I exited the staffroom, almost getting bowled over by Ronald. The boy was sprinting down the corridor with an expression even more venomous than Beverly’s. If looks could kill, the person he was after would already be dead.
17
DANTE
I headed out of school with Jasper on my heels. “Stop walking so fast, Dante!” he wheezed. I kept up my pace, wishing he’d get the picture I didn’t want to talk to him. I’d ignored him for most of the day and now he was on a mission to find out why. I felt bad about it, but couldn’t help myself. Looking at him reminded me of what his auntie had done, and although I knew it wasn’t his fault, I just couldn’t deal with it right now. I should’ve skipped school, but had stupidly thought it would distract me, but even music was a chore, while English... Despite the part where we talked about dance, it had been intensely uncomfortable, especially when the teacher had read my poem. I knew she meant well, but fuck, I didn’t even let my counsellor see that part of me. It was private, intensely private, something no one had a right to read.
I shouldered past a senior, getting a “Whatcha do that for, fucker!” in return, but instead of turning around and getting in his face for insulting me, I continued through the crowd of students, desperate to get away from Jasper. As I reached the footpath, a blue Ford pulled up to the kerb. It stopped next to me, making me tense.
Jasper’s auntie poked her head out of the driver’s window. “Want a lift?” she asked, smiling up at me
“Fuck yeah!” Jasper said, finally catching up. He rounded the car, yelling, “Thanks, auntie.” He squeezed his bulk into the front passenger seat, slamming the door shut.
His auntie normally told him off for that, but instead, she kept her gaze trained on me. “You comin’?” She grinned, the bitch probably thinking her wording was funny.
I flicked her the finger and headed away from the car, not willing to be in the same space as her again. I stopped several paces away from the Ford at the sight of Mrs. Hatton. She was unlocking a yellow Volkswagen in the teachers’ car park. Looking frazzled, she slid a box into the car, then wiped her brow, sweet patches discolouring her blue blouse. It made her look more real, her appearance not faked to attract a guy. This was her, not a superficial exterior like Phelia put on. I wondered whether that was what I didn’t like about Phelia. She was just so fake—unlike Mrs. Hatton.
She closed the door and moved to the driver’s side, stopping as she noticed me staring at her. I didn’t look away, not caring that she’d caught me out. She dropped her gaze for a moment, focusing on the satchel slung around her body. She looked back up at me, probably perplexed as to why I was still staring at her. I didn’t know why I was doing it either, but for some reason her presence had pushed away the anger that had risen from seeing Jasper’s auntie. Or maybe it was because she was the polar opposite of that creepy opportunistic bitch. She cared about what I thought instead of what I could do for her, or more accurately, how I could do her.
“Dante,” Jasper called out. “What the fuck are you doin’? Get in the car!”
I glanced back at him. He’d gotten out of his auntie’s car and was staring at me over the roof, appearing just as perplexed as Mrs. Hatton. I wondered what my expression looked like to them. Probably blank, because my features felt frozen.
“I don’t want a ride,” I said.
“Well, you’re gettin’ one,” Jasper replied, “so stop bein’ a twat and get in.”
The sound of high heels clopping against the footpath pulled my attention away from him. I turned to see Mrs. Hatton approaching me. She was clutching a piece of paper in her hand, looking nervous. Again, the memory of her reading my poem came back. I hoped like hell she wasn’t going to bring it up, because there was no way I was discussing it with her.
She stopped in front of me and held out the paper. “This is for you.”
I looked down at it, the word SLAM capturing my attention. I took the flyer, giving it a quick onceover. It was advertising a slam poetry club.
I held it out for her to take back. “I don’t do slam.”
Her arms stayed by her sides. “Why not? Your poetry is great.” Her eyes widened as if she’d said the wrong thing. “I was referring to the Unhappily-Ever-After one, not the My Looks poem, although that was cleverly written too,” she babbled, her face growing redder by the second. “But I still shouldn’t have read it, I just didn’t realise you were writing something so personal. Regardless, I’m really sorry and wanted to tell you that you had every right to be angry with me, so let’s forget I ever saw it, and get back to the fact that you’re an incredibly talented poet—”
“No, I’m not,” I cut her off.
“Yes, you are. Your Unhappily-Ever-After poem was—”
“Good, but not great, and you can’t judge whether I’m talented after only reading one or two of my poems.”
“I’m not just basing it on your writing. The way you speak can be poetic too, like when you were talking about how New Zealand’s urban dance is different from America’s. The adding and subtracting part was really clever.”
I blinked, not used to people calling me clever. People called me dumb, stupid, obnoxious, arrogant, but never clever.
She tapped the flyer. “So, give it a try, you might like the club, might even win some competitions.”
A beep came from behind me, followed by Jasper yelling at me to get in the car again, the bastard not giving up. Sometimes it was a battle between us, neither one willing to back down, no matter how big or small the situation was. I glanced over my shoulder, about to swear at him, but instead my gaze landed on his auntie. She was glaring at Mrs. Hatton with a jealous scowl.
I flicked her the finger again, mouthing ‘Fuck off’ to the bitch.
Jasper yelled, “Well, fuck you too!” probably thinking I’d done it to him.
For a moment, I considered telling him it wasn’t directed at him, but decided against it, because at least it would get him off my back.
I turned back to Mrs. Hatton as Jasper’s auntie finally drove off, the screech of her tyres cringeworthy.
Mrs. Hatton dropped her gaze, looking embarrassed. “I’m also sorry about what happened yesterday,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I shouldn’t have done what I did or gotten angry with you when you pointed it out. I deserved everything you threw at me. It was wrong, I was wrong. Please forgive me,” she said, looking back up.
A second later it dawned on me that she was talking about watching me getting a blowjob.
“Why are you apologising?” I asked, thinking she had nothing to be sorry for. “I loved what you did, unlike...” I closed my eyes for a moment, a sudden rage bubbling up out of nowhere, angry at both myself and Jasper’s auntie. And Jasper too. I wanted to yell at him even though he wasn’t the one who’d fucked me over. Still, I’d told him that his auntie was creeping on me, yet he didn’t believe me, going to her defence instead of mine. And if I admitted to what she’d done yesterday, he’d probably call me a liar. Some fucking friend he was.
I balled my hands into fists, the memory of his auntie touching me working me up even more. Another memory sprung up in its place, of someone else touching me. I felt like screaming, lashing out, doing something—anything—to let the rage escape, but instead I shoved the memory down, burying it deep, telling myself it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream. Maybe I could do the same with what Jasper’s auntie had done, burying it so deep I’d barely remember it.
“Unlike, what?” a soft voice asked.
I opened my eyes, seeing Mrs. Hatton staring at me with concern.
“Are you still upset with me for reading your poem?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Then, what’s upsetting you?”
I didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.
She touched my arm. “Please tell me.”
I jerked my arm away from her touch, saying the first thing that came to mind. “I’m not interested in slam.” I shoved the flye
r at her, not caring as it fluttered away before she could take it. I took off down the road, knowing I couldn’t tell her—or anyone. I would deal with it on my own, like I always did.
***
I opened the gate to my place, setting my dogs off. Bob and Marley started barking and jumping all around me, excited to see me home. I smiled for the first time today, happy to see them too, my dogs always cheering me up. They didn’t judge me or get angry with me, only wanting my love and attention.
I locked the gate behind me and headed across my front lawn. Marley started butting her head against my leg. I stopped and looked down at her. “You want a cuddle, girl?”
She barked an affirmative. Smiling, I sat down in the middle of the lawn and held my arms out for her. She leapt at me, knocking me onto my back. She was a large girl, her fondness for food giving her a much bigger belly than Bob.
I laughed as she started licking my face. Bob tried to get some licks in too, both of them fighting for my attention. I turned my face towards the ground, but it just encouraged them more. They nudged it with their noses, trying to get me to turn my head back around. I started laughing manically, which only excited them more, causing them to jump on and over me. Without warning, my laughter hiccupped into a sob. It quickly turned into full-out sobbing, an overwhelming sadness descending over me, soaking into my bones, miring me down. My nose started to clog up, but I was unable to stop, everything bad all of a sudden hitting me, even the things I’d thought I’d gotten control over.
It had all began when my father started using meth five years ago. His anger had escalated to the point he became unrecognisable, a different person inhabiting his body. He’d lashed out at my mother and older brother, the drugs causing him to lose his mind, a mind that was already unstable from being bipolar. The police had to taser him more than once, the meth working through his blood making him inhuman. Then they’d locked him away for almost three years, leaving me and my family on our own. My brother had been happy, his connection to our father damaged beyond repair. But me. I’d missed him every day.
Then my mother met my stepfather...
I gripped onto my head, muttering that what the bastard had done to me hadn’t happened, because if it had, I would’ve told someone, anyone, no matter how ashamed and disgusted I’d felt, did feel, which meant my brother wouldn’t have gotten raped too. My mother would also be alive if I’d spoken out. She’d tried to protect me and Ash. I wanted her to protect me now, for her to hug and tell me everything would be all right. But nothing would ever be right again. There would always be people like my stepdad and Jasper’s auntie dragging me down, making me wish I’d died instead of my mother.
I brought my knees to my chest, curling up. My dogs stopped trying to climb over me. One of them started whimpering, while the other one nudged me gently as though he knew I was upset.
“Retard, what are you doin’ lying on the ground!” a voice yelled.
I uncovered my face and turned over, seeing Happy Meal glaring at me through my fence. Behind him, a car idled. One of his friends was sitting in the driver’s seat, also staring at me, but with curiosity rather than loathing.
I turned my head away and wiped my face, then pushed to my feet, yelling, “Fuck off!”
His eyebrows rose. “Have you been crying?”
“No!”
He laughed. “Looks like it to me. Fuck, you’re a reject. You can’t even get inside the house before you burst into tears like a li’l girl.”
I stormed over to the fence, gripping onto the wire meshing, yelling, “Fuck you!” into his face.
He sniffed derisively. “How ’bout you go fuck yourself, gay boy.”
“I’m not gay!”
He slammed his hand against the fence where my face was, pushing the wire into my flesh. I jerked my head back as my dogs went wild. Both Bob and Marley lunged at him, trying to attack Happy Meal through the fence.
He stepped back and pointed two fingers at Marley, cocking them up like a gun. He did the same to Bob. Then he moved them to me. “Stay away from my chick, Rata,” he said, firing his imaginary gun, “or the next time it won’t be my fingers I’ll be pointing at you.”
A yell came from across the road, causing Happy Meal to spin around. Jasper was lumbering across his front lawn as fast as he could move. Happy Meal jumped back into his friend’s car and slammed his door shut, yelling, “Go!” The heap of junk took off, its exhaust pipe backfiring, leaving behind a smelly plume of smoke.
Jasper approached the gate, his gaze furious. “What did that bastard say to you?”
I didn’t reply, concerned he’d go after Happy Meal.
He unlocked the gate, closing it behind him. Ignoring Bob and Marley, he strode towards me, stopping in his tracks as he drew closer. “Have you been crying?” he asked, looking surprised.
“No,” I grabbed my bag off the ground and headed for the house. “It’s allergies.”
The sound of his heavy footsteps followed me, the thump, thump, thump mirroring my heartbeat. He wasn’t going to let up, and I really wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with him—or anyone, right now.
Trying to think of an excuse to get rid of him, I unlocked my front door, too distracted to stop the dogs from barrelling past me. I went to follow them inside, yelling out as Jasper shoved me into the lounge.
He slammed the door shut behind us, his expression dead serious. “Why the hell are those pricks turning up to your house? And why’re ya bein’ an arsehole to me today?”
“I’m always an arsehole,” I said, turning to the passageway. “So, fuck off.”
He followed me down it. “Don’t you tell me to fuck off!”
I opened my bedroom door.
“Don’t ignore me either!” he snapped, grabbing my arm.
I jerked free and entered my room. “Give it up, Jasper, I’m not in the mood. Just go home. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.”
I went to close my door. He shoved it, knocking the edge into me. I yelled out, bringing a hand to my head. “What the fuck, Jasper!”
Looking unrepentant, he stepped inside my room. “Start talking. I want answers.”
I glared at him. “While I want you to piss off.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not happening until you tell me why you’ve been acting like a right cunt.”
“I need space.”
“I need space,” he mimicked, putting on a girl’s voice. “You sound like a whiny li’l bitch.”
“Why can’t you leave me alone!”
Not taking his eyes off me, he kicked the door shut with his heel. “Cos I want answers. And I want them now.”
Cursing under my breath, I turned away from him, grimacing as my eyes landed on my bed—where I’d fucked his auntie. The vile memory bubbled up, the images burnt into my retinas, making me want to chunder. Which was why I needed to force myself to forget. The drugs under my floorboards would help, as well as my fucked up mind.
“Is this ’bout Happy Meal showing up?” Jasper asked. “Is he why you’re bein’ a cunt?”
Ignoring him, I continued to stare at my bed. Goose bumps rose across my skin, making it crawl. His auntie had told me to close my eyes and imagine someone else, not even caring that I had to think about another woman to stay hard.
Jasper placed a hand on my shoulder. “I think we needa finish this thing with Happy Meal.”
I shook my head. “He’s not worth the trouble. He’s all talk and no balls,” I said, not caring about the prick. The coward wasn’t even worth a second thought, especially after he’d hightailed it when Jasper had showed.
“He’s not all talk. He attacked you—more than once. I also saw him cock his fingers at you and the dogs—”
“It wuz an empty threat to keep me away from his skank-ho girlfriend.”
“You’re underestimating the bastard.”
“I’ve known him for more than two years now,” I said, finally turning to face Jasper. “And all he’s done is spo
ut off shit and gimme a few bruises. Jesus, if he followed through on half the things he’d said, I would be pushing up daisies long ago.”
“This is different. He loves Phelia. Guys do crazy shit for hot pussy. If she were mine, I’d cap any guy who tried to take her from me. Not you of course, bros before hoes, but you get what I mean.”
“No, cos I don’t get why you all think she’s so great.”
“Only cos you’ve been spoilt for choice. What I wouldn’t give to look like you.”
I grimaced, knowing he’d take his words back if he knew what my looks really got me.
“And no one needs to know,” Jasper added.
“Know what?”
“I’ll make sure things are covered.”
“What are you on about?” I asked, Jasper sometimes hard to understand, especially when he jumped topics without warning.
Jasper’s face hardened. “Capping Happy Meal.”
My eyes widened. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
He shook his head.
“No!” I yelled. “You’re not killing him.”
Jasper grimaced. “Why the hell not? He’ll keep comin’ after you. I’ll also be doin’ the world a huge favour.”
“It doesn’t matter; you still can’t kill him.”
“It does matter. You needa get it into your thick head that he’ll keep comin’ after you, until one day he snaps and kills you. And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not, and I don’t understand why you can’t see how dangerous he is.”
“Cos there are worse things in the world than him.”
“Like what?”
Your auntie.
“Like what?” he repeated, looking frustrated with me.
Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) Page 16
