by Danae Ayusso
Holy shit. This is the greatest fucking thing ever! You can cry. I’m crying too. More!
Price watched me with a small smile on his face.
“You don’t want one, right?” I asked, clenching the bag and protectively holding it to my chest.
He softly chuckled, shaking his head, and ignored the tear that rolled down his stubble-roughened cheek. “No, they’re all yours.”
I will bite you if you even think of sharing these. They are ours!
“Next time, if you like, you can come with me,” he said. “We can have un café crème with pastries on the patio, just the two of us,” he said, looking from me to over my shoulder.
I nodded. “Sounds like a date,” I said before shoving another pastry in my mouth. “These are insanely good,” I mumbled, trying to steal his attention.
Price offered a smile, nodding. “The best in Montana, by far,” he agreed, looking at me. “Are you okay?”
Again, I nodded, shoving the rest of the croissant in my hand in my mouth. “I talked it out and am okay. You scared me, but it wasn’t because you lost your temper with me. It was because you lost your temper in general. I didn’t think or realize you had one. I have a temper,” I tried to explain, talking with my mouth full. “For the longest time I couldn’t figure out where it came from, but now I know and it makes me feel like your daughter.”
Price’s tight expression softened and tears flooded his eyes.
“Besides, I’m sure you’ll get all kinds of calls from school about your daughter smacking the hell out of someone or going ghetto fabulous, as Ellie calls it.”
He laughed, nodding his agreement. “As long as it’s self-defense, you have my blessing to their kick ass.”
“Thanks!” I beamed with a face-consuming smile before shoving another buttery, flaky croissant in my mouth.
“Anything for you, Mikhail,” he reminded me, in case I had forgotten. “I am sorry I scared you.”
“Price, I told you, it’s not a big deal,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “I talked about it and was able to put it into perspective. Sure, it surprised me, but I’m somewhat glad you have it. So many times, because of Mom’s indifference and inability to give a damn about anyone but her, no one fought for me, didn’t stand up for me. You having a temper and flying off the handle about something you thought was affecting me, targeting or something, actually makes me feel good and it tells me, in a roundabout way, that you’ll never let anyone hurt me like that again.”
“They won’t,” he promised, his hands balled into fists.
I smiled, wiping away the tears staining my cheeks. “I know. That… It put into perspective for me and made me realize that we’re more alike than I thought possible, more than the genius or shapes of our faces and mouths,” I said with a chuckle and he nodded. “There’s nothing I’d change about you, Price, and even the things that you’ve hidden or tried to hide from me, don’t freak me out and I’m oddly okay with.”
Price wiped the tears rolling down his cheeks away with the back of his hand. “Was it speaking with Simian?”
I snorted. “No. He went on and on about the old chubbies he’s thrown it in,” I said, making a face. “It was my self-therapy that helped me work it out. I know you question my sanity when I mention him, even if you don’t say anything, but it’s like I told you before,” I tried to explain, “he’s a blanky that I can’t give up just yet. Where therapists and all others have failed, he’s succeeded by just being there and listening. I don’t know if I could have done this without that,” I admitted.
To my surprise, Price nodded. “If you didn’t have him, if he was no longer there,” he clarified and I glared at him, “would you be okay?”
“Why are you asking?” I demanded, an unsettling feeling gathering in my stomach. “Are you trying to figure out how to take him from me? He’s mine! Justice doesn’t talk to me like he does, and she won’t! Watching you and Simian together, even with Cinder Dick and Nick, that’s the relationship I have with her. She’s the annoying fucking sister I never had! But him, he’s different. It doesn’t matter what form he’s in—sexy muscular flirting Frenchman or shaggy haired little boy with dimples—no one talks to me as he does, makes me feel how he does, and makes me feel as if I’m sane for the first time in my life! Never have I felt a shred of sanity until I saw his smile.”
Price pulled the Band-Aid off. I was wondering when it’d happen, I just hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“I understand I sound insane,” I said, slightly more composed, wiping away the tears staining my cheeks. “I wouldn’t fault you for wanting to ask for a refund or to have me fitted for a straightjacket. I get it. I sound completely insane. But for just a moment, just a few hours a day in the morning, when I’m sitting here talking to him, I feel not so fucking crazy. Does that make me even crazier?” I rhetorically asked.
“Not in the least,” Price assured me.
My delusion appeared next to Price, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his attention on me.
Might as well tell him while I’m at it.
“Even if you’re just in my head, I need that right now,” I said, speaking to my Frenchman. “If I didn’t have that, I would have ran,” I informed them both. “Haunted house that moves around, dumping me in random rooms, dogs that move like ninjas and possess a higher level of intelligence, giant horses that move faster than anything I’ve ever seen before, little snooty demonic bitches in the woods trying to get me to play with them… None of that terrifies me more than losing the only sense of sanity I have, which is ironic since it’s insanity in its purest and more terrifying form that I need.” I looked to Price. “Please don’t take him from me. I can’t handle that. My entire life I’ve had everything taken from me, even the little things that meant very little to no one else, they took because they could. Please don’t take him from me, too.”
Now I was in full out bitch mode and was sobbing, honest to God sobbing.
“Au long aller, peti fardeau pèse,” I stammered, pleading with them.
Price’s eyes widened. “On a lengthy journey even a small burden weighs,” he translated with a sad smile. “As much as I hate to admit, sometimes those we need are the very last person you can afford to have in your life. But without them, you don’t have a life. I understand better than you could imagine, Mikhail.”
My Frenchman looked between Price and I before he disappeared in blur of movement.
“When you’ve finished with your pastries, and please refrain from eating the bag,” he added with a forced chuckle, “we’ll meet the principal at the high school. School will start sooner than you know, and that, I fear will be a test of all of our mental well-being.”
I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. “What do you mean?” I sniveled.
“She gave me a call while I waited for your pastries. Principal Wallace can’t wait to meet you.”
I groaned. “I don’t think taking me in public is a good idea, especially since I just went crazy bitch on you. Can’t we just hang out and chill on the couch and start binging on Oz or Prison Break or something?” I whined.
Price shook his head, getting to his feet. “No, not this time. Besides, Kieran wants to play dress up with you when we get back. That means you’ll have to unpack the boxes you’ve been stashing in your closet in hopes of them going away.”
Damn it. They’re plotting against me, I just know it.
Justice, what do you think?
Price stood there looking down at me.
“Justice?” I whispered.
“Mikhail, what’s wrong?” Price asked, concern flooding his face.
I shook my head. “Maybe she’s in a French pastry induced coma and is sleeping it off,” I said with a shrug before getting to my feet. “Or she’s pissed at me for telling you of just how very deep my lack of mental well-being goes. She’s been telling me to keep that to myself for obvious reasons.”
Price nodded. “What does she think of your Frenchma
n?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
That was a good question.
“She hadn’t said,” I admitted, walking back towards the house with him. “Justice acts as if I’m crazy when I bring him up, which is saying a lot for the crazy to call the one they’re squatting in crazy… Yeah, this is totally professional help worthy,” I complained, causing him to chuckle. “I’m sorry for going off on you, especially after you brought me Heaven in a bag.”
“It’s okay,” he assured me, walking with his hands in his pockets. “You needed to vent, to say aloud what you’ve been keeping to yourself. As much as you’ve told me, over and over again, I didn’t understand or realize the depth of your need for him. I understand that now, and forever will I be indebted to him.”
Uh, weird thing to say.
“You realize you’re talking about a delusion in your daughter’s mind, right?” I asked, in case he forgot.
He chuckled, once, humorlessly. “You’d be surprised, Mikhail,” he said so softly I strained to hear him. “Take a shower and change, you don’t need to wear anything special, and I’ll meet you in the living room after I shower and make a couple of phone calls.”
I was getting that weird vibe from him again.
“Did you need to talk about it?” I asked.
Price smiled. “No, you’ve done more than enough talking for the both of us. You’ve put things into perspective for me. Thank you for letting me in, for opening up and venting. You’re much like your stubborn father when it comes to trying to deal with everything on your own, our own, and opening up doesn’t come easy for those like us. Bottling it up, as we do, usually results in losing our tempers, which can be extremely dangerous.”
It isn’t that bad. So what? Some hoodrat gets her ass handed to her and her weave ripped out, big deal. Shit, the last bitch that stepped up to us I strangled with her weave. Remember that? Oh that shit was hilarious.
It was mildly amusing.
It was hilarious and you know it was. Blue Boy was dying over it… Sorry.
“Mikhail?” Price asked, gently shaking my shoulder.
I looked around, confused.
We were standing on the front porch.
How did we get here so quickly?
Uh, I was talking with Daddy.
“What’d you and Justice talk about?” I demanded.
Price shook his head with a small smile. “Croissants and how she’d, I believe she worded it, cut a bitch for touching her French shit.”
The way he said it caused me to roar with laughter.
“Yes, she is amusing in ways that are criminal, but she’s like Simian and harmless,” he informed me, opening the front door.
I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
“Good to know,” I said, wiping the tears away. “I’ll meet you in the living room after I shower and change.”
He nodded and watched me take the stairs two at a time.
Chapter Sixteen
High School Intake
“Are you okay?” Shep asked from the seat next to me in the waiting room at the high school.
I had asked him to join us so he could give me a tour of the school, if possible, and tell me the rules of Montana schooling. In Philly, it was duck bullets, dodge bangers, keep your eyes down, don’t talk, don’t smile…don’t even breathe! I was hoping Montana schools were different, and when I explained that to Shep, he laughed, thinking I was kidding. Then he was in shock that I was serious.
It was sad, and amusing at the same time on a sick level, that Shep hadn’t grasped just how dark where I came from was. He doesn’t understand why I tear up when Ellie and Nick watch the news if I’m in the room and the news is talking about murders, serial rapists, child molestation, and random acts of violence…
It hits close to home for me because I lived it, saw it every day, and been subjected to such things.
Shep was trying though, and I had to give him credit for that.
“Just nervous,” I said, both my knees bouncing. “I feel like I’m in intake at juvie. The walls are the same color and the chairs just as uncomfortable. The only thing missing are the shackles and green jumpsuits.”
He chuckled.
Again, he thinks I’m kidding but I’m not.
“It’s not that bad, really,” Shep said, trying to distract me while Price was talking to the principal in her office. “I’m sure you’ll test out of school, which means you’ll be able to take whatever classes you want really. I like metal shop and wood shop, it’s a combo class after flesh hour in the morning. They only have it first semester because of funding. Gym you’ll have to take because you can’t test out of that and two credits are required, but I’m sure Price is fighting that out with Principal Wallace now.”
This doesn’t sound so bad.
“What other classes do you take?” I asked, looking around the small area.
Shep got to his feet. “Come on,” he said, heading for the door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, following him.
“You’re getting antsy in there and it’s making me nervous,” he said. “Personally, I’ve only been to the office once after getting into it with Paul my freshman year. Ellie and Simian have a bet going on how many times you’ll be in the principal’s office this year.”
Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they?
“My money’s on at least a dozen,” I said.
Shep chuckled. “I put my money on thirteen,” he teased with a wink.
For nearly an hour, we walked around the hallways of the empty school. It was rather basic and almost insultingly simplistic. I wasn’t sure why, but I had expected something amazing and spectacular since it wasn’t in the hood. Sure, from what I saw of the schools in Philly, the lockers were nicely painted navy, the walls are white and gray with navy and silver accents; the school colors. The Copperhead was the mascots, not that I had seen a copperhead in person before, but I assumed they were local animals since it was the mascot of the Jr/Sr high school. The two-story with a daylight basement building was updated and clean, surprisingly modern for the small touristy town it was in the middle of. It consumed the corner of Main Street and was surrounded by churches on all sides.
I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, but it didn’t give me a good feeling when it came to the students that went to those churches and how they’d feel about the street kid from North Philly that was a loud and proud atheist.
A recessed display case of trophies by the cafeteria pulled my attention. “Three time state champions,” I whispered, looking over the most recent state titles. “The Copperheads are really into wrestling, huh?”
Shep joined me and shrugged. “If you’ve seen our football team you’d understand. Wrestling, baseball, and soccer are the only things we’re good in, apparently. I think Kenyan is to credit for wrestling and Price for soccer though… The coaches.”
I nodded my understanding. “How do you get on a team?” I asked.
“You try out, I guess. Fall sports are harder to get on since you weren’t here last year to try out, unofficially, and as Coen and Jaylon found out,” he said, motioning towards the plaques on the walls above the doors to the cafeteria, “they don’t take kindly to outsiders.”
The area he was pointing at was filled with plagues with a picture of a wrestler on it with their name, weight class, and year for the title they took.
“You’re a wrestler?” I mumbled, noticing Shep’s picture.
He nodded.
“Interesting,” I commented to myself, looking at the other pictures.
Next to Shep’s three state championship plague were two others with space for a third that was apparently missing. The next two weight classes up from Shep pictured stone-faced men that looked as if they could be fraternal twins in wrestling singlets that showed their muscular bodies, a state title noted under each of their pictures.
“Cullens?” I mumbled. “Do they sparkle?” I asked.
Shep chuckled. “No, not t
hat I’m aware of. They’re good guys, funny, but their sister is a real piece of work. Cheerleader with a chip on her shoulder that thinks she walks on water. In the summer and spring, she plays softball and is good… They’re from Texas,” he said as if that explained it all.
Texans love their football, cheerleading, and softball.
Oh, okay. I’m scared to know how you know that.
Olympics, remember? Nearly everyone on the Team USA softball team was from Texas. That mean looking one is kind of cute. Jaylon Cullens… Hmmm.
Ew, well, kind of but ew. Way too tan.
It’s a Texas thing, I’m sure.
“Mikey?” Shep asked, waving his hand in front of my face.
“Huh?”
“You okay?” he asked, motioning back the way we had come.
I nodded. “Yeah, just trying to take it all in while keeping an open mind. That’s all. What’s with the missing one?” I asked, looking back to the plagues.
“Random act of vandalism,” he said in a clipped tone.
“Oh, okay,” I said with a yawn.
Shep forced a smile. “Tired?”
I nodded. “I didn’t get much sleep, and breakfast with Simian when he’s hitting on a large waitress that’s older than Grams tends to take a lot out of a girl.”
He laughed. “Yeah, Birdie really likes him and he rather enjoys her cooking after… You know,” he said, making a face and I shivered. “I’m glad you’re giving high school a shot, Mikey. It’ll be nice having a friend to hang out with.”
What a sad, sad little puppy.
Shut up! It isn’t as if we have any friends here.
True.
“Thanks for coming with us, Shep,” I said. “You’ve helped to keep me from saying fuck it and running while Price’s back is turned.”
He chuckled. “Price is pretty fast so you’d have to run really, really fast to get away,” he teased with a wink.
“Challenging me?” I teased, softly knocking into him and he smiled wide.
When we race through the pastures, Shep’s yet to beat me. He can keep up but he can’t kick it in at the end to push past me. That doesn’t stop him from trying though and I can appreciate that type of drive.