Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “A schoolboys’ brawl.”

  “Paul said—”

  I cut her off, “You know what I think about Paul’s opinion.”

  She glanced at the man in question. He was still watching us, his gaze shamelessly moving between the two of us as though he was trying to read our lips, without a doubt knowing we hadn’t stopped talking about him. Beverly’s chocolate-coloured eyes saddened, her wistful look telling me she still wanted Paul, but he was back with his ex-wife, Beverly forever friend-zoned.

  She returned her attention to me. “Regardless of whether you and Paul disagree, Dante was arrested. And I’m also sure there are many talented people in jail, they just have other things outweighing it.”

  I sighed. “I still can’t see him murdering that woman. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Well, I hope you’re correct. I honestly do, because I do feel sorry for—”

  A loud holler cut her off, gate-crashing our conversation. A female scream followed, emanating from the corridor. All the teachers rushed for the door. I bolted for it too, weaving my way through everyone, my small size helping for once.

  I exited the staffroom, finding the corridor brimming with students, a sea of red, black, and grey uniforms blocking my view. Wanting to know what the commotion was about, I nudged past them, emerging onto a scene that left me speechless. The fat gang member, who’d dropped Dante off to his tutorial, was struggling with Dante’s father, trying to hold him back as Mr. Rata yelled abuse at Helen Farris. The terrified-looking maths teacher rushed for the school office as the principal emerged from it. She bolted behind him, using him as a human shield.

  Principal Sao’s gaze shot to Dante’s father. “Leave now before I call the police!”

  “Not until I see justice!” Mr. Rata hollered back.

  “For what?”

  Mr. Rata pointed a finger at Helen, who was peeking out from behind the principal, her dyed-blonde hair looking bright against his dark pinstriped suit. “For that paedophile abusing my bo—”

  “I did nothing to Dante!” Helen cut him off.

  Mr. Rata’s tattooed face twisted with fury. “Bullshit! You kicked him outta class cos he called you out on eye-fuckin’ him. And what happens? He gets arrested by the cops while you get away with it!”

  “Like hell!” came from behind me. The next second, Paul barrelled past me, almost knocking me over. “Helen wouldnae touch yer delinquent son!” he yelled, his Scottish accent sounding thicker than normal. “No only is he a liar, he’s a murderer.”

  Dante’s father’s glare snapped to Paul. “He killed no one! The cops let him go cos he’s been proved innocent.”

  “He’s still a delinquent, dirtying a good woman’s name in vengeance.”

  “This is not vengeance! He didn’t even want me knowing what that paedo did to him,” Mr. Rata said, pointing at Helen again. “If his best friend didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have known.”

  “Jasper?”

  “Yes.”

  “Another hooligan,” Paul practically spat out.

  The fat gang member let go of Mr. Rata. “Be careful what you say ’bout my son!”

  Paul sneered at Jasper’s father. “Then tell him to stop spreading lies aboot ma woman.”

  “They’re not lies!” Mr. Rata cut back in. “I’ve had three other people verify what Jasper said.”

  “Then where are they?” Paul held his arms out wide as though Mr. Rata had made them up. “’Cause all I see are two criminals and their devil spawn spouting off a load of garbage aboot a good lass.”

  “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!”

  “I dare ye to.” Paul indicated for Mr. Rata to come at him. “Go on, hit me like ye did in ma home. Let everyone see what the lowlife, scum ye are. Like yer psychotic son.”

  The next second all hell broke loose. I couldn’t tell who went for who first, the two men appearing to move at the same time, but Paul threw the first punch, his fist barrelling towards Dante’s father. Mr. Rata blocked it with an arm and rammed into Paul, sending him crashing into a row of lockers. The students standing nearby shot back, scrambling to get out of the way.

  Paul ducked as Dante’s father unleashed a punch. Mr. Rata’s fist smashed into the locker behind Paul, denting its panel badly. Jasper’s father grabbed Mr. Rata from behind, yanking him away from Paul, yelling at him to stop. Paul swung out at Dante’s father again, connecting with his face. Blood sprayed from Mr. Rata’s mouth, but instead of backing off, he broke free from Jasper’s father and launched himself at Paul, head-butting him, sending Paul crashing to the floor.

  Helen and Beverly screamed. Beverly pushed past me to get to Paul, while Helen stepped out from behind the principal, who was on his phone, probably calling the police. She looked like she wanted to rush over too, but remained where she was, her fear of Dante’s father no doubt holding her back.

  Mr. Rata went to kick Paul, but lowered his foot as Beverly scrambled over her colleague, protecting him with her body. He sneered down at Paul, then turned to face Helen, his sneer growing, distorting his features.

  He spat on the floor, blood and saliva hitting it. “You know what you did, bitch, and now everyone else does too.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she sobbed. “Jasper’s lying. He hates me for failing him.”

  Mr. Rata narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you deaf? Three other people verified what he said.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Then why did—” He ticked three names off his finger, Phelia one of them. “—back up Jasper? Not only that, my other son said you treated him the same way as his brother.”

  She jerked her head back, looking shocked. “Ash?”

  He took a step closer to her, his body practically vibrating with anger. “You thought you’d get away with abusing him, didn’t cha? That no one would find out. Well, guess what?” He indicated to the crowd of students and teachers watching. “Everyone knows now.”

  Helen clenched her hands. “I would never hurt Ash!”

  “Bullshit! And you’re gonna pay for it!” he yelled, stalking towards her.

  Principal Sao stepped in front of Helen, holding his phone out as though it was a weapon. “Back off! The police are on their way.”

  Mr. Rata stopped in front of him. “Good. I’ll be happy to talk to them all about what your employee did to my boys.”

  Principal Sao frowned. “Will your sons be laying complaints?”

  “I’ll make damn sure they will, while Phelia, Jasper, and Ash’s partner have all agreed to make statements.”

  Principal Sao’s eyes widened. “Tiana Lilu?”

  “Yes.”

  Principal Sao glanced back at Helen, his expression surprised, the name obviously having an effect on what he thought.

  “I didn’t do it,” Helen said, her voice almost pleading for him to believe her.

  The principal looked back at Dante’s father. “I’m not taking this accusation lightly. If Helen did what you say she did, action will be taken.”

  “You bet it will.”

  Principal Sao’s face hardened. “By the police, not you.”

  Dante’s father sneered at him, giving the impression the principal’s words held no sway.

  “I’m innocent!” Helen said loudly.

  Principal Sao indicated to the door on his left. “Go to my office, Helen.”

  “But it’s all lies!”

  “Get to my office!” he barked, finally snapping.

  She burst out crying and ran for the doorway, disappearing from sight.

  Principal Sao swept his gaze over the corridor, obviously taking in the crowd still watching them. “Move along!” he said loudly. “This is not a circus.”

  Some of the teachers from the lunchroom came forward, herding the students away from the scene. I remained where I was, standing a few feet away from Beverly, who was busy wiping the blood off Paul’s forehead with a handkerchief. The man appeared to be stunned, suggesting he’d sus
tained a mild concussion from the head-butt.

  He pushed up, wobbling on his feet. “Ye cannae take these mongrels’ words over Helen’s,” he said, brushing Beverly’s hands away as she tried to steady him.

  Principal Sao turned his attention to Paul, his expression hardening further. “If I were you, I’d walk away now, because, Paul, you’re suspended until further notice.”

  Paul’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Fighting on school grounds—”

  “He attacked me.”

  “You both are equally to blame. Not only that, you encouraged Mr. Rata to attack you as well as throwing the first punch.”

  Paul blinked, clearly looking stunned. “But that mongrel accused Helen of—”

  “Inappropriate behaviour towards his sons, which will be investigated, regardless of what you think. So, please leave.”

  “I’m staying to support Helen.”

  “I need to talk to her alone.”

  “She’s my partner.”

  “I understand that, but you still need to leave.”

  “But—”

  “If you do not leave now, I will have you escorted off the premises. Unless you wish to wait for the police out front, but with the way you’re swaying, I would highly recommend that Beverly takes you straight to the hospital to get your head checked out.”

  Paul opened his mouth, then closed it, his expression almost lost.

  Beverly took hold of his arm. “Come on, Paul. I’ll help you.”

  Appearing dazed, he allowed her to guide him down the corridor, his gait still wobbly, the principal probably right to be concerned for his health.

  Principal Sao refocused on Dante’s father. “If you wish to wait for the police, do so outside. This is a school, not a sparring cage.”

  Mr. Rata sneered at him. “I’ll be more than happy to wait for them.” He spun on his heel and headed for his son. “C’mon, boy, you’re talkin’ to the coppers again whether you like it or not.”

  Dante took a step back, his expression going from stunned to furious in a second. He yelled something at his father in Maori, then took off, pushing a student out of his way in his hurry to escape. Phelia sprinted after him, the girl surprisingly quick on her feet. I watched the two of them disappear through the exit, an overwhelming sense of guilt swamping me.

  My gaze shifted to the principal’s office, knowing I should be in there with Helen, what I’d done just as bad, if not worse.

  6

  Dante

  I took another swig of the whiskey Phelia had given me, glaring at nothing in particular, my mind still on school.

  On the scene that my dad had created.

  Or more accurately, what Jasper had. He was supposed to be my best friend, but lately I was wondering whether he was a friend at all. I gulped down some more whiskey, imagining punching him in the face. Multiple times. He continued to fuck things up for me, thinking he always knew best, when everything he did turned to shit. Plus, Ms. Farris was probably right about him getting back at her, because he did hate her for failing him the previous year. And he knew my dad would go after her if he opened his big fat mouth.

  Phelia sat down next to me on her floral couch. She’d caught up with me outside of school, convincing me to go to her house, because if I went home, I’d probably end up yelling at my dad again.

  “Honestly, you shouldn’t feel bad,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder. “Ms. Farris is a pervy bitch. She deserved what she got.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “Yes, she did. She perved on you constantly. Everyone noticed it.”

  I lowered the bottle, wondering whether people had noticed Mrs. Hatton perv on me too. The thought scared me.

  Phelia continued, “Not to forget, she also touched your brother.”

  “On the shoulder, not his arse or cock.”

  “She still touched him, and I’ve seen her touch you too.”

  “You can’t arrest someone for touching a damn shoulder. If you could, you’d be done for it.”

  She jerked her head off my shoulder. “I’m allowed to do it, she’s not!”

  I rolled my eyes, not remembering giving her permission to do jack shit, plus she’d done a whole lot more than touch my shoulder. At the beginning of the year, I’d gate-crashed a party, getting so drunk I had to find a room to rest up in. Next thing, I woke to find Phelia sucking on my cock like it was her own personal lollipop.

  Phelia continued, “She never did that to anyone else in the class. Jasper wuz right to tell your dad.”

  “Yet he ignores what his auntie does!”

  She jerked back. “What?”

  I took another swig of whiskey, the liquid loosening my tongue, making me not care so much about what I said. No one listened anyway. They only heard what they wanted. Like Jasper. I’d complained about his auntie eye-fucking me, but did he believe me? Fuck no. I wondered what he would think if he knew she’d blackmailed me into fucking her.

  “What did’ja mean ’bout Jasper’s auntie?” Phelia asked.

  I grimaced at the image of Ngaire in my head. No, I could see her in front of me. She was dressed in her Daisy Dukes, the tiny shorts making her legs look like coffee-stained tooth picks. While her chest was bare, the woman’s tits barely a handful. She indicated for me to come closer.

  I shrank down into the couch, not willing to go anywhere near her again. “I hate you,” I spat. “I fuckin’ hate you.”

  “What?” Phelia gasped.

  “Not you. Her.” I pointed at Ngaire, her smug face reminding me of the day she’d raped me. I’d pushed her away at first, not wanting anything to do with the disgusting bitch, but had given in when she’d threatened to tell my dad about my drug dealing gig, which would’ve ended in my dad bashing my supplier, otherwise known as my cousin.

  Phelia turned to look at what I was pointing to. “There’s no one there, Dante.”

  I shook my head, seeing Ngaire clear as day. The sunlight from the opening in the curtains was creating a partial halo around the evil bitch, making her dusky skin glow.

  Ngaire’s lips quirked up. “Admit it, baby boy, you enjoyed every bit of what we did. After all, you did come.”

  I shook my head, not having enjoyed any of it, and if I hadn’t thought about Mrs. Hatton to get through it, I wouldn’t have gotten hard, let alone come.

  “You did like it,” Ngaire continued. “And I loved riding you.”

  Bile rose up at the memory. I took another swig of whiskey, washing my disgust down, drowning it with the biting liquid.

  “Dante, I think you’ve had enough,” Phelia said, grabbing the bottle.

  I jerked it away from her. “No, I need it.”

  “You don’t need whiskey, and you have had enough,” she said, her voice now concerned.

  Ignoring her, I guzzled more, needing the whiskey to wash away my past, my present, my everything. Phelia tried to pull the bottle away from my lips, spilling whiskey down my front in the process, the liquid wetting my skin and soaking into my shirt. But more went into my mouth—where it belonged.

  “Dante! Give me that!”

  I’d heard those words before.

  But from somebody else.

  I lowered the bottle, blinking in surprise at the sight of Mrs. Hatton, not sure whether my eyes were deceiving me. Because she couldn’t be here. She’d been at school, watching the maths teacher take the fall for something she probably should’ve. But again, I didn’t want her to get into trouble. Even though she’d hurt me, I couldn’t handle it if she went through what Ms. Farris had. Fuck! Ms. Farris had been bawling her eyes out, and all because of me. No, it was because of Jasper. The fucking bastard had taken things out of my hands yet again, deciding what was best for me, not giving a shit that I didn’t agree with him. He couldn’t get it into his thick skull that I didn’t think the same way he did, that I had my own thoughts, my own way of doing things. But Jasper always thought he knew better, even though he fucking knew not
hing.

  Mrs. Hatton brushed my fringe back, her fingertips lingering on my forehead. “Why do you drink so much, Dante?”

  “To forget.”

  Her hand wandered down to my cheek. “To forget what?”

  I didn’t reply, just stared at her face, drinking in her features. High cheekbones, gorgeous steel-grey eyes, a mouth I wanted to lose myself in, and all surrounded by honey-blonde hair.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I said, lifting a hand to touch her hair. But instead of feeling smooth waves, it felt coarse, my hand registering something entirely different from my eyes.

  Mrs. Hatton smiled at me, but then shook her head, her concern breaking through her sunny expression. “Don’t change the subject, Dante. Please tell me why you drink so much.”

  I let go of her hair. “I already told’ja.”

  “You didn’t say what you wanted to forget.”

  “Things like today. What people have done to me.”

  “What people?”

  “My stepfather, Jasper’s aunt—”

  “What did Jasper’s auntie do?”

  “The same as my stepfather.”

  She blinked, appearing confused. “She beat you up?”

  I didn’t reply, no one knowing what had happened just over two years ago. And I didn’t want them to either. Plus, it might have been a hallucination. I’d been sick at the time, with a high fever. My stepfather had offered to stay home to look after me, my family having planned on visiting my grandparents. I’d been whining and complaining, feeling really sick. He’d given me alcohol to shut me up. Maybe the alcohol and the fever combined had fucked with my head, making me think it had all happened when it had been nothing but a hallucination ... or a dream, a fucked up nightmare.

  But it had felt real.

  And he’d done something similar to Ash later that year. Something I could’ve stopped if I’d told my mum. She would also still be alive if I had.

  “No!” I threw the bottle across the lounge. “It didn’t happen!” The bottle bounced a couple of times, settling on its side, no whiskey left to spill out.