by Danae Ayusso
I don’t think he will.
“If you and Justice are done,” Shep said, giving us a warning look. “Flex you share with the twins. First period we all have shop together… Thanks for that by the way. I knew you thought I was adorable,” he cooed and I rolled my eyes. “Second and third period we all have Striperella for our English Lit block. Fourth period you and I have gym, fifth you need to figure out so Principal Wallace said to come down fifth period and she’ll talk to you about it. Sixth is AP Physics C… Good luck with that. And seventh is Introduction to French. That’s mostly freshman and sophomores, so try to keep Justice from shanking someone.”
I giggled.
“Of course,” he grumbled, making a face. “There’s your locker—three-fifteen and the combo is on the back of your schedule—but don’t use it. Anything left in it will disappear,” he warned, nodding towards one of the navy lockers and kept walking. “In winter any jackets will need to be left with Striperella in her classroom otherwise you’ll lose it. Not everyone has sticky fingers, but there are enough that target those coming from apparent money. Since you’re new, and Justice made sure that everyone in the office knew you were Price’s daughter, that could make you a target because of the presumed money you come from. Not that the twins helped with that any,” he said, making a face.
They rolled their eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Price doesn’t want you knowing how much anything cost because you freak out,” Shep said. “That should be explanation enough.”
Bleu punched Shep in the kidney, glaring at him.
“Ow! Dang, you pack a punch,” Shep complained.
This is going to end in bloodshed, and for once it may not be us that’s shedding the blood.
True. That’d be a change for once.
A tall, dark haired dude shoulder checked Shep in passing.
“Watch where you’re going, Asshole,” he snarled.
“Go fuck yourself, Pencil Dick!” I barked out before I could stop myself, and his eyes widened in surprise, causing him to stop in mid-step.
And you have the balls to say I lack tact, Sis.
Shut up.
You have an audience, by the way.
“You better keep walking or you’ll be limping away bleeding,” I sneered, bobbing my head, causing everyone to look at us.
“Bitch,” he mumbled under his breath but kept going.
“That’s Miss Bitch to you, Cockgoblin!” I shouted.
Shep shook his head. “Seriously? You couldn’t even make it to flex without getting into it with one of the Van Zuls, huh?”
Oh crap.
Bravo, Sis.
“You really need to reel Justice in,” Shep warned, trying to keep his voice down.
I shook my head. “That wasn’t Justice,” I informed him and his eyes widened. “We’re one in the same, Misha. What part of that don’t you get? Sure, as different as we seem, to you, we’re the same person for the most part. Yes, she’s finding amusement in what I just did, and I’m sure that starting shit with the Van Zuls we’re forced to go to school with is a no-no, but I’ll always protect and defend my friends. Got it?”
Shep smiled. “Aw, that’s so sweet. You called Paul Van Zul a cockgoblin and defended my honor by threating to beat him up. So romantic,” he teased with a wink and I blushed. “For not finding me adorable and sexy, you sure are giving off some mixed signals, Mikey,” he scolded.
The twins snorted, shaking their heads.
Can I kick his ass now?
“What’s that one’s major malfunction?” I asked, motioning with my chin towards said cockgoblin in the distance opening his locker.
Shep made a face. “He’s a total douche bag that thinks he’s the bomb because he finally broke the six-foot mark. He was five-five up until last winter then he grew like seven or eight inches so he thinks he’s someone of importance now.”
“I’m assuming that his dick didn’t grow with him,” I said.
Shep laughed, handing me off to the twins outside of our classroom. “I can neither confirm nor deny that, which I’m happy to say. He’s a fifth year senior after slacking off his freshman year and missing nearly the entire year. Because he’s nineteen he thinks he’s cool, not realizing being a nineteen year old in high school is the exact opposite of cool.”
I laughed.
“Oh well. He isn’t my problem until later. Have fun, and try not to get into it with anyone else today,” Shep said.
That, I can confidently say I will never agree to.
No shit.
“Sure,” I said, making a face, causing the twins to chuckle. “See you in shop?”
“No, you annoy me,” he retorted and dismissively waved me away.
Can I feed him to Dandy now?
I’m real close to saying yes.
I sat in the back row with the twins and watched the door as students meandered in. Each looked at me, then to the twins, then back to me.
Yes, I know. We look like a damn special edition Oreo cookie sitting in the back of the class.
When the bell rang, the teacher took attendance. “Mr. Justice?”
Damn it. They didn’t get the updated forms yet.
Mr. Meyers looked up. “Mr. Mikhail Justice?” he called out again.
I raised my hand. “Here?”
And the snobby bitches sitting by the windows started giggling.
“Can someone say bull dyke?” one said, causing her friends to giggle.
“Bull dyke,” I said. “It isn’t a difficult combination of words to say, especially considering they’re monosyllabic and relatively commercialized in modern society when used together. Now, if you would have said, ‘Can someone say floccinaucinihilipilification?’ Yeah, that would have been more impressive considering it’s the longest non-medical polysyllable word in the English language, and thus it would have made your ridiculous juvenile attempt at being amusing and making me look moronic, slightly comedic and worth the interruption. However, all you did was make yourself look like a dumb bitch that needs to go back to her single wide and have her cousin...I mean boyfriend...shove something back in her mouth because the only thing it’s obviously good for is shoving stuff in instead of what comes out of it.”
I smooched my lips together at her and smiled, ignoring the twenty pairs of eyes staring at me, their mouths hanging open.
Only the twins weren’t shocked and were smiling; they’ve seen me go ghetto before.
You can thank me later.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Mr. Meyers coughed, trying to cover the amusement in his voice. “Sorry, Miss Justice,” he corrected; smiling warmly, and it made me smile and feel good.
“Simoeau, Mikhail-Justice Simoeau,” I said.
You can’t leave good enough alone, can you?
Huh, high school might not be so bad after all.
“My apologies, Miss Simoeau. You’re new to the area?” he asked.
Nope, it sucks ass.
I nodded. “North Philly.”
“Really? Damn, that’s a tough place.”
“No shit,” I agreed. “Sir,” I quickly added.
“I’m sure the urban schooling environment you are used to is vastly different. Would you care to tell the class about some of the noticeable differences that you’ve seen so far while we wait for the office to do the announcements?”
Oh, Sweetie, where to begin?
Bleu knocked on his desk twice, stealing the teacher’s attention, then shook his head.
“You’re right,” Mr. Meyers said then nodded. “First day of school announcements always take forever and it’s only a twenty-minute stopping ground before starting the day.”
I looked over at Bleu and he smiled.
My quiet savior.
Is it wrong that I want to hug him right now?
Uh, yeah.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hug someone before.
You have so many issues
. I’m starting to see why everyone thinks you’re crazy.
We’re crazy.
“Oh my God, that was awesome!” someone whispered from the desk in front of me.
I turned to look at the tweeker looking dude in front of me.
“Seriously awesome!” he beamed.
“Thanks?” I offered.
“I’m Skeeter.” He bounced up and down in his seat, offering me his hand.
“I don’t like to be touched.”
Be nice.
“Oh? Oh! That’s cool,” he said. “I don’t like to be touched either, well, by dudes, but chicks are totally okay. I like your hair. Did the three of you match on purpose or did that just kind of happen? The purple is really cool and matches your nails. What brings you to Montana from Philly? That’s a helluva change. God, I couldn’t even imagine that! Were you in a gang?” He rambled so quickly that I barely caught it all.
Holy shit, someone hit fast forward on this kid!
Cocaine, it’s a helluva drug.
Shut up, Rick James.
“Are you on meth?” I asked.
His head titled to the side and he scratched it, his fingers catching in his short, thin white boy dreads. “No? Oh! Do you mean because I talk so fast? No, not meth. The doctors say that I have A.D.H.A. or something like that, and my parents are ridiculous hippies so they relocated us from Spokane to Anaconda in hopes that a more mellow environment would somehow cause me to focus better without drugs, so I haven’t been given the drugs, but I don’t think it’s helping. Do you concur? I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I really do like your hair. And you have really pretty eyes. Are they real?”
Huh, I think I’m going to sit this one out.
I nodded. “Real, thank you, and it was a hairstyle out of necessity. No, not in a gang, I knew some bangers though. It wasn’t by choice that I left Philly, but I’m very happy with the move. Drugs are never the answer, even the prescribed kind I’m sure, so I totally agree with your hippie parents, and what kind of name is Skeeter?”
His gray eyes widened. “I know right!? My parents were on drugs, and yet they won’t give me the drugs that the doctors said I really should take. Skeeter Rainbow Moonbeam Meyers. That just screams kick my ass.”
Yes, yes it does.
“Don’t worry, Skeeter, I’ll protect you.”
“Really? So you’re like a ninja assassin?” Skeeter beamed.
Maybe I’ll beat his ass myself.
I leaned forward and beckoned him with my finger and he complied. “If I were, you’d be dead already,” I whispered then winked.
“Oh my God, I know right? Dad!” he exclaimed, turning towards the blackboard. “Mikhail’s a ninja assassin!” he squealed, bouncing up and down in his seat.
Oh, that’s kind of awkward.
As if we couldn’t look crazier if we tried, you had to go and befriend a tweeker with no filter. Way to go, Sis.
Mr. Meyers nodded. “Good to know that we’re safe in case of a ninja attack, Skeeter. Can you save the rest of your discussion until after the announcements?”
Skeeter looked around the room as if he was confused and didn’t know where he was, and then he smiled. “Okay.”
The annoying sound of chimes came through the overhead speakers.
“Welcome back Copperheads!” Principal Wallace beamed. “If you can please stand for the pledge of allegiance,” she said then started reciting it.
I didn’t get nearly enough to eat this morning.
Nerves, I’m sure.
You will resolve it or I’m calling Daddy for some of those delicious croissants.
Shut up.
“You can sit down now,” Skeeter whispered.
I looked around, confused.
Everyone else in the class was sitting, looking at me.
Way to go.
Again, shut up and leave me alone!
I quickly sat and sulked down in my seat.
“I personally want to welcome some new additions to Anaconda High’s senior class,” the Principal continued. “And some returning headaches,” she grumbled the latter. “Sam Sanders from North Central High School in Spokane, Washington, Johnathan Stone Horse from Four Winds Community High School in Fort Totten, North Dakota, Debbie Haralson from Wallace High School in Wallace, Idaho, and Mikhail-Justice Simoeau of Philadelphia will be joining the senior class this year. We are proud to call them copperheads!”
Oh God. Make it stop!
You did this to yourself.
“In addition to joining this year’s senior class, Mikhail-Justice Simoeau had the highest scores in the State of Montana for English Lit, Math, Science, and Language Arts on the MontCAS, helping to push Anaconda High to one of the top-five scoring public high schools in the State! Congratulations, Copperheads! Oh yeah, and welcome back, Draven Van Zul,” she mumbled.
Half the class groaned and the other half laughed.
I think we missed something.
I concur.
“Have a great day, Copperheads, and remember to welcome all of the new students with open minds and arms,” she said before signing off.
Everyone was looking at me.
This isn’t awkward in the least.
“Congratulations, Mikhail,” Mr. Meyers said with a smile. “That’s no easy feat.”
“No shit,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Great, another spoiled, private school brat,” someone complained.
“If only they knew,” I said, making a face.
“Shut up, Lizzy,” someone complained.
“Deny it,” Lizzy sneered, ignoring them.
The class looked between me and the fuming brunette that looked as if she needed her face rearranged.
I can do it for you.
Tempting offer.
“Not private schooled,” I said. “Not even home schooled, because that would suggest a home was involved. Homeless street kid born and raised on the streets of North Philly that learned everything she knows from the public library and Alex Trebek,” I said, smiling wide.
That got some chuckles.
Of course, no one believed me, but I don’t care. I’m not here for them. I’m not here to appease them or to be their friend.
Why are we here?
Honestly? I don’t know. Normality, maybe.
Totally overrated.
I’m starting to agree with you.
The door opened.
Mr. Meyers didn’t bother to look up from the magazine he was reading. “You’re late as usual, Draven,” he said.
A skinny dude hurried in, tossing a hall pass on Mr. Meyer’s desk.
That’s Draven Van Zul? How in the hell did Shep get his ass handed to him by that skinny dude? He’s like Ellie’s size?!
My attention went from the small, winded dude without a bruise on his pimple-ridden face, to the door he had come through just as a waking nightmare walked into the classroom.
Why is he here, now of all times?
There is no fence between us, and people are around!
Now isn’t the time to talk to him, even though my French delusion is exactly who I wanted to talk to this morning and the person I had been missing since he abandoned me after my meltdown.
He stood there in the front of the class, looking at me.
His black eyes felt as if they were searing into my soul, his hair was standing on end like a boyband reject and I wanted to scrub his head before knotting my fingers in his hair. His broad chest looked amazing in the fitted black long sleeve shirt he wore; around the scoop neck in charcoal it says Fuck It All in eloquent calligraphy. His thick, muscular thighs and round ass looked amazing in his dark designer jeans, and his feet looked slightly longer in the black Pikolinos’ Ellesmere M6c boots he wore…
I only know what they are because Price has two pairs and I had commented that I thought they were English looking, and then I scolded him because of their price tag and how he really didn’t need two pairs at that cost.
Seriously, how doe
s my Frenchman have a damn fashion sense when I have none? He’s in my head after all.
Justice? No witty, snarky, cynical comeback?
“Damn it,” I mumbled, realizing I was on my own with him.
I closed my eyes and struggled to ignore him, to think of anything but him…
If you don’t think about the delusions they go away, right?
“Why won’t he go away?” I whispered.
“I have asked myself that a few times.”
Reluctant, I opened an eye and looked up at the smug delusion now sitting on my desk.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, well aware that everyone in the class is now aware of my lack of mental well-being.
“Funny,” he said with a cocksure smile that made me want to punch him in the face for some reason. “That was exactly what I was going to ask you. It’s as if you’re reading my mind,” he said, ominous.
What kind of lame ass line is that?
“You aren’t real,” I tried to remind him, but there was something tangible about him, about his presence.
With a shaking hand, I reached out and touched him.
Instead of my hand passing through his chest, it rested on it. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the heat from his body, the flush of his cheeks from the contact, the way his chest vibrated when the breath he was holding rushed out of him in a shudder past his full lips.
I lowered my hand. “It isn’t possible,” I stammered. “You aren’t real.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked with a smirk, causing a dimple to recess deeply in his cheek on one side.
When he reached out, as if he was going to caress my cheek, I leaned away from him and started trembling.
Instantly he lowered his hand and his face dropped.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m going to puke,” I stammered and fell out of my desk then hurried from the classroom and ran down the hall to the bathroom.
What little I had eaten at breakfast came up as easily as it went down.
Once my stomach was empty, I resorted to dry heaving.
I’m sure you could hear me from the hallway.
Through the release bell then the tardy bell, I sat on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet.
If it wouldn’t have been for the years of experience, I had with Mom doing the unmentionable and sometimes unconscionable in public bathrooms, I would have been slightly grossed out now.