, scraping his chair across the lino flooring, probably damaging it in the process. He rose to his feet and hooked his bag over a shoulder. His friend moved his chair forward, letting Dante squeeze past him. He grabbed the boom-box and pursed his lips, giving me an air kiss. “See ya later, sweetheart.” He strutted towards the door, leaving it banging in his wake, making me shake with fury.
“Ignore him, miss,” a soft voice said. “Dante’s rude to everyone.”
I turned to search for the owner of the voice. A girl raised her hand in a friendly hello. She was sitting in the front row, smiling at me with sympathy. She had a mouth full of braces and soft grey eyes. Her hair was dyed-black, which made her fair skin appear even paler. She looked like an emo, the black tie around her neck not part of the uniform. She also had dark eye makeup and a lip ring, which definitely went against regulations. But I wasn’t about to mention it, especially since she was the only kid being nice to me.
“I wouldn’t take what he said personally,” she continued, “if anything, you got off lighter than the last teacher he ran out of here.”
“What did he do to them?”
“He constantly called her a racist bitch and mooned her, telling her to kiss his hori arse if she didn’t like how he spoke. That’s a racial slur referring to Maoris. It’s like how the Americans use the N word.”
“I know what hori means.”
“Sorry, miss, you have a posh accent like a Pom.”
“I spent some time in England, but I’m still from Auckland. And I hope Dante was suspended for what he did,” I said, not believing my ears.
“Yup. Dante collects suspensions like Jasper collects boogers.”
A yell came from beside me, the boy who’d been sitting next to Dante obviously Jasper, the nose-picking offender. The rest of the class started laughing, this lesson turning into a comedy-fest. I quietened them down, along with the boy who was spluttering that he didn’t pick his nose.
The girl grinned sheepishly at me. “Sorry, miss, couldn’t resist that. Anyways, no matter how many times Dante’s been suspended he always comes back like a bad smell. He’s even been to youth prison. One time the cops came into class and arrested him. He’s evil to the bone.”
Jasper yelled at the girl to shut her “dyke face” about Dante. She flicked him the finger, not looking worried that she’d angered a boy three times her weight, another thing that shocked me. I didn’t expect a fifteen-year-old to be so big or look so old. Not only did he have stubble, he could have easily passed off as a twenty-something. Though, he didn’t act like an adult, the words coming out his mouth extremely childish.
My eyes zeroed in on the loud-mouthed oaf, already forgetting his name. Jester? Casper? No, it was...
“Jasper,” I said, his name finally coming back to me, “you can leave too if you’re going to speak that way in my class.”
He pushed up, his glare making me take a step back, the boy a lot scarier than Dante. He grabbed his bag and lumbered towards the door, disappearing out it. I shook my head, thinking Beverly was right about how many kids I would send out.
Gathering my composure, I headed for the front of the class, hoping this was just a rough start to an otherwise brilliant year.
5
DANTE
Since I only had one class after English, I decided to skip the remainder of school and head to my cousin’s place, hoping he could give me some extra work. He lived in Claydon, the suburb next to Wera. People thought it was the worst neighbourhood in New Zealand, the equivalent to the Wild West. Fibrolite houses and graffitied walls populated the landscape, while the barking of dogs, rap music, and the occasional burst of a police siren provided the soundtrack. And I loved it. Claydon was as much a home to me as Wera was; a place I fitted in. I knew the streets well, had even lived off them after I’d escaped youth prison. I’d been twelve or thirteen at the time. I couldn’t even remember why I’d been sent there. Probably for stealing or maybe it was for selling weed at Wera Intermediate.
I passed the local kindergarten and primary school, taking a sharp left down the road my cousin and older brother lived on. If Claydon was the worst neighbourhood, Pleasant Parade was the worst road, its name the height of irony. The houses looked like shite, just in different shades of crappy. Though, my cousin’s place wasn’t that bad. If anything, it was a lot better than the shithole I lived in. It was a single level, three-bedroom bungalow, with a fresh coat of paint. I ran up the driveway, happy that he was home. His Chevy was parked out front, the dark green paintjob shining like a wet dream.
Hoping he was working in the garage, so I didn’t have to see my brother, I slipped through the side door. Half the space was filled with gym equipment, while the other half was jammed with boxes, which were piled so high they blotted out the windows. There was only one patch of floor that was left empty, which was usually lined with a piece of carpet. Right now it was rolled back, revealing a trapdoor, su
ggesting my cousin was down below, working in his lab.
I thumped on the trapdoor, calling out, “Hunter, you down there?”
I stepped back, waiting a few seconds for him to answer. No reply came. I called out his name again. Next thing, the trapdoor burst open, clattering against the floor. My cousin’s head appeared through the hole. He was a rough-looking bloke in his late twenties, with a face that wasn’t ugly, but not far off it.
“How’d you get in ’ere?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the door. “I locked it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He swore, looking annoyed. “I needa be more careful. If you were a cop, I’d be nicked. Anyway, why you ’ere? Thought you were back at school.”
“Finished early. You got any work for me?”
He glanced down the ladder he was standing on. “I can give ya some party pills,” he said, looking back up at me. “I just made up a new batch.”
“How much will I get for ’em?”
“A coupla hundred, depending on how much you sell.”
I grimaced, the amount nowhere near enough to pay the bills. “You got anything worth my time?”
He shook his head.
“Oh, come on, man, Dad only had enough cash to cover the rent. I hafta pay the power bill, not to mention eat.”
Hunter grimaced. “He didn’t get fired from his job again, did he?”
“No, he’s just taken too many sick days, which means we’re short of cash.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah, it wuz just the flu,” I lied, knowing Hunter would try to get me to live with him if he knew my father was off his bipolar meds again. He didn’t trust my father to look after me, saying he was too reckless and unstable, but what Hunter didn’t realise was that my dad needed me to look after him, not the other way around.
“He’s back at work now,” I added. “I just needa dig up some cash to cover what he lost. Sooo...” I paused, hoping Hunter wasn’t going to yell at me for asking, “can ya ... ah ... gimme some coke instead?”
His dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “The last time I gave you coke you snorted half of it and didn’t pay. I had to cover the loss outta my own pocket.”
I ran a hand over the back of my neck, feeling bad about that. “I’m not gonna snort this lot, I’m more interested in eating,” I said, not bothering to tell him it hadn’t just been me who’d consumed his coke. My two best mates had bugged me for some, which had led to the three of us getting so wired we’d gone through half a grand’s worth before I knew it. “I promise I’ll do you right this time, and you know I’m good at shifting product.”
“Yeah, up your fuckin’ nose.”
“Come on, cuz, that wuz one time in a hundred.”
He stared at me for a long moment, looking like he was trying to decide whether to trust me or not, which he should, because I was more concerned with having electricity and food than getting buzzed on coke.
“Please, Hunter,” I said. “I’m desperate.”
He exhaled loudly. “Okay. But if you fuck up with this lot, I’ll be taking your dad’s Harley.”
My face dropped. “You can’t, man, he’ll skin the both of us alive. He loves that motherfuckin’ bike. If he could marry it, I’m sure he would.”
“He won’t touch either of us, and I’m sick of hiding what you’re doin’ from him. You should tell him, Dante.”
“He won’t lemme continue and we need the cash, you know that.”
“Then don’t fuck up with this lot of coke. I’ve got my own bills to pay.”
I nodded. “I promise, man, I’ll make you a profit.”
“Good. And get some backup. I don’t want you selling it by yourself. Ask Jasper to help.”
I nodded again, although I had no intention of asking Jasper, since he would demand a cut. I needed every last cent—not a penny less.
Hunter stared at me for a moment longer than I felt comfortable with. It made me worry he was going to change his mind. But luckily, he disappeared down the ladder, not going back on his word. Through the trapdoor, I could see a long line of benches below. There were also hydroponic glass containers and other apparatus he used to produce a variety of drugs. Though, coke wasn’t one of them. He got that from a drug lord, who took a cut from all his sales.
Hunter emerged through the trapdoor, climbing out of it. He was taller than me, just over six foot. He looked like a Polynesian version of Ice Cube, with his beard, the LA cap on his head, as well as his flannel shirt and blue jeans. He held out a bag of what looked like a few grand’s worth of profit in white powder, one third my cut. I swiped it off him and stuffed it into my backpack before he could change his mind.
“I really appreciate this, cuz,” I said, zipping up my bag.
“You should.” His gaze moved to the bandage above my eye. “You gettin’ into trouble again?”
“Some dickheads jumped me, but I’m cool, nuthin’ serious.”
“You gimme their names and I’ll send some guys round to sort them out.”
“Nah, me and my mates will get ’em back.” I lifted my chin up in a farewell. “I should get goin’.”
He nodded. “Lemme walk you out.” He closed the trapdoor and pulled the carpet over it, then herded me out of the garage, locking the door behind us. He slung an arm over my shoulders and steered me past my nephew’s playhouse. The washing line was full of cloth nappies and baby clothes, my brother having a one-year-old.
“You should come inside for some food and say hi to your brother,” Hunter said, directing me to the back of the house.
Although I was hungry as hell, I pulled free from underneath his arm. “Nah, I’m good,” I replied, not wanting to see Ash.
Hunter’s face saddened. “C’mon, cuz, you can’t keep avoiding him. I know you’re pissed off with him for tryna top himself, but he’s better now.”
“I’m not pissed off with him,” I said, I’m angry with myself for letting him down.
“Then, why are you ignoring him?”
“I’m not.”
“Tell that to someone who believes you, cos I sure as hell don’t. So, come inside.”
“Honestly, I really don’t have the time,” I said, heading for the side of the house, wishing he would stop trying to thrust Ash onto me. Every time I looked at my brother, it hurt like hell knowing I could’ve prevented him from being raped by my stepfather. I could’ve also prevented my mother from being killed. But it was too late to speak out about what my stepfather had done to me... might’ve done to me. For all I knew, it could’ve been a fevered hallucination. I had been sick at the time. I continued down the driveway, preferring to think of it that way, because if it was a hallucination, I had no reason to feel guilty. If anything, I had no reason to even think about it at all, because it’s...
“...not real,” I muttered.
“What’s not real?” Hunter asked, following me to the gate.
“Nuthin’. See ya later,” I said without looking back. I lifted my hand in farewell as I headed down the footpath, leaving him behind with my brother, who needed me like a hole in the head.
Within no time, I was back in Wera, cutting across lawns and hoping over fences to get home quicker. As I rounded a property, I stopped in my tracks at the sight of Happy Meal and his two mates across the road. They were leaning against the wall of a dairy, passing a packet of chips around in front of the shop. They were being overly loud and obnoxious as usual, their attention fixated on a girl who was walking past. She scurried off fast, heading in the worst possible direction: mine.
Happy Meal’s eyes landed on me a second later. A cruel smile pulled at his lips. I didn’t wait long enough to see what he did next, because I was spinning around and running for my life.
“Get that fucker!” Other shouts followed, including death threats. The shit thing was, I was heading in the opposite direction to my house. Even worse, I couldn’t keep up this speed all the way to my cousin’s place. I was fast, but Happy Meal
was faster, the bastard a winger in Wera High’s rugby team, not to mention his legs were longer than mine.
I glanced over my shoulder, spotting him gaining on me, his mates not far behind him, those bastards also in his team. Needing to throw some obstacles in their way, I cut into a property and sprinted down the gravel driveway, my boots crunching against the loose surface. I passed an old station wagon, aiming for the back fence, knowing I could at least lose the prop, since he was too short to haul his stocky arse over it.
I leapt at the fence and grabbed the top, pulling myself up and over it. I landed on the other side with a thud, then sprinted past a woman hanging washing on the clothesline. She shrieked in surprise, the sound turning into a scream as my pursuers cleared the fence. I glanced back, spotting Happy Meal and one of his mates still on my tail, the other, as expected, nowhere to be seen. I cut right, now heading towards my house. If I got back in time, they wouldn’t dare enter my property. My pit bulls would rip their throats out if they even tried. But I had to get there first—and through the locked gate.
Behind me, the pounding of feet grew louder. I glanced over my shoulder as I neared the end of Balwyn Road, spotting the two bastards closing in on me. The distance between us was decreasing at a rapid rate, Happy Meal far too fast for me. If he hadn’t had his mate backing him up, I would’ve spun around and taken him on, because I was just as good a fighter as he was, if not better. But I didn’t have a chance against the both of them, plus I was still hurting from the beating they’d given me earlier.
I rounded another corner and sprinted down the road. Even though my chest was burning like I’d swallowed a jarful of jalapenos, I picked up speed, which only made my bruised ribs throb even more. It felt as though my lungs were about to burst through them.
In the distance I could see Phelia’s house, its pink exterior reminding me of candy floss. I wished I’d accepted her invitation, because instead of running, I’d be coming. I almost laughed at my pathetic joke, but couldn’t expel air I didn’t have, everything inside of me dying badly. In a moment of desperation, or stupidity, I considered banging on her door for help, but quickly came to my senses, knowing it would infuriate Happy Meal even more, especially since she was the reason all of this was happening.
Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) Page 4
