STEPBROTHER: Bad Boy Blues (Taboo Romance)

by Wilde, Ora

  "The right time? When is that supposed to be? When I'm dead?"

  "Don't be so melodramatic, Betty," she said as she tried to dismiss my anger. "Darwin seems to be a good kid. He does have a rebellious streak but I’m certain it’s just a phase that young men go through. I'm sure the two of you will get along fine."

  Oh, she had no idea!

  “Where’s Uncle Charlie?” I asked her.

  “He postponed his trip until Thursday,” my mom answered. “He still has to finish some business in Boston.”

  “Then why is his son here this early?”

  “Darwin has to be here today. Adjusting to a new school is hard enough as it is. Arriving in the middle of the week would only make things more difficult.”

  “Well, he has his way of making things difficult for the people around him!” I exclaimed, failing to restrain my fury.

  As if on cue, the front door opened. Darwin went inside, carrying his helmet and nothing else.

  “Speaking of the devil,” I uttered. My mom gave me a dismissive look.

  Darwin proceeded to the kitchen where we were and gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t believe how homey he has become despite moving in just this morning. He grabbed a slice of freshly chopped carrot and put it in his mouth.

  “I assume you guys have met?” my mom asked without even looking at us.

  “Yup!” he answered as he gave me a wink.

  “Mom! This... boy...”

  “His name’s Darwin,” my mom interjected.

  “This Darwin... he just barged into my class and made a mockery of the education system!”

  “I did?” he asked, feigning disbelief and innocence.

  “Yes, you did!”

  “How?”

  “You were disrespectful! You were too brazen! You were too imprudent!”

  “Ooohhh... heavy words,” he uttered while chuckling. “I don’t even understand most of them.”

  “You have to treat the teacher with respect,” I told him, which I followed with a heavy sigh.

  “Teacher? Ohhh... you mean Ms. Assmuncher...”

  “Ms. Tesmacher! Her name’s Ms. Tesmacher!”

  All the while, my mom was giggling at our exchange.

  “Alright you two,” she interrupted, “there’s a couple of cold sandwiches in the fridge, in case you’re hungry. Better eat now rather than later, else you’d be too full for dinner.”

  “Sweet!” Darwin exclaimed as he immediately proceeded to the fridge to grab a sandwich.

  I just sulked on my seat, wallowing in the hopelessness of my predicament. I’m stuck with the jerk for the rest of the school year. High School’s supposed to be the best years of my life. It hasn’t been like that so far. I thought that my final year would be different, that I’d finally get to enjoy this phase of my life. With Darwin in the picture, that has become an impossible dream.

  “Guns N’ Roses?” he suddenly asked from behind me.

  I turned around and looked at him. His gaze was fixed on the sticker adorning the cover of my binder notebook... a cross with skull representations of each of the band’s members plastered on every corner of the crucifix.

  “Yeah,” I affirmed. “Why?”

  “Appetite for Destruction!” he exclaimed… almost… almost gleefully? Darwin-Too-Cool-For-School was actually at the verge of visible excitement?

  “What?”

  “Appetite for Destruction. Their first album. Your sticker. That’s the cover they used for the first release.”

  “Yeah, that’s...” I paused in astonishment. “How do you know that?”

  “The internet?” he replied with a sly grin. He placed a sandwich on my table. He didn’t get one for himself from the fridge. He got one for me.

  “Seriously. Do you even like that band? Their music?”

  “Glam metal all the way, Baby!”

  Oh my God! This boy who I hated so much actually made me smile.

  “Don’t tell me, don’t tell me...” he continued. “You hate Nirvana?”

  “That’s absolutely right!” I answered in utter amazement. “I don’t hate Nirvana per se, though... I hate their genre. I hate grunge!”

  “Yeah, grunge killed glam metal in the nineties.”

  “Hell yeah! Grunge is just too... angst-filled... too pseudo-poetic... more often than not, their lyrics don’t even make any freaking sense!”

  He just laughed at what I said.

  He had a very cute laugh.

  “How about Skid Row?” he asked.

  “Quicksand Jesus!”

  “Underrated song. It should’ve had more airtime.”

  “Poison?” I asked in return.

  “Every Rose Has Its Thorn? I don’t really like them. Their songs are too... shallow.”

  “Same here! They’re like the eighties version of boy-bands-faking-some-bad-attitude.”

  Again, he laughed, and I took a moment to cherish it.

  We talked and talked through the evening, about Axl Rose and Sebastian Bach and Mark Slaughter... and even Jon Bon Jovi, if you would believe that.

  And when we ran out of bands and songs to discuss, I discovered that we had a lot of other things that we could talk about.

  So I’ve come to know that my stepbrother Darwin was actually a sweet, caring... and even an intelligent young man. But somehow, he didn’t show that in school. Instead, he played the role of Mr. Mysterious... the rebel without a cause... the bad boy from the bad side of town who’s just too cool to be hated... the guy who girls loved to be with... the guy who boys loved to emulate.

  The following day, we crossed paths several times... at the hallway... at the dining hall... in class...

  In most of those instances, he was with his posse, Benson and Orton. They didn’t look like they were part of his clique, though. They looked more like his bodyguards, what with the way they followed him around. Orton - all 280 lbs. of him or so - was even carrying Darwin’s knapsack!

  In each of those times when our paths intersected, he didn’t even greet me... not with words, not with gestures, not even with a simple look. He just pretended that I was a stranger, someone who didn’t matter.

  Or was he even pretending?

  Maggie noticed it too. She approached me in my locker during the sixth period break.

  “The new family setup isn’t going well, huh?” she commented.

  “What made you say that?” I asked her, though deep inside I knew the answer.

  “Well, for starters, your brother dearie is giving you the cold treatment,” she replied as she looked around to see if some ears were prying on our conversation.

  “Stepbrother,” I sternly corrected her.

  “Labels, labels... they’re just meant to confuse people,” she dryly said. “Why is he treating you like you don’t exist? I saw you guys so many times today. He didn’t even bother to look at you. Not even when you broke the strap of your shoe and you had to drop your books on the floor to fix it. Not a single stare from him, Betty! You, on the other hand...”

  “What?” I asked incredulously, fearing what she might say next.

  “Oh come on, Betty. It’s more obvious than RuPaul’s sexuality! You were staring at him... several times! It was as if you wanted him to return your gaze.”

  “Oh shut up, Maggie! You know that’s not true!”

  “Duh! Betty... your eyes were practically begging him to smile at you, to wrap his arms around you, to kiss you good morning, good afternoon, good whatever!” She hugged her books and closed her eyes with a smile, mocking me with an imitation of what she thought I felt.

  “Maggie... you know he’s just weird. Super weird. It’s as simple as that. Everything’s fine at home. He’s fine at home. We talk, we laugh, we share stories. It’s just here, in school, when he becomes... I dunno... distant.”

  “Way too distant,” Maggie added. “So distant that he doesn’t even see you.” She chuckled after realizing, again, how peculiar the situation was.

  “
You couldn’t blame him, I suppose,” I said. “He wants to be the popular guy. It’s something he seems to enjoy so much. Being with me... being associated with me... well, his popularity will definitely take a hit.”

  “That’s too shallow, Betty! That’s so... sophomoric! It’s like something that high school kids do.”

  “Uhm, Maggie? We are in high school.”

  We both laughed at her humorous attempt and how slow I was to realize it, when suddenly, a neatly dressed guy with perfectly combed blonde hair approached us. It wasn’t until he was standing behind me that I noticed who he was: Emerson Perdew, scion to one of the richest families in our area.

  “‘Sup Maggie? Hi Betty!” he greeted us. Somehow, I felt that he acknowledged me with more enthusiasm that he did with Maggie.

  “Hey Emerson!” Maggie greeted her back.

  I just gave him a polite smile.

  “You lovely girls going to my party this Saturday?” he asked as his eyes were fixed on me.

  “Uhm... we’d want to,” Maggie answered while waving his hand to get Emerson’s attention. “But we’re not invited.”

  “It’s an open party,” he answered as he continued to look and smile at me. “Anyone from school can come.”

  “Well, count us in then!” Maggie exclaimed excitedly.

  “I can’t,” I told them. “My mom won’t allow me to be out that late.”

  A tinge of sadness formed on Emerson’s face.

  “How come?” he asked rather sullenly.

  “My mom worries too much about me, especially when I’m not at home by ten,” I explained.

  “Well... bring your brother along, then,” Emerson suggested as his smile returned.

  “Stepbrother,” I rectified. How come people always assume that we’re blood-related?

  “Stepbrother... nice,” he replied. “Well, he can be your chaperone. I’m sure both of you will enjoy the party. Besides, that event won’t be as fun without you.” He gave me a wink - A WINK - before he walked away, leaving me and Maggie dumbfounded by his cockiness.

  “What the fuck, Betty?” Maggie said, almost screaming. “Did Emerson Perdew just hit on you?”

  “Nah,” I answered as I tried to dismiss what she said, “he’s just being haughty, as always.”

  “Yeah, right! Ohhhh Betty, the party won’t be as fun without you, wink wink. What the hell was that about?”

  “I... dunno...”

  “Geez, Betty... for the past three years, you floated through High School without anyone ever noticing you. Now... since yesterday... everyone wants to get inside your skirt! Or those ridiculous-looking denim overalls, I mean.”

  “Maggie! It’s not like that at all! I told you, Emerson’s just being arrogant. Besides, he’s just one guy. One guy doesn’t represent the entire school.”

  “Two guys.”

  “Two?”

  “Yup... two guys made a pass at you.”

  “Who’s the other one?”

  “Darwin.”

  “Maggie, he didn’t even talk to me the whole day!”

  “Sometimes, silence means everything, Betty,” she said with a giggle.

  “So, Mom, can I go?” I asked her pleadingly that evening.

  “No, you can’t,” she answered as she continued to wipe the plates, preparing them for dinner.

  “But Mom, the whole school will be there,” I told her. I wanted to throw a tantrum to express how much I really wanted to attend Emerson’s party. But that was way out of my character. She knew that I was never brattish.

  “It’s too late in the evening,” she explained. “You know we have rules. Since you were small, we always had rules. No staying up late. No parties. You’re a girl, and your safety is the most important thing for me.”

  I was getting desperate.

  “But what if someone would accompany me?” I remarked, hoping to change her mind.

  She paused for a while and stared blankly outside through the kitchen window. She was deep in thought. There was hope.

  “Who’ll accompany you?” she finally asked. “Maggie? She’s a girl too. I don’t know how much safer you’ll be.”

  “No, no... a guy,” I reasoned out.

  “A guy? Do you have a boyfriend, Betty?”

  “No... of course not! I was thinking... maybe... Darwin could go with me.”

  “Darwin?” she asked in disbelief, visibly sniggering. “You’ll ask him to accompany you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good luck with that!” She wasn’t able to restrain her laughter anymore as she started to cackle.

  “Does that mean that I can go, Mom? If I’m able to convince Darwin to come with me?”

  “Sure,” she answered, still chortling.

  I left her at the kitchen and went to the living room. I sat down on the couch and analyzed the situation. Darwin was upstairs, resting in his room. All I had to do was knock, ask him to go to Emerson’s party with me, beg him if necessary, and everything will be good.

  However, knowing how inconsistent his behavior was caused some concerns.

  If he was as kind and warmhearted as he was last night, then there was a good chance that I would be able to convince him to come. If he was as conceited and self-absorbed as he was two days ago, things will be a little more difficult, but there was still a chance that he’d say yes. But if he was as strange and uncivil as he was earlier in school, then my chances of attending Emerson’s party would be nil.

  There was only one way to find out.

  I took a deep breath, stood up, and proceeded to go upstairs. Before I could even reach his room, however, I heard a very unusual sound.

  Darwin was singing.

  Way out of tune at that!

  Every rose has its thorn

  Just like every night has its dawn

  Just like every cowboys sings his sad, sad song

  Every rose has its thorn

  What the hell? I thought he hated that song!

  I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing hysterically. He was such a bad singer... singing the most banal song that I know!

  I felt a tinge of nervousness, however, when a tingle crawled up my spine. I didn’t realize the sensation, but I did know that Darwin’s attempt at crooning was rather... cute.

  Was it fascination? Was it admiration? Or was it fear… fear of being enchanted by someone who is absolutely untouchable?

  I didn’t want to dwell on such thoughts, so I immediately knocked on his door.

  I heard him curse before a loud thud echoed in his room. Did he fall from his bed? I heard his heavy footsteps running towards the door. He opened it, and he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him, shirtless, probably naked, his body garbed by a mere towel... a very skimpy towel...

  His body was glistening with sweat, thanks to the humid California weather in September. Drops of his perspiration rolled from his strong neck towards his rock solid chest, downwards to his washboard abs, and further towards the brim of his white towel. I swallowed some air in awe at the physical specimen before me.

  “You need anything?” he asked quizzically.

  I realized that my eyes were looking down on his body. At the sound of his voice, my head quickly tilted up towards his eyes. He was looking at me intently, with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Uhm...” I was at a loss for words.

  “How long have you been there?” he questioned, a hint of anxiety in his tone.

  An opening!

  “Long enough to have heard you sing that ridiculous song!” I exclaimed.

  He gulped as his eyes widened. He was like a kid whose hand was caught inside the cookie jar.

  “Yeah, about that,” he started, “I was just... it was just... it was just an LSS thing.”

  “An LSS thing?” I questioned him suspiciously as I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I dunno why, but that song’s been playing in my head since we talked about it last night.”

 
“I see,” I said, as I began to titter.