“You should just let her take care of herself man!” Dalton argues as he is getting out of the truck. “She is just going to fuck with your head and make you moody for the next two months.” They try to talk me into staying instead of going to Janice’s house, but I need to check in on her.
“I’m always moody Dalton that has nothing to do with Janice. You know I have to take care of her.” I say as I fiddle with the AC nobs.
“Your dad going to prison is not your fault, stop trying to fix his mistakes and start living your life.” Is the only thing I hear from K.J as he walks off in the direction of the house.
“Just do a quick check and come back here tonight.” Dalton pleads with me. I nod my head in understanding as he shuts the passenger door so I can be on my way.
I arrive at my childhood home just after midnight. The neighborhood is still run down. The white paint is chipping off the siding and the porch looks about ready to break at any moment. Strolling up the path I survey my area to make sure nothing suspicious is going on. I do not bother knocking on the door, she won’t answer. She is probably passed out, in her own piss again.
Turning the knob and pushing the door open, I prepare my nose for the smell that is sure enough to follow. I come here at least once a week to check in on my mother and clean for her. She has not been the best mother but there were times when she was not stoned that she tried hard to be a good one. My dad was never in the picture. My mom says Marcus Johnathan is my real father and for lack of not giving a shit, I believe her. I did have some family from his side that tried to care but eventually gave up as well.
Walking through the living room, I kick a path through all the garbage lining the floor. There are pizza boxes stacked in random places and beer cans thrown throughout the house. The old brown sofa has plastic bags and broken pipes sticking to the cushions. Peeking into the kitchen, I see there are dirty dishes stacked up all over the tarnished blue counter tops. Roaches crawl in and out of the random plates and bowls trying to get the last bit of food that is stuck to their surface. I walk into the bedroom by the unmade bed, with no sheets on the stained mattress. I see my mother on the floor of her bathroom through the doorframe. She must hear me coming because she peeks up at me with her half closed eyes barely keeping them open.
“Jasper is that you.” Janice manages to slur out. “Yeah mom I’m here to check in on you.”
“I’m not a fucking child you have to check in on!” she raises her voice while trying to stand on wobbly legs.
I lean down to help her. Pulling her arm around my neck I stand her up and we make or way to the bed. “You know if your grandfather would have let me abort you, my life would be different.” Her words have no effect on me, I have heard this all before.
She pulls her arm from my shoulder and uses the bed to support her weight, her arms hanging loosely by her side. My mother used to be a beautiful woman. Years of drug abuse have turned her once lively hazel eyes into endless pits of suffering. She is maybe ninety-eight pounds, her cheeks are sunken in and her once beautiful blonde hair is now dead sticking to her neck and face.
“You know Mother; maybe if you left Daniel and went to rehab, you could have a better life.” I say with venom in my voice trying to get my point across.
Having heard the hate in my voice she raises her hand preparing to slap me but her movements are slow and sluggish. She only manages to catch my cheek with her nail scathing me before I can move out of the way. That is my breaking point. I need to get out of here before I let my anger get the best of me. I leave her there staring at my back as I walk out of the shithole I called a home and go to the one place I can breathe easier.
The water is getting cold so I turn off the shower and step out of the stall. I always leave an extra pair of clothes in my locker for occasions like this. I change quickly and head out of the back door to try avoiding Coach Roy.
He is leaning against the door with a knowing smile on his. He is an older man with grey hair. You can tell he is a Florida native from the damage the sun has done to his skin over the years. His hands are rough from working his whole life but in his eyes is a wisdom that most people do not have.
“Thought you could slip out without saying anything?” He says as he stands up to his full 6-foot height crossing his arms at his chest. Not feeling in the mood to chat I just shrug my shoulders and try to get by him.
“I’m going to take the hint and let you have your space. Just remember my office door is open to you anytime son”. He steps to the side and allows me to pass by.
The ride back to Dalton’s feels longer than normal. I have worn my body out trying to slow my mind down in hopes I can get some sleep tonight. Dalton and K.J should be passed out by time I arrive home, allowing me to go straight to bed instead of replaying tonight’s events for them.
Chapter 3
Candice
He stands there staring at me, as if he is trying to figure out the lonely girl hiding in the shadows. I pull my hood back up with shaky hands and try to melt into the wall. Maybe he will get the hint and leave me the same way he found me- alone. There is something in those beautiful eyes letting me know he understands. He tries to take a step toward me but my sudden gasp stops him. If he touches me, I’m sure to have a full blown anxiety attack. I usually don’t allow strange people to get this close to me, avoidance is the key. I let my guard down, and now I may have to pay the price.
He tilts his head slightly, his hair falling more into his eyes, as he leans against the opposite building studying me. Thankfully he figures out not to get too close, and without warning, spins around and exits through the other opening at the back of the buildings.
After I have completely calmed down, I notice that none of the students are outside anymore. This must mean I’m late for first period English. Walking back up to the path that leads to the main door I nearly trip over a large rock but manage to secure my balance. Taking the few steps up to the door, I can see the mascot logo for Gatesville High. The murky green alligator with his head turned toward my direction, looking evil. He has his giant mouth opened, pointy teeth just waiting for something to latch onto, and his yellow eyes are gleaming with menace. A chill goes down my spine making me shiver as I finally pull the door out and take my first step into the school.
I enter into a space that is closed off with glass walls, looking around I notice a sign pointing at a button “Press here.” I step to my right and press the button, instantly a young woman’s voice rings out. “What can I do for you?”
“Ummm” …. “I’m the new student that transferred from Texas, Candice Price.”
I guess she was verifying my story because I waited a minute before I heard the click of the doors unlocking. Knowing crazy lunatics will have to check in with this chipper voice in a box does nothing to settle my increasing nerves.
My Aunt Stacy and I picked up my schedule last week, anticipating my reaction of being at a new school surrounded by strangers. The principle Mr. Duncan, an African American short guy, with a receding hair line and a look of defeat on his face gave us a tour and showed me where all my classes were. He also gave me the books I would need and directed me to the locker I would use this year.
Walking into English the entire class all swing their heads around to catch the brave soul willing to be tardy for the first class of the year. I just shrink further into my hoodie and walk to the desk in the back with my name on it. I do notice my desk is the only one with a name, almost as if they knew I would not be able to set in the front row and have people staring at my back. How much did my Aunt Stacy tell these people?
Taking my seat, I set my book on the desk and try to stay hidden away in my corner. For lack of anything better to do I study my surroundings, and the back of heads, to the nameless kids I will avoid. The girl in front of me has twisted frizzy brown hair that absolutely needs a comb ran through it. Her choice of clothing is interesting to say the least. Who would have known black army boots went so well with den
im faded skinny jeans, and a tie-dye tank top. To each his own. I am the one wearing a hoodie in August after all.
The rest of my classes go the same way, me sitting in the back, trying to keep my anxiety at a manageable level. I hear the bell ring so I grab my history book, and move to stand when everyone else has left the room. It is the dreaded lunch period I have been contemplating skipping all day. I could just go back to the spot I deem as mine in between the school and gym.
Entering the cafeteria, I quickly survey the best route to take to the most secluded spot. Years of avoiding people and staying hidden come in handy because I have found the perfect spot in no time. I tuck my hands in my hoodie pocket and scurry as fast as I can to my new safe haven.
Sitting down sideways on the bench with my back to the wall and my feet resting in front of me, I take out the IPhone that was a gift from my Aunt, along with the earphones from my pocket and prepare to listen to my playlist. Music has always been my way to escape the world and all its realities.
Half way through “Crawling in My Skin”, I see three shadows approaching the bench I am on. Trying to peer through the strands of hair covering my face, I see one pair of familiar eyes. I remove the earphones because right now seems like a stupid time not to have all my senses.
The shortest of the three with the curly black hair clears his throat, “Well boys what do we have here?” He quirks up one eyebrow, keeping eye contact with me but talking to his friends.
“I don’t recall inviting a new member to join our group.”
I blink trying to make sense of what he just said. Is this a joke, something they do to all the new kids? Why would these three come over here to bother me? The cocky boy sits his tray down on the table about three feet from me while laughing out an apology,
“I’m sorry, I was just messing with you! Everyone knows this table in the corner is for us, and you’re the only one to ever dare sit here, besides us.” He reaches his hand out to me “I’m Dalton, also known as Mr. Magnificent!”
Not prepared for him to sit down, my body freezes with fear. He must notice because he puts his hands up as if to tell me he means no harm. The boy from this morning steps up next to Dalton “Leave her alone.” That voice! It is laced with pleasure, and the slightest promise of pain. Deep and commanding. If I were Dalton, I would listen.
I do not want to be here anymore, but to leave I would have to squeeze between them and the wall that is four feet from the bench. My options are limited; I can run by them after the scary one takes his seat, or I can look like an Olympic hurdler and jump this table. I opt for a third option, putting my earphones back in and pretend not to be a freak today.
I am reaching for my earphones that are hanging out of my hoodie now, when Dalton looks over at me, “You never told me your name, Batgirl.” Smiling as if he just said the cleverest thing ever he waits for my response.
“Candice Price.” I whisper back just loud enough to be heard.
“Knock Knock,” He asks suddenly.
“Who’s there?” I reply, automatically.
” Candice.”
“Candice who?”
“Can dice be love I’m feeling right now?”
He is giving me his full on panty- melting smile which would probably work if I was anyone else. I pretend to be in deep thought, and eventually say, “Love is like peeing yourself, everyone around you can see it, but only you feel the warmth.”
He is still looking at me when I add, “I see nothing, and I’m not feeling warm at all.” I can’t help the small smile of victory because I know I just won this round, but I have a gut feeling there will be many more.
All of them look at each other and laugh, except the blonde-haired boy who just sat down, the smirk on his face is the only thing letting me know he heard our exchange. They begin to eat, letting me know the banter is over so I put my left earphone in, and just as I am about to put the right one in, I hear Dalton call my hideaway companion Jasper. That must be his name. Repeating it in my head, I find the name fits him, unique and strong. Did I just call him MY hideaway companion? I cannot think like that. My only companions are my secrets and memories that wait to visit me in my dreams.
I have study hall after lunch and lucky for me the room is two doors down from the cafeteria. I can let everyone clear out before me and avoid the masses, but still make it to class on time. To my surprise, I am not the only one with that thought. I’m still sitting at the table when I notice Jasper and his scary friend are still in the cafeteria leaning up against the far left wall by the vending machines. As soon as the majority of people have cleared out, they start walking to the doors to leave. Jasper is looking at me, making me feel as if he can see what no one else can. I shrink back into my hoodie to hide from his stare.
Walking to my assigned seat in Study Hall I notice Jasper sitting four rows down in the other corner desk. Ignoring his casual glances my way; I listen to what the teacher is saying as everyone takes his or her seat.
“I’m Mr. Montgomery, and this is Study Hall.”
Standing behind his desk, he continues, “You will work together in groups of two to study, and I am nice enough to let you choose your partner. There are only twenty-nine of you so there will be one group of three.”
He takes his seat at his desk in the front of the room. I do not miss the Irish accent, his “three” sounding like tree, and “this” sounding like dis.
Everyone starts to pair off, when I see Jasper walk up to the desk, and lean over to talk to Mr. Montgomery. There is not much difference in their size but Jasper is slightly bigger. Mr. Montgomery has red hair styled nicely, with a goatee, and green eyes. He is attractive for his age and seems to be easy going, currently nodding his head at something Jasper is saying. Just then, a girl with wild hair scoots her desk next to mine, and starts talking as if we are old friends.
“If you think he’s hot you should see his friend K.J.” She says inclining her head toward Jasper.
“He is super tall, with blonde hair, and dangerous black eyes that reminds me of the studs I read about in my books full of sex and violence.” She must be talking about the scary one that sat at the end of the table during lunch.
“His other friend Dalton is cute, if you go for the player, I wanna roll around with you in the sheets, type of boy. Not my cup of tea, but you look like you might need a good roll!” She says this raising her eyebrows up and down.
“The names Elizabeth Water, my friends call me Izzy.” I take the hand she shoves in my face and give it an easy shake, trying not to recoil from the unwanted contact.
“Candice Price.” That is all I can say. This girl has just rendered me speechless and I know I have the deer in the headlights look. She has moved her desk across from mine now; her wild curly brown hair is going in different directions and bouncing with her jerky movements. She has soft cheekbones with a jaw line that is slightly stronger than most girls’. It makes her look fierce. Her golden brown eyes look at me, trying to keep me focused on our conversation.
“Glad to see you won’t be late for every class.” Bringing up my tardiness, I realize she is the girl that needs a comb from my English class. I should have recognized her with the outfit she has on, but she has completely invaded my space and I am finding it hard to concentrate.
“Ummm, hellloooo, is anyone home?” She starts waving her hand in my face now trying to get my attention.
“Yeah, sorry.” I finally respond.
“No sweat chicka. Have you noticed Jasper keeps looking over here? I’ve been going to this school since freshman year, I know it’s not me he is looking at. Maybe you should pull your hair out of your face and give him a little wave.”
Trying to reach for my hair, she leans over the desk, “NO!” I reply quickly so she does not touch me. Leaning further back in my seat, I quickly lie. “I have a huge pimple on my forehead.” She debates this to herself for a minute and finally lets it go.
“Jasper has never really taken notice to any gir
ls at our school, maybe you’ll be the first one. Some speculate he is either gay or just sleeps with all the out of town groupies he has.”
Hmmm, why would he have groupies? The gay thing does not ring true to me but what do I care. She must see the question on my face because her next sentence answers it.
“He is a MMA fighter. He trains out of Roy’s Gym with Dalton and K.J. He has his first professional fight for the AFC coming up in November.” She then changes topic quickly and asks, “Did you say where you’re from?”
Without thinking I reply, “Texas.” I am no longer listening to her. I cannot believe Jasper is a fighter. He hits people, makes them bleed, and obviously enjoys doing it if he has decided to go pro. I need to avoid him and stay out of his path. I know first-hand people who enjoy causing others pain, always seeking out the weaker targets. Invisible is what I need to become to him.
Chapter 4
Jasper “The Finisher” Johnathan
The last bell rings just as I am walking out of the school. My last class is athletics and the coach lets me leave five minutes before everyone else. Most of the faculty here have known me for years, so they know I’ll do what I want, with or without their permission. I am a latchkey kid; I make my own rules. The new study hall teacher, Mr. Irish Prick, thought I would collaborate with someone. I had to make sure he knew that was not how I work. It took a few choice words but he eventually got my point.
Starting my truck, the music blares from the speakers. I crank it up further and start the twenty-minute drive to Roy’s Gym. Dalton and K.J. will meet me there. They do not come to the early workouts like I do. I work harder because I have more to prove.
All my life I was made to believe I was the pathetic loser that Janice and all her shit sorry boyfriends took pity on. I will show them all after my debut fight against Liam Kyler, also known as “The Lunatic.” He and I are equally matched up, same height and weight, but I have a two-inch reach on him and in this game, you take what you can get. We both started out in the underground ring at sixteen. I was trying to make some extra money, hoping to get Janice into a rehab. After that first win, I was hooked. MMA has changed my life. It allows me to take my anger out on a willing victim stupid enough to step into my world. That octagon is my life; I need to fight to breath.
Tearing Away (Fatally Flawed Book 1) Page 2
