When the bell rings, I gather my stuff, and before I’m done shoving it into my bag, the girl next to me is out of her chair and rushing up the aisle. Her shoulders are hunched forward, and her black hair hangs around her like a cloak she’s trying to hide behind. Her whole appearance screams at me to look away. To not notice her.
She reminds me so much of my brother, and knowing what happened to him when the pressure became too much, has me taking notice. Before Brady’s suicide, I probably wouldn’t have looked twice at her.
I get up, but then the parasite blocks my way. “That note was for Brie.” His posture is threatening.
There are four kinds of people in life. The parasites who feed off others, aka bullies who get off on the fear they spread. The sheep who just exist, going through the same shit every day. The deers who mind their own business but then either freeze or run whenever they’re threatened. And then there are the bears who are tolerant until you fuck with them.
I try my best to be the latter.
I don’t bother giving him any kind of reaction and just push by him. When I step out into the hallway, the parasite bumps into me. I stop walking and clench my jaw as I turn my head in his direction.
He steps into my personal space, puffing his chest out like a damn peacock. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
I used to think I was one of the most patient people on the planet, but it turns out I was eating shit like the rest of the sheep.
No more. Not since that night.
I drop my bag to the floor, and not caring who he is, I shove the parasite hard. He staggers back, slamming against the opposite wall with a dull thud. Surprise flashes over his face before he darts forward. The moment he takes a swing at me, I duck to the side, and he ends up slamming his fist into the wall.
“Michael!” One of the teachers snap. “Get to class. Now.”
I pick up my bag, and giving Michael-the-fucking-parasite a glare, I walk to my locker.
If he knew what I survived, he’d steer clear of me. I’ve dealt with much worse. My father makes the likes of Michael look like a joke.
Thanks to the little show earlier with Michael, I’m the topic of discussion.
I walk toward an empty table with my lunch, and sitting down, I hear some of the students whisper.
‘I heard he’s psychotic. Like no emotion. That’s freaky weird.’
‘I saw the fight with Michael, and I shit you not, he was cold as ice.’
‘I think it’s hot.’
‘Yeah? So was Ted Bundy.’
I’m not here to make an impression and couldn’t be bothered with what the other students think of me. I’m here to finish school so I can get a job. Right now, we’re living off the money Mom gets from my father, and I don’t like it one bit. Once I start working, I’ll take care of us, and my father can shove his money up his ass.
That’s the only goal I have for this year. Just to get through it.
Taking a bite of the meatloaf, I let my gaze drift over the nearby tables until it stops on the one where the girl, Brie, is sitting.
Half the day has passed, and I haven’t seen her smile once.
I take another bite of the food while a frown forms on my forehead.
She’s the first person that has caught my attention since we moved to this town three months ago.
Maybe it’s because of the flash of fear I saw on her face when I caught her staring at me. I didn’t like that one bit. I know how erosive fear is, and I’ll be damned before making another person feel that way.
Maybe, just maybe, I can do for her what I couldn’t do for Brady.
Is it even possible to redeem myself?
Chapter 2
BRIE
Sitting across from Aspen, I stare at the meatloaf that looks unappetizing. Aspen is the student body president and really a nice girl. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend. We spend our lunches together, eating in silence. It’s the way I prefer it.
Life has taught me that words are meaningless. Since I can remember, I’ve always been silenced, and the few times I tried to speak up for myself were disastrous.
So now I just keep quiet.
“How was your holiday break?” Aspen asks.
I keep my eyes on my plate as I lie, “Fine.”
The past three months were nothing short of hell. As much as I hate school, I’d rather face Sully, Michael, and all the other bullies than being stuck with my mother.
Aspen twirls her spaghetti around her fork, and it makes me wish I had opted for that instead of the meatloaf. Sully was behind me in line, so I grabbed the first thing I could to get away from him.
“You should join the student council,” Aspen states as if it’s even an option. She might be an outcast like me, but she’s feisty and an achiever.
Me? Not so much.
Actually, not at all.
I shake my head, and it draws a sigh from Aspen. She brings her water bottle to her mouth but pauses to mutter, “I swear it’s not as bad as you th–” Her words cut off when my eyes widen on Knox and a girl that’s practically trying to become one with his arm. Both are bad news, and I duck my head down low as they come up behind Aspen.
I hear Aspen snap, “What do you want, Knox?”
“Be at my Jeep at three,” he growls, and just the tone of his voice is enough to make fear ripple over me.
“No can do,” Aspen replies, sounding careless and not as if she’s facing off with Knox, one of the biggest bullies at the academy. “I have a student council meeting after school.”
I wish I had her courage.
“Of course you fucking do,” Knox barks, and the threatening edge to his words makes my stomach knot into a tense bundle.
The girl on Knox’s arm mutters, “Nice pearls, prude.”
“Isn’t it time for you to go back to your coffin, Morticia?” Aspen retorts, and it makes the corner of my mouth twitch.
I hear the other girl snarl and dare a quick peek because I need to know when I should make a run for it. The last thing I have strength for is to get stuck in a fight that has nothing to do with me. Especially with Knox. He’s bad news with a capital B. There are rumors that he killed his mother. I don’t know if they’re true, but whenever I’ve gotten in his way, he has never hesitated to shove me aside like I’m nothing more than trash.
Aspen makes a cross with her fingers. “May the power of Christ compel you.” There’s so much bravery on her face, I can’t help but stare while some of the other students snicker.
But then Knox stalks back to our table, and picking up Aspen’s plate of spaghetti, he dumps it over her head.
I cringe away, knowing what it feels like. My cheeks flame up with mortification on Aspen’s behalf as the other students burst out in laughter.
Aspen picks at a couple of strands of spaghetti, then mutters, “Asshole.”
There’s a sneer around Knox’s mouth that makes him look treacherous. “I suggest you stop running your mouth, Stray.” He grabs hold of Aspen’s chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Or it will get a lot worse. Trust me.”
Stop, Aspen. Don’t bate him any further.
Luckily she doesn’t, and once Knox walks away with the girl, I force a sympathetic smile to my face. I know too well what it feels like to be bullied and hate that it just happened to Aspen.
“Let’s go to the bathroom so you can clean up,” I offer.
I might not interact with people a lot, but Aspen has only been nice to me. Also, I’ve had so much experience with cleaning up that it’s second nature to me.
And then there’s the real reason – so I can get out of the cafeteria before someone decides to pick on me.
COLTON
As the day progresses, I hear more rumors about me spreading like wildfire.
The bottom line is half the school thinks I’m broody and full of shit, while the other half thinks I’m dangerous and that it’s my fault my brother is dead.
Little do they know I just want
to be left alone, so I can finish this year. I’m not here to make friends, and I’m definitely not interested in being popular. I’m hoping they’ll find something new to talk about by the end of the week.
Walking into the last class for the day, I see Brie sitting in the corner, which means I share five classes with her.
I take the seat next to her and notice she’s working on a new sketch.
Once everyone is seated, the teacher begins to talk. He pretty much says the same thing as the rest of the teachers, then scribbles his name on the board. Mr. Donati.
“For your first assignment…” Mr. Donati grins as the class groans. “I want you each to tell me why you chose this class. A short paper, two thousand words. And I want it done by tomorrow when you walk through that door.” He locks eyes with a girl that was last to arrive. “On time.”
Mr. Donati starts with the lesson, and my eyes drift over to the sketch Brie is working on. The movement of her hand as she draws is hypnotizing, and I zone out.
I watch as the image takes shape, and soon, there’s a frown etched onto my face. Brie’s drawing a girl that’s screaming while gripping her hair. She’s really good because I can actually feel the emotions jumping off the page. Frustration and torment.
Is that how she feels?
When the bell rings, I’m ripped out of the reverie I was caught in. Brie again rushes out of the class, and after I’ve packed my own things, I get up and leave.
There’s no sign of Brie as I head out of the building. When I get to my truck, I throw my bag on the passenger seat before sliding in behind the wheel. I steer the vehicle carefully out of the parking area, but it takes a couple of minutes because everyone is in a hurry to get away from school.
Once I’m finally driving down the main road toward the neighborhood I live in, I spot Brie walking. For a moment, I contemplate stopping to offer her a ride but then decide it would be weird, seeing as we don’t know each other.
She probably doesn’t even know my name.
Getting home and pulling up the driveway, I notice the lawn needs some care. I’ll mow it once it’s cooler outside. Walking into the house, that’s similar to the one we had in California, silence greets me.
My father has been throwing money at my mother in the hopes he can buy her back.
God, I hope she doesn’t give in. There’s no way I’ll ever let that man back into my life.
I kick off my shoes at the front door, and taking the stairs to the second floor, I head to my mother’s room. Softly nudging the door open, I see Mom lying on the bed.
Brady’s death broke her. Right after his suicide, she went into overdrive, rushing to get me away from my father. Once Mom had us settled in the town where she grew up, and she knew I was safe, it’s like she just shut down.
She hardly leaves the house and spends most of her time in bed. I take care of the shopping, cooking, and… practically everything.
I move closer, and sitting down on the bed, I place my hand on her shoulder. “I’m home.”
She turns her face to me, her eyes dimmed of all light and an exhausted expression, making her look years older than she is. “Did you have a good first day?”
I lie down behind her and wrap my arm around her. “It was okay. The teachers seem nice. I got a ton of homework.”
“Want to order something for dinner?” she whispers as if it would take too much energy to speak a little louder.
“I’ll make us something,” I reply. I give her a hug and press a kiss to the side of her head. “Want me to bring you something to drink.”
She shakes her head and burying her face in her pillow, she grips my arm and pulls me closer. “Can you just stay with me a little while?”
I snuggle back down and begin to talk about the first thing that comes to my mind. “There’s a girl at school. Her name is Brie.”
“Yeah?” Mom’s voice cracks over the single word.
“She draws really well.”
I don’t know why I’m bringing up Brie.
“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Mom mumbles.
I don’t correct her. The last thing I want is to worry my mother unnecessarily.
I stay with Mom for a couple of minutes longer, then say, “I’m going to get started with my homework.”
She nods. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”
“Sure.” I won’t, though. I do my best to be the strong one so Mom can just heal.
I give her one last squeeze, then get up and go to my own room. I sit down and open my laptop, deciding to work on the essay Mr. Donati gave us.
Why did I choose history?
Cause it’s easy, and I just want to pass my senior year so I can look after my mother.
I begin to type, explaining it in detail. He’ll either give me an A or ask the counselor to meet with me. Either way, I’m not going to lie.
My entire life has been built on lies. My future sure as hell won’t be.
After two hours of working on the essay, I stretch out to loosen my muscles. I go to change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and slip on my sneakers. Heading out to the backyard, I pull the lawnmower out of the shed.
The sun is setting by the time I’m done mowing the lawn. Walking back to the house, I pull my t-shirt off and use it to wipe the sweat from my face and back of my neck. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and chug it down as I go to throw the shirt in the laundry basket.
I kick off the sneakers and get a fresh shirt to pull on, then head back to the kitchen.
I take two steaks from the freezer and put them in some hot water so they can thaw, thinking I should’ve taken them out earlier.
I’ve gotten used to cooking for us. It’s either that or take-out, and I can’t stomach junk food anymore.
My thoughts go back to school while I prepare dinner. None of the students stood out. Well, except for Brie. The rest are the same as at my previous school.
I wonder what Brie’s story is. Is she just an introvert, or is there more?
From experience, I know how easy it is to hide abuse. God, you do everything in your power so people won’t find out.
We didn’t lie so my father wouldn’t get in trouble. We did it so people wouldn’t pity us.
Fuck, if only I had said something. If only I’d done more.
Then Brady would still be here.
When the food is ready, I prepare a plate for Mom. Grabbing a bottle of water and cutlery, I set it all on a tray. I carry the meal to her room and say, “Time to eat.”
She lets out a groan.
“Come on. I tried something new with the steak. I grilled it in butter and garlic.”
Mom sits up and wipes the hair out of her face. I set the tray down and whisper, “It would really make me happy if you eat half of it at least.”
It’s a low blow, but if I don’t guilt-trip her, she doesn’t eat.
I wait for her to take a bite of the steak. Mom gives me a weak smile. “My son, the chef. It’s delicious.”
Pleased that she’s eating, I go grab the book I’m reading and walk back to the kitchen. Taking my plate, I go sit outside on the porch.
Eating, I stare out over the lawn. I spent the summer planting shrubs and flowers. Mom always loved gardening, and I hoped it would draw her out of the house. But it didn’t.
When I’m finished with the meal, I read for a while before I go back inside to clean the kitchen. Grabbing the tray from Mom’s room, I smile when I see that she ate most of the food.
“It was really good,” she murmurs, “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome.” I finish the chores then settle in at my desk to continue with my homework.
Our life here is a total contrast to how things were in California. There’s no noise. No rages. No demoralizing words. No beatings. Just silence.
It’s peaceful, and I know Brady would’ve loved it here.
If only we had moved sooner.
Chapter 3
&n
bsp; BRIE
I managed to sneak into the house without my mom realizing I’m home from school.
Even though I have a laptop, I prefer to write by hand. Once I’m done with my essay for history, a smile tugs at my lips. My stomach growls, and I rub a hand absentmindedly over it. I should’ve eaten the meatloaf at lunch.
Glass breaks somewhere in the house, and it makes my head snap up from where I’m reading over what I wrote.
“Brie!” Mom’s voice is shrill as it echoes through the house.
My shoulders slump, and getting up, I sigh. At least I managed to avoid her for a couple of hours.
Leaving my room, my steps feel heavy as I go down to the kitchen. I find my mother staring at the pieces of what used to be a cocktail glass.
Crouching by the mess, I begin to pick up the largest pieces.
My mother doesn’t move, and I can feel her eyes burning on the top of my head. “They must’ve swapped you at birth.” My heart kicks against my ribs, and I work faster. “I’m sure I can sue them for negligence.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard the words. Where my mother has ginger hair, I have black. She has green eyes, and I have blue. I look nothing like her.
Her perfectly manicured hand reaches for my face, and a long nail digs in under my chin as she forces me to look up at her. “God only knows who’s kid you are. Not mine, that’s for sure.” Her sharp gaze moves over my features. “You’re so… dull. Would it kill you to try harder? What will it take to light a fire under you? Huh?”
I stand up and shuffle backward to put some space between us, then mumble, “I’ll try harder.”
“No fight at all,” she sneers. I turn to throw the shards of glass away, but then she grabs hold of my arm, yanking me back so I’ll face her. “I’m not done talking to you.”
I swallow hard. “Sorry.”
“I’m sure the whole town is talking about the bastard kid that’s living with me.”
Not My Hero: Black Mountain Academy Page 2