The Art of Being Indifferent (The Twisted Family Tree Series)

by Brooke Moss

  My nostrils flared. “Fat chance.”

  My teacher’s smile dropped and he looked down at me intensely. “You would be surprised how much you might have in common with Drew Baxter.”

  “Ugh.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I hate him. I can’t be in the same room with someone as cocky as him.”

  Mr. Kingston sipped his coffee again, then winced. “Ouch. Still hot. Listen… I know that pairing you with Drew isn’t your ideal situation, but—”

  “Pairing me with Drew was cruel and unusual punishment.” I glanced up at him, then quickly looked away once I saw he’d raised his eyebrows. “Ugh. I know I slacked off in your class, okay? If I promise to try harder in class, can I please not work with Drew? He’s jerk. A colossal jerk. He… he represents everything I hate about high school.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But right now you both need some serious help pulling a decent grade in my class, and I think that despite your differences, you can help each other. You may even come out of this with a friend.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. Drew and I will not be wearing matching BFF bracelets anytime soon.”

  “Well, you might want to rethink that.” Mr. Kingston started backing towards his classroom door. “Because I’m not letting either one of you off the hook. Now, I’ll let you take today off to regroup, but I expect you both to show up for your tutoring session tomorrow afternoon. If you don’t, you aren’t going to pass my class. Understood?”

  “Come on, Mr.—”

  He put his hand up. “I know that graduating is important to you, no matter how you might act in my class. And Posey, you won’t graduate without passing my class.”

  I bit my lip to keep from cussing at a teacher. And boy did I want to. I kind of wanted to tell him to go screw himself, or to throw himself in front of a bus, or whatever. But I wanted to graduate. My mother never graduated from high school. Neither did either of my aunts or my grandmother. Besides, graduating meant getting out of this town. Good lord, I wanted to get on the first ferry off this rock, then lose myself in the city…

  I grit my teeth. “Fine.”

  Mr. Kingston’s smile returned. “Good. I’m proud of you. And I’ll be checking on the two of you tomorrow. Be there.”

  Turning, I stalked away before he could say anymore. My stomach clenched and I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked through the doors into the cold afternoon air.

  I couldn’t believe I was being forced to work with Drew. Of all the spoiled, overconfident jock straps in the whole school, it had to be the king-daddy of them all. The next few months were going to be unbearable. I could only imagine what kind of melodrama being this tool’s tutor would bring into my life. Maddie-what’s-her-name was going to sic all of her obedient little blonde drones on me, and my interactions with the likes of Mac were going to get even worse from here on out.

  I shook my head, the wind whipping my hair around my face. I didn’t care what these backwoods losers thought of me. It didn’t matter that I was an outsider and would always be an outsider. It didn’t matter that Mr. Kingston thought some sort of musical montage would happen, and I would wind up with a group of besties in some sort of Disney channel fairy tale. In reality, I would be every bit as rejected after tutoring Drew as I was right then. It wouldn’t get better. If anything, it would get worse.

  “Damn.” My words got sucked away by the wind. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  I wanted out of here. I wanted to be as far away from Twisted Tree as I could get, and then some. I wanted to run away to the comfort of… of…

  My knotted stomach dropped like a brick. I didn’t have anywhere to run to. It’s not like I wanted to go back to any of my other foster homes. I had no idea where my mom was these days. She hadn’t exactly left a forwarding address when she pulled a no-show for her parental rights termination hearing. I’d never gotten close enough to my old friends in Seattle to know where their houses were, and the only boyfriend who’d ever shown me where he lived was now in Juvenile hall. Besides, I wasn’t even sure they’d remember me if I showed up on their doorsteps, anyway. The reason they accepted me as much as they had was because they were always high. Nobody liked me when they were sober. Hell, I didn’t like me sober. And I didn’t do any of that garbage anymore.

  I thought about Paula, probably sitting at home right now, making cookies for us to eat after school or some such domestic crap. Cookies I would likely reject, then sit in my bedroom alone wishing I hadn’t. I wondered what would happen if I walked through the front door and fell against her shoulder for a good cry? Would she wrap her arms around me and brush my hair away from my face? Would she tell me that tutoring Drew wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me, and that she thought I was capable of doing this without losing my ever-living mind?

  Or would she freeze in horror and gripe at me for getting mascara on her shirt?

  I blinked back the prickling sensation of impending tears. No way in hell was I going find out. I wasn’t willing to cry on Paula’s shoulder or anyone else’s. I hated rejection. It stung like a slap but didn’t leave a mark. The marks rejection left were below the surface.

  Screw that.

  I would use the walk home to pull myself together. I didn’t need Paula to sense a crack in my façade, and to try to weasel in with her super-mom-routine.

  Just off the back parking lot was a path leading to a tiny beach on the sound that nobody ever seemed to use. I’d discovered it my first week in Twisted Tree, and it had become my favorite way home. Sometimes I sat on the cracked, white logs for hours, watching the tide come in after school. The Coulters’ house happened to be just close enough to my beach I could run home through the woods in time to avoid getting in trouble.

  Today felt like a good day to chill there. Digging into my pockets, I fished out my ear buds and tucked them in. Time to give Etta James some of my undivided attention. I came around the corner into the back parking lot of the school, smiling to myself when I saw it sat practically empty except for a few leftover teachers’ cars. The front lot was probably filled with kids piling into cars and yelling back and forth at the bottleneck in the exit. Glad I didn’t have to walk through that madness.

  “Do you think this is a joke?” a man’s voice, deep and authoritative, screamed.

  “No, sir.”

  I looked around to see where the voices were coming from, my finger fixed over the play button on my iPod. There, along the back fence of the lot, was a parked sedan, its driver’s side door open and engine running. Backed against the side of the car stood Drew, with Mayor Baxter standing just an inch or two from his face. His hand clenched Drew’s neck, and his snarl was so angry I felt the tension from ten yards away.

  I froze, unsure what to do. They were having their little pow-wow right by the trailhead I needed to get to.

  “Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you.”

  From what I could see of the side of his face, Mayor Baxter’s glare exuded pure venom. Gone was the crinkly-eyed grin he wore when he kissed babies heads and cut ribbons at the few Twisted Tree events I’d been to. Now he could have been any one of the cold bastards my mom had brought home before the state yanked me.

  My blood ran cold. Back when I was six or seven, I’d ticked off one of my mom’s boyfriends—Kyle, I think—in the Burger King parking lot. I’d dropped my milkshake, getting it all over his boots, and he’d pinned me up against the side of his beat up old car and yelled at me until a lady in a nearby minivan hollered at him.

  Look at me when I talk to you, Kyle had yelled.

  I’d finished that afternoon off with a broken collarbone.

  I ducked down beside a pickup truck to avoid being seen.

  Drew turned his focus from the trees behind his dad’s head to his face. His face was red, and I could see the muscle in his jaw flexing. I couldn’t tell if he was trying not to cry or trying not to punch his dad in the face. Maybe both. And who could blame him?

 
“Why in the hell are you pulling a D in literature, Andrew?”

  Drew’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t know, sir.”

  Mayor Baxter’s hand squeezed his neck. “Wanna try answering that again?”

  “No…” Drew closed his eyes. “Sir.”

  I held my breath. What a bully. Every time I’d ever seen Mayor Baxter in town, he was nothing but polite and charismatic. He reminded me of a game show host, the way he paraded his wife and son around. And the house they lived in? I’d walked past it at least three dozen times and marveled at the manicured lawn and curved driveway every time. Never once had I thought this kind of stuff was happening behind closed doors. I thought dads like this only existed in the low income housing my mom kept us in.

  “You want to piss away your chance at a scholarship, fine by me,” Mayor Baxter growled, using his other hand to grind his finger into Drew’s chest. “But if you think for a second you’re going to get one dime of my money to pay to be a bum, you’re kidding yourself.”

  “I’m not gonna be a bum, Dad,” Drew croaked.

  Mayor Baxter grabbed Drew’s hair, and jerked his head back and forth one time. Hard. “Excuse me?”

  Drew flinched, and I swear I felt the pain on his throat myself. “Sir,” he choked.

  My chest felt tight, and I rubbed at it absently. I’d been in Drew’s position so many times. So many times. With my mom’s boyfriends, with my mom, with my aunt, with my grandpa, with scattered foster parents over the years. It never got any better, even when it happened to someone else. It was scary as hell no matter what. Even from across the parking lot.

  “I don’t want your money, sir,” Drew went on. “I don’t need it.”

  “Like hell you don’t.” Mayor Baxter released Drew’s neck and rammed his fist into the side of his car, rocking it back and forth. “You’re just like your mother. She wouldn’t survive five minutes without my gold card. Neither would you, you spoiled little prick.”

  Drew looked away from his father, his eyes scanning the parking lot.

  Don’t look him in the eye, Drew, I thought, watching him. He doesn’t deserve your respect. Don’t give it to him.

  His green eyes locked with mine, and I froze. Busted again.

  I thought about turning around and going back in the school, but then Mayor Baxter would hear me. God only knew what he would do to Drew then. Or me.

  So I just squared my shoulders and stood there. I don’t know why. It’s not like I cared about the likes of Drew friggin’ Baxter before now. Something about seeing someone who was usually cocky and over-confident getting pushed around and shoved into the side of a car by his own dad made me care. Just a little.

  Holding my breath to keep quiet, I tucked my hair behind my ears and offered Drew a tiny smile. Just a small, silent message letting him know that he wasn’t alone.

  Because nothing was worse when someone knocked you around than feeling utterly alone. Believe me, I knew. I remembered.

  “Do you hear what I’m saying, Andrew?” Mayor Baxter demanded, his hand returning to Drew’s face with a humiliating slap that echoed between the cars.

  Drew sucked in a sharp breath and brought his eyes back to his father’s. “Yes, sir. If I fail, I get no money.”

  “You get your grade up.” His dad warned, jerking Drew’s head again. The car behind them rocked and groaned. “Or I’ll make you the sorriest bastard in this town. Do you understand me? Baxters don’t fail. Baxters don’t fail.”

  Drew’s eyes met mine again, and my heart clenched. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the wind.

  “Get your ass into practice,” Mayor Baxter slowly released his son. “Now.”

  Drew stumbled away, scooping his backpack up off the pavement and shuffling towards the gym with his shoulders hunched. He looked defeated. Embarrassed. And the squeeze in my heart tightened.

  I ducked behind the pickup until Mayor Baxter drove away, spitting rocks behind his tires as he sped out of the parking lot. I stood back upright and I was alone in the parking lot. When I started walking towards the trail, my footsteps as heavy as my heart. What I’d just witnessed changed my perspective on Drew Baxter tremendously.

  Maybe Kingston was right. Maybe we weren’t so different after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Him.

  “Come on, dude.” Mac’s palm landed on my shoulder with a heavy whack. “If you don’t have to be to practice until four, then why the hell aren’t you driving to McDonald’s with me?”

  I laughed as we walked towards the library. “Because, A… McDonald’s is twenty minutes away, and if we go clear into Oak Harbor just so you can indulge yourself in a Big Mac, I’m going to be late.”

  My friend gave me a sideways glance, his blond hair flopping over his forehead. His mom was all over him to get a haircut, but he refused. Now he looked like he belonged in the senior class of 1975, instead of the class of 2014.

  “Come on, Drew,” he begged. “You know I’m not just going there for a hamburger.”

  “And B…” I continued. “I’m not driving all the way to Oak Harbor so that you can drool over the girl working the drive through window.”

  Mac groaned. “Come on, man. Have you seen her?”

  “Yeah.” We sidestepped a pack of freshman. “But what the hell are you doing? Don’t you already have a girlfriend?” He’d been messing around with Maddie’s best friend, Alexis, for months, and in second period, she had doodled his name circled with a heart inside her trig notebook.

  “Whoa.” Mac put his hands out. “Alexis and I aren’t official. I have declared nothing.”

  “Yeah, you should talk to her about that,” I told him as we rounded the corner towards the library. The doors were propped open, and Mrs. T hummed to herself behind the counter. “Because I don’t think she gets it. And girls are complex creatures, my friend.”

  “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mac socked me in the stomach. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”

  I hunched over and rubbed my middle. “Ow. Douche bag. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re ditching me and practice for one of those creatures.” Mac stopped at the library door and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The weirdest creature of them all, if I’m being honest. Come on, Baxter, what gives?”

  “Oh, you mean Posey.” I looked at the table where Posey and I had fought two days before, and drew a long pull of air.

  If anybody had asked me a week ago if I’d feel anything besides irritation toward Posey, I would’ve laughed in their face. But now? Now things were different.

  I wasn’t ready to buy matching Christmas sweaters or anything. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to say hi to her when she got here. But after yesterday afternoon… I guess I didn’t hate her anymore. When we’d locked eyes something happened. She wasn’t scared. Or if she was, she didn’t let on. She didn’t run crying to the principal or her parents, like any other kid would have. She’d just held her ground and stood there. I didn’t get pissed that she’d stayed.

  I was glad. Because as lame as it felt, it was a whole hell of a lot better knowing I wasn’t alone while my dad shoved me around in the school parking lot. Instead of worrying about someone catching us fighting, I’d had backup. Well, not the kind of backup that could actually do anything, but still.

  And something had to be said about the fact that Posey hadn’t told anyone what she’d seen. And she’d had plenty of opportunities, too. One of my teammates started giving me crap in Lit class today about being the mayor’s son, and she’d kept quiet. That would’ve been the perfect time to out me. To stick it to me for being such a jerk all the time. But she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “Yeah, I mean Posey.” Mac shook his head. “I don’t know how you stand it. She’s so… so…” He stopped talking and shuddered.

  “Come on, she’s not that bad.” I walked into the library and plopped my stuff down on the table. “She’s ju
st different.”

  “Different?” he croaked. “That’s an understatement.”

  Defensiveness flared in the corner of my mind, but I shook it off. Just because Posey hadn’t outed me in front of everyone didn’t mean I needed to act like her new best friend. It wasn’t up to me to be her social organizer. If Posey wanted to make friends around this place, she needed to start acting normal. And stop giving everyone the stink eye. And, I don’t know, maybe smile once in a while. Whatever.

  “Who’s a freak?”

  Maddie sauntered up behind us, wrapping her arm around my waist underneath the bottom hem of my hoodie. I waited for the familiar shot of heat her touch always gave me, but nothing happened. Weird.

  “Whatcha doing in here, Drew?” she asked in her little girl voice.

  When I looked down at Maddie, I could see a hint of pink lace between her boobs. Ah, yes. The pink and cream striped number. Good Lord, I loved that bra. “Getting ready for my tutoring session.” I dragged my eyes up to her face.

  Maddie smiled. She seemed pleased to have caught me checking out her chest. “You still haven’t managed to get out of it?”

  “Nope.” Shaking my head, I moved away from her grip. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Maddie to touch me. Believe me, I did. But for some reason, it felt weird. I mean, we weren’t together anymore. And if my dad found out we still pawed each other all the time, he’d lose his mind. And I’d had all the mind-losing I could take this week.

  “Ugh, come on.” Maddie rolled her eyes and tossed her hair. “This is so lame. What is that ugly bitch going to teach you that you can’t learn from Mr. Kingston?”

  “No kidding,” Mac agreed. “Skip this crap and make your parents hire a real tutor. Preferably a redhead with giant tits.”

  Maddie elbowed him. “You’re such a pig.”

  “Geez.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure Posey wasn’t there. “Can you two keep your voices down?”

  “Shut up.” Mac glanced at Mrs. T across the room, who still hummed to herself. “She didn’t even hear.”