Wrong Side of Town wm-3

by Komal Kant

  Surprise shot through me at the fact that Ryder had addressed me, and I stepped beside Vincent so I could see Ryder better. The hostility was gone from his face; now a smirk played around his lips.

  “Yes, he’s very bright,” I responded, keeping my voice even.

  Ryder gave a few small nods as though he was really considering my words. “See, the thing is, I think all this school stuff is bullshit. I think that whoever Dylan’s dad was, he was some pompous ass prick, because Dil definitely didn’t get this from us.”

  My body tensed at the way Ryder spoke so brashly about Dylan’s parentage. This was all news to me, but the fact that Dylan hadn’t reacted proved that he had heard all of this before.

  This ten-year-old boy, who had so many aspirations, was well-adjusted to hearing his older brother’s uninformed opinions. It made me ill, and my heart broke for the life Dylan had been born into. He deserved better than this; he deserved a chance.

  “I let Dylan keep up this hobby because Vincent’s so damn insistent about it,” Ryder continued. “If you ask me, learning this shit ain’t gonna get Dylan anywhere. He needs to learn to fight and stand up for himself and stop being such a little pussy.” Ryder’s eyes flickered to me. “So don’t get too comfortable, Estella. Don’t make yourself at home. We ain’t used to having a woman in our house unless we’re banging her brains out.”

  There were so many things wrong with what Ryder had just said. The fact that he felt that education was a hobby was completely disturbing. The fact that he had just called his ten-year-old brother a pussy was wrong. The fact that he believed that women were sexual objects was disgusting.

  I waited for Vincent to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. Their other brother, Tyson, was still leaning against the counter and staring up at the ceiling acting like he couldn’t hear a thing that Ryder was saying.

  This entire situation was just wrong.

  From behind me, Dylan let out a sniffle and my heart completely shattered. Spinning around, I wrapped up the shaking boy in my arms and held him.

  There was a crashing sound, and I glanced around to find that the pot of Bolognese sauce was strewn across the kitchen floor. Tyson was staring at it in complete shock, while Ryder’s face was the picture of innocence.

  He approached us, his steps slow and deliberate. That smirk still lingered around his mouth as he pulled out a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and took out a fifty dollar bill.

  “Get yourself some real food, Kid,” he said, placing it down on the kitchen table and walking to the doorway. He glanced back at Tyson who still hadn’t moved. “Let’s go, Son.”

  Like an obedient puppy, Tyson’s head jerked up and he hurried after Ryder, not looking at any of us as he passed.

  The front door slammed shut and an eerie silence descended upon the house.

  The silence was brief, because a few seconds later, all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vincent

  All I saw was red and black.

  That’s all I saw as my hands grabbed the edge of the kitchen table and overturned it. That’s all I saw as my finger closed around the chair, lifting it up. That’s all I saw as I began smashing the chair against the floor, wood splintering around me

  Screaming filled my ears, but I didn’t pause.

  My feet carried me to the kitchen counter and I knocked everything to the ground in one motion. Cutlery, bottles, and God-knows what else, crashed to the floor. There was the sound of something shattering, but I didn’t look around to see what.

  My fists found the wall and I began punching, over and over again. The pain shooting through my knuckles barely registered. The anger numbed it all. All I saw was red. All I saw was Ryder’s face.

  “Vincent, stop!” The voice was screaming in my ear. Someone was pulling me back, pulling me away. “Vincent, please!”

  She sounded desperate, and the fear in her voice was sobering. Staggering, I let her pull me back and gazed into her eyes, trying to find something to hold onto.

  Estella’s whiskey eyes were like an anchor; something about her stabilized me. My breathing slowed, but it was ragged and uneven.

  I couldn’t get Ryder’s voice out of my head. I couldn’t forget the cruel smirk that had stretched across his face, like it satisfied him to see everyone crumble around him. That was his thing—he liked to mess with people’s heads, and he’d definitely messed with mine.

  “You need to calm down. For Dylan. Calm down for him.”

  Her words hit home, and I turned to find Dil pressed against the wall, his chest heaving up and down as silent sobs wracked his chest.

  Panic shot through me, and I reached Dil in two strides, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Shit, Dil! Dil! Breathe! Breathe, Dil!”

  Dylan’s breathing wasn’t slowing as he locked eyes with me, fear and desperation racing through them. Words were forming on his mouth, but they weren’t coming out.

  Adrenaline surged through me, and I picked Dylan up and raced to the bathroom, kicking the door open with a foot. From behind me, Estella was crying, asking me what was wrong. I couldn’t answer her. I had to focus on my brother.

  Placing Dylan down on the toilet seat, I searched through the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out his inhaler. "Breathe in, Dil,” I said, my voice gentle as I put the inhaler in his mouth and sprayed it.

  Dylan took desperate gulps, and I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Take your time. You’re gonna be okay, Kid.”

  “He’s asthmatic.” Estella’s voice was quiet as she knelt down beside me, and I dared a glance at her.

  Her face was wet with tears as she took Dil’s hand in hers. Having her close to him must’ve been a good thing, because Dylan’s breathing slowed down and his face wasn’t so pale anymore.

  There was no way in hell I was going to risk him having another attack, so I sprayed the inhaler two more times and made him sit there for five minutes until I was sure he wasn’t going to relapse.

  Eventually, he shot me a look of annoyance and pulled the inhaler out of his mouth. “I’m fine, Vin.” His voice was soft and faint. “I want to sleep.”

  “Sure, kid. I’ll take you to bed.” I took the inhaler from him before picking him up again and carrying him to his room. Estella followed us but hesitated in the doorway of Dylan’s room.

  As I lay Dylan down on his bed, he whispered to me, “Can you tell Estella to come in?”

  “Sure, Kid.”

  I half-turned to the doorway, not wanting to make eye contact with her. “Stelle, Dylan wants you in here.”

  “Oh, sure.” Estella approached the bed and sat on the edge on the opposite side from me. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” She pressed a hand to his forehead and you could practically see the difference in his face at having her beside him.

  “Tired,” he said, simply. His brow was furrowed and there was a small pout on his mouth; something was bothering him. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

  Startled, Estella looked up and our eyes met. She seemed torn between what she wanted and what Dylan wanted. It was like she was silently begging me for an out.

  There was no reason for her to come back here. Ryder wasn’t happy that she played “mom” or “wife” or whatever it was that she did. He was going to be an ass to her if she came back. Ryder had made his stance clear—if knocking Estella’s food to the floor wasn’t clear enough, I didn’t know what was. He didn’t want her around.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to break my kid brother’s heart. “Dylan, I don’t think Estella is gonna—”

  “Of course I’ll come back,” Estella responded, lacing her hand with Dylan’s. “I still have to teach you how to make a blueberry pie, don’t I?”

  What the hell? Was this girl fucking insane? Didn’t she get Rye’s message?

  Trying to catch Estella’s eye had suddenly become my number one priority. I had to make her understand that she couldn’t come back here if sh
e valued her life. She didn’t have to do this to make Dil feel better. We’d find him another tutor—a guy or an old woman. Someone. Anyone. Just not her.

  “Really, Estella?” Dylan asked, a smile spreading across his face at her words.

  “Really, Dylan.” Estella gave him a small nod. “Now, get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Estella stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my brother.

  “I’m gonna take Estella home. I’ll tell Tyson to come back home and keep an eye on ya. You gonna be okay ‘til then?” I asked, helping Dylan get under the covers.

  “Yep.” Dylan’s eyes were already closing.

  “If you need anything, call me.”

  Dylan nodded once to let me know that he’d heard me, and I walked out of the room and headed outside. Estella was standing by my bike, fixated on the dirt road that turned into our property. Her body was tense, as though she was preparing herself for something.

  “We need to talk.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even reached her.

  When she turned to face me, there was a crease on the center of her forehead. A frown was playing around her mouth; all traces of the smile she’d had on for Dylan had disappeared. The look made me falter and I forgot what I wanted to talk to her about.

  It ate me up inside knowing that I couldn’t bring a smile to her face the way Dylan did. Sure, she’d been truly happy when I’d taken her to the creek, but that had been temporary. I could never really make her happy. There was too much wrong with me. She was a good girl, and I was from the wrong side of town.

  “Yes, Vincent, we do need to talk.” Her frown deepened and anger flitted through her eyes. The sheer intensity of them made me take a step back for good measure. Estella wasn’t one to get angry. Yeah, she rose to the challenge and didn’t back down, but I had never seen her angry like this before.

  “What happened today was not okay,” she pressed on, not giving me a chance to speak. “Dylan can’t be exposed to behavior like that, ever. I can’t believe the way you all speak in front of him! He’s a child!”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. No woman had ever spoken to me like that, like I was a badly behaved kid. Within five seconds, I had lost complete control of the situation. And my balls. They’d done a runner on me, too.

  “Do you know what triggered Dylan’s asthma attack today?” She paused for a second. “Fear, Vincent. Anxiety. Instability. That’s why your ten-year-old brother had an asthma attack. He’s scared of you.”

  That’s when I snapped.

  This girl, who didn’t know a fucking thing about me, could tell me off; she could get mad at me for losing control, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her tell me that my own brother was scared of me. Not when I fucking loved that kid more than anything else on this planet.

  My feet moved forward until I was inches away from Estella. Something darted across her face—fear, repulsion, wariness. I didn’t know what she was feeling, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to care.

  “Don’t you dare say that to me.” My voice was low, but each word sounded dangerous as it left my mouth. “I love Dylan more than you’ll ever know. And he loves me too. I’m all he’s got. And he’s all I got. Don’t come into our lives and tell me that he’s scared of me, ‘cause that ain’t the truth. You don’t know shit about us, so fuck off to your perfect life in suburbia. We don’t need you.”

  Once the words left my mouth, I felt like a complete asshole. Especially since Estella looked like she was going to start crying again. The frown had left her face; instead she looked like someone had kicked her in the gut. That would be me.

  “You think I live a perfect life?”

  I didn’t say anything—there was nothing left for me to say. I’d already fucked up. I knew what I’d said had hurt her, especially after she’d told me that her mother had also abandoned her.

  I didn’t know how to fix the situation or how to take back my words. Being a Madden, being in a gang, you didn’t really learn to talk about your feelings.

  Estella didn’t say anything else for a good minute. I didn’t say anything either. What the hell was I supposed to say? I’d just ruined any chance of Estella and me being decent towards each other. We barely spoke to each other, and the one time we’d finally communicated, I ended up being a complete douchebag.

  Finally, the silence was broken as Estella glanced at my bike. “Could you please take me home now?” Her tone was polite, but I could tell that it was just a shield for the shit I’d just inflicted her with.

  “Sure.”

  And that’s all I said to her as I got on the bike and waited for her to climb on after me. She didn’t put her arms around me like she always did, and I didn’t bother to move them into their usual position. I felt cold, sick, as I drove her home.

  When I pulled up outside her house thirty minutes later and she climbed off, I felt like she was slipping away. She didn’t even bother to say good night as she walked across her front yard and up the stairs.

  I didn’t drive off right away. I sat there, watching her fish for her keys; watching the way the porch light illuminated her stony face and highlighted the light tones of her hair.

  Even when she’d gone inside, I didn’t drive off. I sat there, wondering why it felt like I was struggling to breathe. Why was my chest constricting painfully? Was that guilt worming its way through me?

  And that’s when I realized why all this was happening. It had taken me two weeks, but now I knew. Estella had become familiar. She had become someone I depended on. Estella had secretly crept into my life, and I hadn’t even noticed until this very second.

  And I had let her fucking walk out of it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Estella

  School on Monday was pretty bad.

  I’d had a History project to finish up over the weekend, but my mind had kept drifting to a certain tattooed jerk, and I hadn’t been able to put the finishing touches to my project that I’d wanted to.

  There was no way I’d get an ‘A’ on it. I’d probably just scrape a ‘B’, and that was only because my History teacher had a soft spot for me.

  Slipping grades were not something I could afford to deal with. I needed to maintain exceptional grades to get that scholarship to college; otherwise I’d have no chance to break out of the vicious cycle my father was exposing me to.

  There was no alternative to it; I had to stop tutoring Dylan, and I had to stop thinking about Vin-um, the tattooed jerk!

  To be fair, he didn’t really understand the impact of his words. He didn’t understand that my life was far from perfect. Just because I wore this mask—straight-A student, good girl, responsible—didn’t mean that I didn’t have problems of my own. It didn’t mean that my life wasn’t completely messed up. I was trying to deal with everything as best as I could.

  Now, the only option left was to remove Vincent from the equation. If he stayed in my life, I was going to lose more than good grades; I was going to lose my darn mind.

  The only thing that really bothered me was breaking my promise to Dylan. I knew our tutoring sessions had become more than just that. We’d become friends. He relied on me in his life as a constant. I think I was that maternal presence he’d lacked his entire life. It was killing me to do this to him, but I had no choice.

  My promise to him had been made before Vincent had said what he’d said. It was probably for the best, anyway since Ryder seemed to hate my guts for some unknown reason. I think that entire family was a little insane.

  At the end of the day, I headed to my locker and took out the text books I’d need for homework tomorrow. Since I wouldn’t have time to do any work this afternoon, I was going to get everything done tomorrow afternoon now that I’d decided not to tutor Dylan anymore.

  “Estella, can I talk to you?”

  Turning to the right, I found Eddie Cavallari leaning against the locker beside mine. His sandy-colored hair was sp
iked to the side in an interesting way. The sight of his tattoos made me want to take a step back, but I checked myself. I didn’t want Eddie to think I was being rude, so I stood my ground.

  “Sure,” I swallowed, my eyes darting from left to right as I tried to focus on something else.

  Panic was swelling up in my chest and the strokes of his tattoos seemed to swim in front of my eyes. An itch was starting up on my left arm, and I was trying my hardest not to scratch it.

  Look at the floor. Look at the locker. Look at other people.

  Don’t look at his tattoos. Don’t look at his tattoos.

  Maybe if I kept chanting the mantra over and over again, my mind would create an illusion that Eddie’s skin was bare; that no tattoos covered his arms.

  I tried to push the feeling away, but it was pounding in my chest, rising to the surface—I felt disgust. Eddie’s tattoos disgusted me.

  “Estella? Are you alright?” Eddie’s voice shook me from the panic that was attempting to swallow me whole.

  Tearing my eyes away from his arms, I glanced up to find Eddie watching me with concern. This was Eddie. This wasn’t a nightmare. Eddie was a nice guy. Eddie wasn’t a monster. Eddie wasn’t going to hurt me.

  Forcing a smile onto my face, I nodded. “Sorry, I completely zoned out. What were you saying?”

  Eddie leaned closer, a frown playing around his mouth. “I’m really worried about Hadie. I mean, I know she’s seeing a grief counselor and trying to work through everything, but she seems so...” He paused, searching for the right word. “…different.”

  “Different how?”

  “She’s withdrawing. She doesn’t talk when I’m with her. And ever since she came back to school, she’s been holed up in the library. I don’t know what to do or say to get her to react.”

  As Eddie spoke, I tried my best to concentrate on his face and not let my eyes wander to his inked arms. His concern for my best friend was pretty sweet. I knew Hadie was in despair, but I honestly wondered if she realized how much Eddie cared about her.