Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1)

by Marita A. Hansen

  Having had enough of his disruption, I returned my attention to the class, saying, “Get your pads out, spot quiz time.” Dante continued to laugh. I ignored him, counting the minutes until the bell rang.

  ***

  Despite his injuries, Dante turned up to detention with a Cheshire cat grin. I could tell he was imagining what had happened in my lounge, something I wished I could forget. He was probably also thinking he was going to get more like it, which I needed to quash straight away, even though he was making things hard for me, the way he was eyeing me up causing my cheeks to flare. Even bruised and battered he looked incredible, if anything, his roughed-up appearance was a turn-on rather than the turn-off I desperately needed. Because of it, I did my best to keep my eyes away from him, though—again—he was making it hard. He was constantly calling out, asking questions, pushing my patience to breaking point.

  “There’s no talking in detention,” I said for the third time, not looking up at him.

  “You’re talkin’,” he replied.

  “Don’t be smart,” I said, still focusing on my book, pretending to read it. Unlike Dante, the other kids in the room weren’t bothering me, Dante always having to be the exception.

  He sniggered. “I’m always smart.”

  I didn’t reply, willing him to be quiet. To my surprise he did, to the point I started to worry that he was getting up to mischief. I glanced up from my book, instantly regretting it. He was staring at me with hooded eyes, looking like he was imagining inappropriate things. Things that would land me in prison. A wicked grin quickly spread across his face at my attention. He flicked his tongue out, running it over his top lip slowly, causing another blush to hit my face.

  A female student started coughing and spluttering. She was sitting across the aisle from Dante, hitting her chest, trying to get herself under control. Dante sniggered, what he’d done without a doubt having caused her to choke.

  “Are you all right?” I glanced down at my roster to see her name. “Melanie?”

  “Yeah, just swallowed the wrong way,” she said, glancing at Dante. She was an odd-looking girl, with dyed black hair and eyes so big she reminded me of an anime character. She was also wearing a thick layer of foundation on her face, probably to hide her freckles, because her arms were covered with them.

  Dante ran his tongue over his lip again, this time directing it at her. She covered her face, causing Dante to laugh.

  “Dante, stop causing trouble,” I growled.

  “I didn’t do anything, miss,” he said, grinning at me.

  “You know what you did.”

  He shifted in his seat and cocked his head to the side. “And what wuz that?”

  “Keep your tongue in your mouth and your words to yourself.”

  “What are you gonna do if I don’t? I’m already in detention.”

  “I’ll give you another one.”

  “As long as you’re taking it, I’m fine with that.”

  “Well, I won’t be, so be quiet.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and slipped further under his desk, slouching in his chair, the amused look not leaving his face. Shaking my head at him, I returned my gaze to my book, vowing not to look up again until the hour was over. Luckily, he kept quiet, allowing me to keep my vow.

  When my watch finally beeped, I let out a sigh of relief and looked up, declaring, “Detention’s over, you can leave now. Place your papers in the red tray on my desk.”

  The students dropped their assignments in the tray, then disappeared out the door, leaving it banging in their wake. My focus shifted to Dante, who was still sitting in his chair. Noticing me looking, he pushed up and slowly headed down the aisle with his bag hooked over one shoulder. Each step made my heart pound louder, until I was sure he could hear it. But instead of stopping in front of me, he bypassed the assignment tray and sauntered towards the door, or half-sauntered, his limp still there. For a moment, I considered letting him walk through it, but instead called out, needing to make sure he kept what we’d done to himself.

  “Dante,” I said. “I told you I wanted to talk to you. We need to discuss about what happened at the tutor lesson.”

  “I know.” Despite his injuries, he dumped his bag on the floor and shoved a desk against the door.

  Alarmed, I shot up out of my chair. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Without a word, he turned around and stalked over to me, his limp gone along with his humour. Caught off guard, I backed up fast, almost falling over my chair. I went to yell at him, but he grabbed my face and planted his lips against mine.

  26

  DANTE

  I kissed Mrs. Hatton hard, letting out all the pent-up need I’d held onto since that night at her house. During my recovery, all I could think about was what would’ve happened if Hemi had been late or if I’d ignored his knocks. I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’d had hot women before, plenty of them, or maybe I did know: she made me fucking ache like hell, my cock already hard, so fucking hard I wanted to take her right there on the desk. I leaned her back against it, knocking her book off the top, along with a pencil holder, sending them crashing to the floor.

  A hard shove hit me in the torso. I let out a yelp and pulled away from Mrs. Hatton. Wincing, I lifted up my shirt and looked down at the bandages wrapped around my ribs. Bruises peeked out from beneath the muslin, my skin a colourful canvas of pain. My midsection had taken the brunt of Happy Meal’s attack, both front and back, so much so that I’d pissed blood.

  I ran a hand over where she’d hit me, relieved she hadn’t done more damage, her shove thankfully missing my fractured rib. “Whatcha do that for?” I said, looking back up at her, annoyed over what she’d done.

  Guilt coloured her expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for my bandages, stopping just shy of touching them.

  I dropped my shirt. “No, it hurt. I’m covered in bruises and have a fractured rib.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

  “You should be. Why’d ja hit me?”

  “I don’t want you touching me.”

  I stared at her for a moment, not understanding what she was playing at. “Then, what did’ja get me here for?” I finally asked.

  “Because you were cruel to Phelia,” she said.

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “This is a real detention?”

  “Yes.”

  “But...” I frowned. “I didn’t think you meant it. I thought you wanted me here so we could continue where we left off.”

  “What happened at my house was an accident.”

  I tensed at her words. “You don’t accidentally shove your hand down someone’s pants,” I snapped, hurt she was brushing it off.

  “I meant, I made a mistake. I should never have touched you. You’re fifteen years old, for goodness’ sake.”

  I scowled at her, annoyed she was bringing that up again. “I’ve fucked women older than you and they didn’t give a shit ’bout my age, so quit it with your goodness’ sakes crap. I told you age doesn’t matter.”

  “Age does matter, and those women shouldn’t have touched you, like I shouldn’t have. Not only that, you’re my pupil. The consequences would be severe if I got caught doing anything with you.”

  I sneered. “So, you’re chickenshit.”

  “Of course I am. What I did was wrong. I could get arrested for it.”

  I sniffed, thinking she was clueless if she thought others didn’t already know she was hot for me. Not only did she pay me too much attention during class, she was constantly sneaking sly glances at me. Maybe one or two would’ve gone unnoticed, but not the dozen she threw my way during a single lesson.

  “Then stop eyeballing me like you wanna ride my cock,” I said. “You were doin’ it all through English class.”

  “I was not!”

  “Liar. You even did it during detention.”

  Her expression turne
d angry. “I’m not the one lying here. You’re only seeing what you want. Plus, nothing I did with you was intentional. I never meant to hurt you. It’s just ... you’re extremely attractive and have a strong personality, one that overwhelms me at times.”

  My annoyance disappeared, what she’d said giving me hope. “So, you do like me?”

  “Yes, but again, I can’t do anything about it, unless I want to end up in jail.”

  “No one needs to know. I won’t say a word,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm, wanting to reassure her I wouldn’t blab.

  She jerked her arm away. “I still can’t do anything with you. It’s morally wrong, not only that, I’m married.”

  Beyond frustrated, I screwed my eyes shut.

  Her hand touched me tentatively. “Are you okay?”

  My eyes shot open. “No, I’m not!”

  She flinched.

  I continued, feeling my anger escalate, “I don’t understand you at all. You say you don’t want me touching you cos of your marriage, yet if it wuz so good you wouldn’t have kissed me. And if you were so fearful of prison you wouldn’t have stuck your hand down my pants.”

  She blanched at my last words. “I’ve never done anything like that before, never cheated or even considered cheating. This really isn’t like me, so please, don’t tell anyone about what we did.”

  “I already said I wouldn’t talk,” I snapped, working myself up more, “but I guess you’re just like Phelia. You don’t bloody listen. Actually, no, you’re more like my ex. Like her, you don’t give a shit ’bout me. All you care ’bout is keeping what we did a secret.”

  She dropped her gaze, looking guilty as sin, what I’d said obviously bang on.

  “She wuz sixteen while I wuz thirteen,” I continued, talking about the girl who’d broken my heart. “Like you, I wuz her dirty li’l secret, sumpthin’ to be ashamed of. She also told me to keep my mouth shut, sayin’ she could go to jail cos of me. She laid the guilt on my back, making me feel like I couldn’t tell anyone. Do ya know how it felt to see other guys hitting on her and not bein’ able to do a damn thing to stop ’em, cos I wuz too scared she’d go to jail?”

  I breathed out, remembering seeing my brother’s friend flirt with my ex right in front of me and the bitch not putting him in his place. Instead, she’d flirted back, telling me I was imagining it when I’d brought it up afterwards. But I hadn’t been imagining anything, because she dumped me a month later, running away from home with him. I’d heard they’d had a baby and were living in Australia.

  I lifted Mrs. Hatton’s chin, wanting her to look me in the eye.

  She jerked her head away. “Don’t,” she snapped.

  I jabbed a finger at her. “No, you don’t. You’re the exact same as that heartless bitch. You both kissed and groped me, then told me to shut my mouth. Well, fuck her and fuck you, I don’t deserve to be treated like that,” I spat, wondering why the chicks I wanted always made me feel like shit.

  “Calm down, Dante,” she said, now looking scared.

  “You don’t have a right to tell me to calm down!” I hollered, knowing I was losing my grip, but unable to reel myself in. “You women do whatever the fuck you like to me, but when I bite back you act like I’m a psycho. Well, I’ve had it, I’ve fuckin’ had it with bein’ used.” I spun on my heel and headed for the door.

  “Dante!” she called out.

  I spun back around. “What?!” I yelled, wanting to punch something so hard it hurt.

  Tears sprung forth, fear colouring her expression. “I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone. I could lose my job, my marriage; I could even lose my freedom. I understand you have every right to be mad at me, it is my fault, but it’s also my life you’re playing with. I’ll be ruined if you talk.”

  “How many times do I hafta tell you I won’t say a word?” I barked, glaring at her incredulously. The woman was so wrapped up in her fears she probably hadn’t heard half of what I’d said. “That’s why I mentioned my ex. I kept her secret, like I’ll keep yours, no matter how much you both make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

  “Dante, you’re not—”

  “Yes, I am! Otherwise you wouldn’t treat me this way!” I turned and shoved the desk aside, sending it crashing to the floor. Snatching up my bag, I yanked the door open and headed into the corridor, upset that this was the story of my life.

  Needing to lose this feeling, I pulled out my phone, intending on calling my cousin for some drugs, my stash having run out. I frowned down at the barrage of missed calls, hoping Sierra wasn’t bugging me again. The woman was still trying to entice me to whore myself, offering me more and more money. I’d ignored all her messages, deleting them as soon as I got them, not risking someone hearing them again.

  I went to delete the new ones, but stopped, realising the calls weren’t from her, all of them from Jasper. Instead of checking my voicemail, I texted through to him, having told him enough times I didn’t check voice messages unless I really had to, since it cost money.

  The door behind me opened, Mrs. Hatton appearing through it. She stopped at the sight of me. Not wanting to be anywhere near her, I started walking. She didn’t even bother to call after me, just proving how much she cared. Nada.

  My phone started ringing as I descended the staircase. I answered it, hearing Jasper’s voice coming through the line, saying my name.

  “Yeah, why you calling my cell, I told you—”

  “I did it! I fuckin’ did it!”

  I stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “Did what?”

  “Happy Meal. I killed him.”

  ***

  I got to Jasper’s house as fast as my aching body would allow me. His auntie answered the door, her smile wide, her face filled with hope as though I could possibly be there for her.

  “Hel—”

  I didn’t let her finish her hello. I rushed past her, taking to the staircase, ignoring the bitch as she yelled out my name. I banged on Jasper’s door, which opened almost immediately, all the doors in his house having internal locks.

  He flung the door open and yanked me inside, quickly locking the door behind us. Sweat beaded his brow, while his big body was shaking, but not from fear, excitement clearly the cause.

  I was shaking too, but from anger. “I told you I had things under control!” I yelled, what I’d done to Phelia for Happy Meal’s benefit. I’d purposely been cruel to her, attempting to drive her back into his arms.

  Jasper’s manic smile dropped. “You didn’t have shit under control! And you should be thanking me for saving your arse, not yelling at me.”

  “You didn’t hafta ki—” I cut myself off in time, almost saying kill him out loud. “You didn’t hafta do squat to him. I wuz helping the bastard get Phelia back. He said he’d back off if I did that.”

  Hurt crossed Jasper’s face. “So, you were willing to help him get her, but not me?”

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said, not interested in his stupid jealousy. “She’s his woman, not yours. She has no interest in you.”

  He sneered at me. “She wuz his woman, cos he won’t be fucking anyone now.” He prodded my chest. “And you’re gonna help me get her. I killed him for you, you owe me.”

  “I owe you?” I said in disbelief, the dumb bastard having thrown me under the bus. “I owe you shit! They’re gonna think I killed him, you fucktard!”

  He shoved me hard, knocking me into his bed, making me fall onto it.

  I sprung to my feet, getting my face in his. “Fuckin’ touch me again and I’ll hit back!” I yelled, not even caring about the pain spearing me, adrenaline taking over.

  Jasper glared at me. “Back off!”

  “Or what? You’ll hit me? Go for it, colour my face purple, so the cops have even more reason to suspect me, the Devil’s Crew too. And by some remote chance they don’t think it’s me, the DCs will still suspect our gang. Others will die cos of this.”

  “No, they won’t. I made it look like a
burglary gone wrong. I even capped his mother to—”

  My eyes widened. “Why?!”

  “—to make it look more real. I figured if I just topped Happy Meal it could look like you did it, but by taking her out, he no longer comes across as the target. I also stole loads of shit. Though, I got rid of it just in case the cops come knocking.”

  “Is that why you weren’t at maths? You were at Happy Meal’s house?”

  He nodded. “I shot his mother, got rid of the stuff I took, then went back to wait for Happy Meal to get home.” He smiled, looking like he’d enjoyed killing Happy Meal.

  I slumped down on his bed, absolutely stunned.

  “No one saw me,” he continued. “Their house backs onto the soccer fields, where those massive trees are. So, stop stressing. We’re in the clear.”

  I looked up at him. “It’s not that. It’s the fact you killed two people and you’re happy ’bout it.”

  His top lip pulled up into a sneer. “To get patched in, I had to snuff out that hot barmaid at the club, cos the Prez thought Karen wuz an undercover cop. So, I shot her in the head, then found out the next day she wuz innocent. I fuckin’ liked that chick, yet I had to blow her brains out, and you think I give a rat’s arse ’bout killing Happy Meal and his mum?” His sneer grew. “I fuckin’ liked it. No, I loved it. You should’ve seen his face when he saw his mum dead.” Jasper laughed, the sound cruel. “I got a boner when he started crying like a li’l baby. A full blown hard-on. If I could, I’d bring him back to life just to kill him again.”

  I gaped at him. I knew he had a dark side, but nothing like this, not even close.

  He continued, “I also enjoyed killing his bitch of a mother. My auntie told me what she did to my father. She used to date him when they were teenagers. She cheated on him with Happy Meal’s father, then set him up to get a beat down from the Devil’s Crew. She deserves to be six feet under just as much as Happy Meal. They’re exactly the same.”

  I put my hands to my head. “Does anyone know they’re dead?”