by Nicole Thorn
“Why are you parked in front of my house?” Manny asked.
“That’s not any of your business.”
“I think it is,” Manny said. “If you don’t move along, I’ll be forced to call the cops.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared down at him. He didn’t seem impressed at first but then looked worried after a few seconds.
“Look, kid. I work for your parents. I’m just waiting for them to show up, okay?”
“What do you do for my parents?” Manny asked.
“That’s none of your business. Now fuck off. Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
I watched as Manny’s shoulders slumped, and irritation prickled. I focused on the man’s head, and shoved power into him. Not enough to kill him but enough to hurt him. His eyes widened as all the blood vessels in them popped. They turned bloodshot, and he curled forward, with his arms over his head. He didn’t scream but groaned with the kind of quiet pain that came from massive, concussion caused headaches.
“Answer her,” I said. “And I’ll fix you up again.”
Manny looked over her shoulder at me. I worried that she would be afraid but she didn’t seem scared.
The man spoke fast. “Okay, okay. It’s in the trunk. Take a fucking look for yourself but stop this. Oh god, stop…” He fumbled with his keys for a few seconds before managing to pop the trunk of his car open. Manny went to see what was in the back but I stayed with him. In case he decided that his point would be better made with fists.
A few seconds later, Manny said, “Becket. Could you come here please?”
I did as she asked, and peered into the trunk with her. There were boxes, and boxes of gems in the trunk of his car. Manny had opened three of them, and I could sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds. She stared up at me with big eyes. “I don’t know what my parents are doing but can you please not tell anyone about this?”
I nodded. “I won’t.”
“Thank you.” She slammed the trunk closed, and went over to speak with the guy again. “Hey, where did you get all of that stuff?” she asked.
The man lifted his head, his bloody eyes not quite able to focus on her. “Your parents send me to pick things up. I don’t ask questions, okay?”
She frowned but nodded. “Becket. You can fix him now.”
I removed the pressure on his brain, and the man groaned, and laid down along the seats. He stared at the roof of his car like it was the only thing he could focus on. I leaned in. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell her parents about any of this. It would upset me.”
The man stared at me with fear. I had grown used to seeing such things, so it didn’t bother me. I removed myself from the car, and looked at Manny. “We should probably head to school now.”
She nodded her agreement.
We started walking but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched us. I turned around but the man hadn’t sat back up, and there was no one else on the street.
Chapter Eight
Venom
Manny
Something felt off with Becket as we walked together. Not about him but his skin. Some little thing that was off that I couldn’t place. I didn’t ask because he didn’t offer to tell me.
He didn’t say anything about the fact I wore his sweater again. I worried that he would think I was weird but he probably wasn’t capable of thinking that kind of thing about anyone. I knew I would have to wash it and give it back to him because that was the normal thing to do.
Instead of fretting about Becket’s thoughts on me in his clothes, I lent my mind to wondering what my parents were up to. All those gems in the trunk... Of course, they didn’t let me know what was going on in the shop but they never hid it from me either. It was just business. Business that I wasn’t a part of, and wouldn’t be for a while. Eventually, I would work in one of the stores but for now, I didn’t need to know anything. That seemed like an untruth, now that something fishy was happening. Not that I could ask Mom or Dad about it.
Once we got to the school, I headed to class with Becket, and took the seat beside him. I cared not that it wasn’t my seat because he deserved to have someone beside him that wanted to be there. And I really fucking wanted to be there.
Mrs. Flannigan walked into the room, smiling as she held a book in her hand. “All right, class. Everyone got their copy of To Kill a Mockingbird?”
I wanted to roll my eyes at her because we read that damn book last year. It had been beaten to death in the school system, not to mention, it was one I’d read a few times even before high school. My mom bought me a copy when I was little because I used to stare at the cover to hers all the time and she didn’t want me wrecking it.
The teacher turned, and her gaze landed on me in my new seat. I said nothing but she took the other route. “Manny, why are you not in your seat?”
Smiling, I said, “I am.”
She tossed the poor book onto the desk, setting a hand on her hip. “We both know you’re not. You don’t sit by Becket.”
“I did yesterday.”
“Yesterday is not today.”
“A beautiful sentiment.”
“Manny,” she said, hostile now. “You can’t move seats whenever you feel like it.”
I shrugged, and pointed to another student. “You let Grant sit by his girlfriend, and you said nothing.”
Grant glared at me, throwing his hands in the air. “Dude! Not cool. Don’t rat me out.”
“Sorry,” I responded, and then looked back to Flannigan. “But you’ve done that with other people too. Becket doesn’t have anyone to sit beside, and I’m staying here.” I decided to pull a card that made me feel icky but the ends justified the means. “If you have an issue with that, I’d be happy to call my dad and have him come down here.”
The woman’s eyes said it all. You didn’t tangle with the higher-ups. “Fine,” she huffed. “One problem between the two of you, and I change your seats without hesitation. Got it?”
I gave her a thumbs up.
What the fuck was wrong with me? In all the years I’d been in school, I couldn’t think of a single time I’d ever gone up against a teacher. A few mean students, sure but not the teachers. But she struck a nerve I didn’t know how to shake, and I snapped at her like a viper after a meal. And the funny thing was, I liked it.
We had to fill out a worksheet with questions on the first half of the book. It was no problem for any of us but we were still given most of the class time to do it. I’d read the book enough that I didn’t have to scan the pages for answers, and I filled them out one after another.
“Need help?” I asked Becket, showing him my paper. “You can copy off me if you want.”
“You’re kind,” he said. “But I know a lot of these. I read the book before.”
“We all did,” I whispered, then started laughing. He smiled in return, and it felt like a win.
I gave him the answers to the few he didn’t know off the top of his head, and then we were free to sit there and talk, like everyone else was doing. Mrs. Flannigan took to grading some papers that she’d gotten behind on, which I suspected that was the reason for this lame assignment.
Becket pulled the pens I gave him from out of his backpack. He started working on something in his notebook, and I watched him. I hadn’t scrubbed off the drawing he did on me the night before because I didn’t want to erase something he’d done. It would have felt like it didn’t matter, and it mattered a whole lot.
The scar on his hand had my attention as I attempted wishing it away. Of course, there was something I could do about it but that wasn’t my choice to make. A bad, bad man did that to him, and the only thought I had was making that bad man not exist anymore.
I could have killed him this morning when he was going for round two of playing nice with me. Pretending he wasn’t a psychopath, damaging this already shattered boy. Becket’s father deserved to be punished, and I wanted to be the one to do it.
“Can I as
k you something?” I said quietly.
Becket looked over, pausing from his picture. “Of course.”
Normally for something so personal, I would have hesitated or stayed quiet. But this was Becket, and his personality didn’t mesh with that. His responses to everything were simply factual, bordering on cold. He didn’t think the same way I did, or anyone else for that matter, so it wasn’t a worry that he would get upset.
“Does your father use his magic on you?”
He nodded. “Yes, on occasion. He likes to keep things different though, so he moved away from his own magic, and tends to use some form of medication.”
My chest ached. “For what?”
I got a shrug. “Lots of things.”
Fuck, this wasn’t right. It appeared like he couldn’t care less that this was happening to him. Scars, mental and physical, didn’t touch him. Why didn’t he believe he was worth caring about himself? Oh wait, I knew.
I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to smile comfortingly but he didn’t realize he needed comfort. “If you ever need anything, you can come to me. Like money, or a place to stay, or someone to talk to. I’m here. Okay, sweetheart?”
He smiled back, small and wrong. “I don’t know why you think I would need money or a place to stay but I enjoy talking with you.”
I squeezed his shoulder, trying to keep my voice steady. “I like talking to you too. A whole lot.”
I dropped my hand and went back to letting him draw. His evil father had destroyed all of his supplies, which gave me an idea. My chest eased a little when it came into my mind, and I hoped it wouldn’t blow up in my face.
X
Math was a stupid class anyway, and missing one wouldn’t do anything to my grades. It was the one class I didn’t have with Becket, so that kind of solidified the whole choice.
I hurried to the craft store with the hour I had, and headed into the building. A woman greeted me at the door, and I gave her a quick wave and a tiny smile as I rushed past her, and to the art section.
Becket didn’t tell me what he preferred drawing with or on, so I was left with one choice… buy everything. To say my family was wealthy would have been a comical understatement. While they didn’t at all spoil me, I had my own debit card for emergencies, and what I got paid when I did occasional shifts at the store. I literally never spent money on anything but meals once in a while when I was out doing whatever.
I had a little basket with me to carry what I gathered up. I picked out a few thick, nice quality sketchbooks, some small canvases, paint... and then I saw it.
When I got to the end of the row, I found something so stunning that I had to touch it. The wooden box was cherry, and bigger than the sketchbooks I’d grabbed. I checked out the little display to see that it had several expanding drawers, all filled with things that I didn’t know what the hell they were. Pastels, colored pencils, a few normal pencils, erasers, paints, some calligraphy stuff, and things I didn’t recognize.
Holy hell. I didn’t know a thing about art but this set made my lady parts all tingly just looking at it. I hoped very much that Becket would like it, and want to use it.
I grabbed two, along with another pack of sketching pencils and erasers, and headed up to the checkout counter.
“Whoa,” the girl behind the counter said, looking at my haul. “Someone’s having a party.”
I smiled, getting my card out. “Nah, I just have a friend who could use some stuff.”
“Good friend,” she commented, then started pulling the items through
Once I paid, I loaded it all into my backpack, stuffing it full. The entire time, I kept worrying that Becket would think I was a freak for doing this, while at the same time, my brain told me that he didn’t work like that. He wouldn’t think for a moment that there was anything wrong with me. Though he might wonder why I felt it necessary to buy him all this stuff.
I rushed back to the school, hoping I didn’t miss class at all. It turned out that I got there a little early, so I decided to wait out in the parking lot for a few minutes. Walking into an already started class was something I literally had nightmares about, so it was better for me to pace it out.
I wished I could text Becket to kill the time, or send him stupid pictures of the snail war I was pretty sure was happening outside of the back entrance but I didn’t have his phone number. Also, I couldn’t be sure it would amuse him at all. I didn’t know what he liked, or what made him happy for the most part. A sick feeling in my stomach told me that there probably wasn’t much that made him happy.
While I waited, I took to whistling out a song I liked from a musical, tiptoeing on a white line in the parking lot. I put one shoe in front of the other, holding my arms out to keep balance.
Right after I started singing a song to myself, someone shouted at me, causing me to lose my balance and land on my knees. Gravel cut into my skin, making me wince at the stinging. But at least I didn’t land on my backpack.
“Why are you not in class?” a man asked, walking around me. I knew his name was something Angler, and he worked security at the school... so I was in trouble.
“Um,” I said, struggling to get up with the weight on my back. I felt like a turtle. “S-sorry. There was an emergency at home, and I needed to make a call.”
The man stood over me as I got to my feet. “Is that why you were dancing around like an idiot?”
I swallowed dryly, putting my hands on the backpack straps. “I... I didn’t want to go to a class that was almost over,” I said honestly. “I was going to wait until my next one started.”
He lowered his face down to mine, stopping two inches away. “You think you can make up rules at your whimsy, is that it? Your daddy has money, and you believe it gives you the right to do whatever the hell you want?”
I shook my head. “I-I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I didn’t want to disturb the class.”
“You wanna back talk me?” he asked, his voice getting louder. “How about I restrain you and bring you into the office to have a chat with the principal? I bet I can have your grade dropped for this.”
“Please don’t,” I begged. “I won’t graduate if I fail this year.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure. So how about you cut the bitchy attitude and go to class, before I make you regret even showing up today.”
I nodded, hurrying off, hearing him laughing lightly as I went.
When I got into the building, I snuck off to the bathroom to hide. I hung the backpack from the hook and leaned my back against the stall wall. I breathed in and out, reminding myself that he couldn’t find me in here, and that I was fine. He probably wouldn’t have hit me, and the man only wanted me to do as he said. I did, so he would leave me alone. That was how it worked. If I was a good girl and did what I was told, then I wouldn’t get as hurt.
My fingers picked at the wall behind me as my eyes shut tightly. Stupid. I was so stupid waiting out there in broad daylight. Of course, someone saw me skipping class. This was my fault, and no one else’s.
I gasped when my fingernail broke off, the one on the middle finger on my right hand. When I pulled it to me, seeing the damage, I didn’t believe it. I hadn’t even noticed the pain all that much when I was picking. But there it was, my nail on the floor, and blood coming out of my finger. I hurried to wrap toilet paper around it, sopping up the blood and covering the wound. I held it tightly, feeling the pain and slowing the bleeding.
A few minutes later, I stood at the sink and examined the wound. My finger was ugly, a mess when I ran it under the water. I stared at the wrinkly skin, regretting every choice I’d ever made.
After taking a band-aid from my backpack, I wrapped the little wound I made for myself. I pressed the finger into my palm, then left the bathroom with my things.
When the bell rang and the class dismissed, I went to government, knowing I would see Becket there. Seeing him would make this better because at least I felt safe around him. He wouldn’t hurt me, or call m
e names, or hold me down in dark corners.
I found him sitting in class, staring at a blank wall when I walked in. I rushed to his side, setting the backpack onto our desk. “Hi,” I said, out of breath.
He looked up. “Hello. Why are you frazzled?”
I waved my hand casually. “I’m fine. Just had to do some running.”
When class started, our teacher told us we needed to read two chapters in our textbook and answer all the study guide questions at the back of each one. Not hard but annoyingly time-consuming. It wouldn’t help us with a thing on the test but it kept us out of the teacher’s hair for a little while.
I worked with Becket on it because everyone broke into groups of four. We were the odd ones out but I didn’t mind it. He didn’t make me do all the work, which was a nice break.
“Man,” I said. “This Hamilton guy got a lot of shit done, yet I feel like that was mostly pissing off Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. Good... fuckers...”
Becket smiled crookedly. “You seem happy for him.”
“I am. Too bad he was a dumbass and let some piece of garbage kill him.”
Becket shook his head. “Shame.”
My smile back was a wide one. “Are you saying that because I’m being salty about it?”
“Yes.”
“I like you.”
“Thank you.”
All right then, the look in his eyes was too adorable for me to just enjoy it and not ruin it. So, I unzipped my backpack, looking at him carefully. “I bought you some stuff.”
His eyebrows raised only slightly. “Did you?”
I started pulling things out, explaining so I didn’t look like a psycho. “I know you like to draw, and that all of your things are gone. So, I skipped my last class and went to the store to get you this.”
I put most of the supplies out, only leaving the spare kit, sketchbook, and a few pencils. Becket stared at the haul, then went right for the wooden box. He scrutinized it before slowly unhooking the front and opening it up.