“What took you so long?” He puts his smoke in his mouth, and pulls me into him, smacking me on the back.
The girl playing the cello enters my mind. The image hasn’t left my head since I saw her a few hours ago. I try shaking it away but fail. I mumble, “Just running late.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A broad smile spreads across his freckled face. “Did you get the stuff?” He winks.
I pull the packet of coke from my pocket and hand it to him. His eyes widen and he smacks me on the shoulder with a laugh. “You always pull through. Where you get your goods from, anyway?”
I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t need to know. If he did, it wouldn’t be good for him. At least this way, I have some control over the situation. He stands on his toes, puts his arm round my shoulder, spilling half his beer over me and laughs again.
“A dealer doesn’t share his secret, ay?” He pulls away and stumbles towards the lounge.
I pass Suz, who grabs me by the hand and spins me around. I wonder if this means Rebecca is here. I hope not. Suz and I actually have a good relationship when she isn’t around Rebecca. “Come on, K, dance with me!”
“Not now, Suz. Let me get some drinks in first.”
She laughs. “Oh, you’re so boring!” She shoves me away, and continues to move her body without a care in the world.
The few people still conscious enough to notice I’m here, raise their drinks into the air and cheer—probably because of what my arrival means for them. I nod, slumping onto a spare space on the sofa next to a girl who looks like she’s in an entirely other world. She catches my gaze and smiles.
I take another swig of my drink and lean back into the sofa.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. “What’s up, my man?”
I look around to see Cam, eyes glazed and grinning.
“Not much. You?”
“This is what’s up.” He hands me a joint, and I smile. I need to get away from this world for a little while, and as time passes, the tenseness in my arms fade.
“You look like you’ve had a hard day.” The girl sitting on the sofa beside me moves closer, so close her long, blonde hair drapes over my chest as she pushes me back into the chair and straddles me.
I know I shouldn’t be letting her do this, but it isn’t like I’m really doing anything. “You could say that,” I mutter.
“I could make things better for you.” Her fingers brush the side of my arm, and over my shoulders, trailing down my stomach when Toby’s nasally voice interrupts my thought process as he shouts in my ear. “Kingsley!”
I groan and drag my gaze up to his. He’s grinning, shaking his head. The girl’s fingers brush under my jaw as she pulls my head back to hers, and Toby’s voice fades to background noise. The girl is only centimeters from my face now. Her plump lips look so good. I’ve only been with Rebecca a year and I know she cheats on me, so I don’t know why I don’t just do it to her.
Thinking of the devil. The girl isn’t on my lap anymore. She’s flying halfway across the room. I jump to my feet and see Rebecca standing over the girl, who is now lying on the floor. One of her minions are scowling at me, and Suz is shaking her head.
I groan, run my hand down the side of my face, and mutter, “Rebecca.”
She doesn’t pay me any attention as she slaps the girl across the face. The girl cries out in pain and fear, and I feel somewhat guilty.
As she goes to do it again, I rush forward, grab her wrist and growl, “Rebecca.”
She hurls around towards me and snarls. “You fucking asshole!” She shoves me backward.
“I didn’t even do anything,” I say, and she knows it.
Toby steps in between us. “Bex. Bex, just chill.” He’s swaying from side to side as he attempts to be the mediator. He slurs again, “Bex, he didn’t do anything.”
She folds her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes on mine, and snaps. “It’s over.” She turns, grabs Toby by the face, and kisses him.
I shake my head then fall back into the sofa. When she pulls back and leaves him standing there like a stuffed chicken, his eyes wide, she glances at me and scowls again.
As soon as she’s gone, Toby looks to me and smiles. I don’t care. We always get into fights, but she’ll never actually end it. And I’m only with her now because of my dad, and if we’re honest, the sex.
“Man, you’ve got balls.” Cam hands me the joint. I take a swig of my drink and another puff before passing it to the guy next to me. The girl stands up from the ground, clasping her face, and moves towards me. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”
Cam laughs. “Oh, now, now, honey. Don’t get mad. You almost hooked up with the richest boy in town.”
Tears fill her eyes just before she turns and runs away. I tamp down the twinge of guilt. Rebecca is a bitch sometimes, and if I had to knock out each guy she hooked up with, heck, there’d be no one left.
Toby sits across from me. “How long do these fights last for?” His smile is widening by the second. “How long do I have?”
I laugh. “All the time in the world, bro. Go for it.”
“You’ve got a day before she comes crawling back. Or before he gets horny and goes crawling back.” Cam smacks me on the leg.
I don’t deny it. He’s right.
Cam lines the bench with powder then passes me a rolled up hundred dollar bill.
Maddison
“I want breakfast!”
“More, more.”
“Mama! Mama!”
Screams. Cries. Shouts.
“Shut up! Shut up! God, shut up. My fucking head hurts,” our foster mom, Angela, yells. No morning is a ‘normal’ one in this household. At least Darren can sleep through it all.
I walk into the small kitchen. My four younger foster siblings are running around like they’d just downed a pack of sugar, which wouldn’t have surprised me. Of course, Angela is sitting on her skinny ass at the dining table, guzzling a very black coffee.
“Finally,” she mutters, then stands and stumbles out of the kitchen. My youngest foster sister, Phoebe, clings to her leg, and I quickly scoop her up before she’s knocked to the ground by Angela’s foot. I don’t know how CPS allow these two people to take on so many kids. I’m sure they haven’t observed them because they are not equipped to be parents, that’s for sure.
“Maddyyy,” Phoebe squeals, wriggling around in my arms.
“Morning, Pugs.” I kiss her on her forehead then set her down, holding her by the shoulders until she gathers her balance and stumbles away.
“Who’s had breakfast?” I ask.
Tilly’s in the kitchen preparing her own. She’s nine years old but acts as though she’s twenty. I tug her long, light-brown braids as I pass her, and she snickers.
The rest of the kids are all under the age of seven. They run to my feet and wait impatiently like scavenging seagulls, pecking at my legs. I set out five bowls, filling each halfway with cereal and pour the milk in. One by one, I hand them out in return for a high five.
Some days I really wish I could call CPS and tell them the kids are always hungry, don’t have decent clothing or books for school because our foster parents are junkies. But I can’t do that. If I did, I’d be shipped off, and my scholarship to one of the best schools in the country would be useless, not to mention my chances of getting into Juilliard. I feel bad, real bad. But as soon as I get that scholarship to Juilliard, I’m going to call CPS. I won’t leave until I know they are safe and cared for, even if that means they’ll be split up. I have to do what’s best.
I slide ten bucks in Jack and Lucy’s pocket so they can buy something at the school cafeteria and leave a twenty on the bench under a note that says FOOD, and hope that Angela does the right thing for once. We’ve already eaten all of the food I got after selling that watch yesterday, which means I have to go out again, and soon.
I kiss them each on the forehead and feel the hole in my stomach expand as I leave them sitting on the sofa
watching television. I have to leave earlier than they do since my school isn’t in this area.
My best friend, well, only friend, Cynth, is leaning against the fence just outside our block of houses, oversized glasses disguising her face. I know exactly what that means—she had another big night. She holds two coffees and offers me one as a peace offering as soon as I reach her. I snatch it from her hands.
“Where were you the other night?” I snap.
She’s a mess. A literal fucking mess.
“You know, had to get my goods.” She winks, then brushes the strands of horribly-dyed orange hair out of her face. It isn’t just that she looks tragic, but she can’t stop jittering. Clearly, she’s wasted. She groans. “My head.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and pace ahead. “I thought you’d stopped.” She doesn’t say anything. I stop and look at her. “Cynth, you can’t do this anymore.”
“Oh, shut up, Madz. Just because you’ve found your savior in that fucking guitar thing, doesn’t mean I’ve been rescued from my problems.”
“I haven’t been rescued,” I mutter.
Her hands find her hips, and her lips purse into a fine line. “You can’t judge. You know what it’s like.” She steps towards me, leans forward and then a smile appears on her face. “Hypocrite.” She pokes her tongue out. Her emotions are flipping. “I was over at Lucas’. Sorry, you know how it is.”
I clench my fists. “Don’t give me that crap.” Ever since her mom died just over three years ago, things have spiraled, and quickly. I was told she was a straight-A student, class rep, quite mature for her age. But as time went on, I witnessed the downfall.
She gulps back her coffee and flashes me a grin. “I’m sorry.” The way her delicate features pull back into the most innocent expression has me softening. I sigh. I can’t deny how good it is to see her.
“I called you because I broke into someone’s house.”
“No! Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because you didn’t answer your phone!”
She hooks her arms in mine, chuckling. “Now, now,” she says, tapping my arm. “So, what’d you get?”
“Not much, I got caught.”
“No!” Her face brightens. “Tell me what happened.”
I shake my head and pick up our pace. “Nothing.”
She continues talking a million miles an hour but I ignore her because I know it’s the drugs talking. My school’s silhouette stands out as we near it.
She usually stops at the large front gates, making snarky remarks about each person that passes by, but today, she’s up ahead and taking the stairs two at a time.
I flick my gaze around our surroundings, wondering if anyone notices her being out of place, but not one person is looking her way.
“What are you doing?” I ask. She used to go to the public school a few blocks over before she was expelled a few months ago.
“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’ I’m going to school.” She winks.
I grab her by the wrist, and whisper heavily, “You . . . can’t.”
She snatches her hand back into her chest and laughs. I guess right now, she doesn’t care.
“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer. No one will know.”
Yeah right, if I stood out, she was going to poke them in the eye.
“God, this school is fucking fancy, isn’t it? Look at all those stuck up b—” I jump forward, and cover her mouth with my hand. Okay, she has to go. People are looking now.
“Shut up,” I say under my breath, dragging her back down the steps and at least a hundred yards down the street until I think it’s safe enough to release her. She gasps for air, then flicks her hair over her shoulder, and leans against the fence. “I was just having a little fun.”
“Yeah, well, it won’t be fun when I’m expelled, too.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, grow some balls, Maddy.”
“Okay, Cynth. You need to go home and sober up.” She looks over her shoulder, back towards my school. I don’t think I’m getting through to her. I growl, “I mean it. I’ll come see you tonight, after practice.”
She huffs, pushes herself off the fence, and looks back at me. “Fine.” She engulfs me in one of her hugs. No matter what, we can’t be mad at each other. When her mom overdosed on drugs, I was at her house because Darren, my foster father, was her supplier. I was there for her, and every day since, it has gone both ways.
“Be careful,” I say. She nods into my hair, then pulls back and kisses my cheek.
She turns and heads home. I hope. I can’t skip school to make sure, and that paranoid thought is going to eat away at me all day.
I make my way back to school, and head into my math class, where I sit in my usual seat, two rows from the back of the room. I don’t save a seat for anyone, and no one saves one for me. I have no friends here. It’s not just because I’m an outcast and all the rich kids are totally different to me, but whatever spare time I have, I focus on the cello. Lunch, after school, evenings and weekends. I don’t have time for friends, except for Cynth, and the only time we really spend together is when she joins me in my extracurricular activities, and I doubt any pompous girls want to run around breaking into houses in their spare time.
I watch person after person enter the room, and then my eyes linger on one.
Kingsley.
I’m sure I’m not the only one staring at him, but his gaze merely skims my own and then goes back to his stuck-up girlfriend beside him. Of course. I roll my eyes.
Mr. Thomson’s arrival couldn’t come any sooner. I sit back in my seat, trying to pay attention to what he’s saying when my mind drifts off to a song I’ve been practicing.
I know Mr. Barner doesn’t have a class, so I sneak in and quietly shut the door behind me. I’m meant to be in English. I’m failing and I need all the extra credit I can get, but I need to clear my head.
I retrieve my cello from behind his desk, sit in my usual seat in the corner of the room and play.
I become lost in the music, as I do every time.
I don’t know how long I’ve been gone for, but a firm voice pulls me back to reality. “Maddison, what are you doing in here?”
I slowly open my eyes. The tense muscles in my arms have eased, and my anger has dissipated. I glance at the clock above Mr. Barner’s desk.
11:05 A.M. Shit. I’ve skipped my entire class.
“I lost track of time.”
His round eyes narrow as he stares at me from across the room. That simple gesture has the hairs on my arms standing on end. I don’t like it when he’s mad at me. “Yeah, sure you did,” he mutters.
He sits down, pulls out a pen and paper and waves his finger. “Come here.”
I shuffle through the desks quickly. “You’re lucky I like you, kid.” He looks up and smiles that crooked smile, and the tightness in my chest thaws. “This means you have to go to chemistry this afternoon.”
I groan. I hate that class. That’s why I chose it for my cello lessons. “But—”
“No buts, Maddison. Maybe you might think about that next time. Just maybe.”
I grimace and begrudgingly take the note. “Thanks,” I say with far too much attitude.
“Uh-huh.” He breathes. “I’ll see you after school.”
I place the cello back in the cupboard just as the bell rings, and pace out of the room. The hallways are chaotic as usual. All I want to do is go back and drift off to my world in the cello. I hunch my shoulders in and walk up alongside the lockers, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. However, for me, that just seems to be impossible.
“Get out the way, bitch,” a girl scowls at me as she bumps into me. I immediately take a deep breath, trying to restrain my temper. Ever since Mr. Barner sold me on the career I could have, managing my rage was the first thing that had to happen. Apparently.
I hate it. I hate standing back while they treat me like shit. They weren’t always so cocky, and when I step towards them with my fist
s clenched at my side, I can see the fear and memories flash through their minds. They quickly move out of my way.
I drop my note off at the office. Even the receptionist gives me the eye. Before I had Mr. Barner, they were like my only teachers. I had to sit in here all day, waiting to speak to the counselor and occasionally the principal.
I guess I should be thankful Mr. Barner had put his foot down, or just like Cynth, I would have been expelled, too.
Miss Skinner always makes us line up outside our chemistry classroom, and everything about it is cringe-worthy. The stupid bimbos are craving attention like usual, making a spectacle of themselves in front of the entire class. If Cynth went to this school, she’d tell them to shut it with her fist, but I guess that’s why she was expelled, and I bet she didn’t have anyone like Mr. Barner to look out for her.
As soon as we are allowed to enter, I make my way to the back of the room, sit at an empty desk and let my head fall into my arms, trying to tune out the noise.
When it finally subsides, I look up and am startled when I meet Kingsley’s gaze. He isn’t scowling at me, yet he isn’t smiling—he’s simply staring. The bass of my heart thrums a little lower, and I force myself to ignore him. So he decides to notice me when his girlfriend isn’t in the room? Dick.
“All right, people. I have graded your assessments. Well done. Most of your final exam will be based on this topic, however, it will cover representative elements of the periodic table and understanding atomic structure.” She starts handing out the papers, and the closer she gets to me, the more my palms sweat. I studied so much for this freaking test. If I wanted to get into Juilliard, I needed to have an A average, and currently, I’m a C+.
Sure enough like being hit in the face, the smack is solid and hollow.
A fucking C.
Why did going to Juilliard have to be such a rigmarole? I wasn’t going there to rant on about the periodic table. I’m going there to play the freaking cello. How is this even relevant?
I quickly shove the paper into my bag and slump back onto my desk.
Stolen Songs Page 2