by A. J. Downey
“Nox!” I said sharply, horrified and hoping this wasn’t how he’d grown up, but deep down, looking at the pain etched into every line of his face, looking at the well of deep pain in his eyes… somehow I knew it was.
“That doesn’t happen!” Sage said defiantly, but he looked scared. I wanted to agree, to tell him he was right and that nothing like that ever happened, but wasn’t it the exact thing I was terrified was going to happen to him?
I felt awful, I felt trapped; I felt like no matter what I had tried to do to get him gently through this, it wasn’t working. I felt like the last thing I wanted to do was to terrify him into behaving, believing wholeheartedly, that fear wasn’t how you should motivate or steer a child through life. However, I was at a crossroads here with my little brother. My way had, quite literally, lost him his best friend. I wasn’t sure how that would end up working out or if it would at all.
“Truth is best,” Nox murmured and I covered my face with my hands, scrubbing as if I could scrub all of this away.
“Nox isn’t lying, it does happen and I don’t want that for you. I want you to stay here, with me, I don’t want to lose the only family I have left. It’s just you and me now.”
“No, it’s not! And you know it!” Sage exploded and pushed off the couch. He went for the stairs and slammed up them; I closed my eyes and sighed.
“I’m not going to ask,” Nox said gently, “I’m around when you’re ready to talk.”
I nodded, grateful for that, because as soon as I told him about my mother, I was pretty certain he would walk away and I was growing to depend on him; on his emotional support. I stood up and he pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“For?”
“One last minute of closeness before the clock strikes pumpkin hour.”
Nox chuckled lightly and kissed the top of my head, “You’re welcome, Angel.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in his crisp, clean scent of man and leather before I had to let him go.
Chapter 11
Nox
“Dude, what the fuck are you doing? You’re gonna end up in jail and listed on some sex offender’s registry as a total pedo,” Rush said, dropping onto the couch in the media room next to me. I scowled at my twin.
“Fuck you. I am not,” I said, scoffing. Rush scowled right back.
“Man you had your tongue halfway down her throat in here last night, then the both of you disappeared.”
“Yeah, they were in his room with the door wide open, quit yer fuckin’ bitchin’. You ain’t his mom.” Duracell said from one of the recliners.
“No, I’m his fucking twin, asshat. Fuck you, mind your own business.” I had to laugh when Duracell flipped him the bird, saluted my brother with his beer and took a drink of it. Blue laughed silently from the other recliner at the opposite end of the couch from Cell. Those two were fuckin’ weird. None of us could tell if they had something going like Disney and Aaron, and whenever anyone brought it up, Cell typically flew off the handle about how he wasn’t some faggot. Confusing as fuck if you asked me, because short of holding hands and kissing, the two were inseparable and even slept in each other's room sometimes.
Rush was talking, droning on in one of his fucking lectures like he was somehow magically older or wiser, I cut him off with: “Motherfucker, you’re older than me by a few minutes. What the fuck do you know about it, anyways? I’m not going to do shit to put myself in any crosshairs. She’s a grown woman despite her age, and she knows what could happen. Chill the fuck out and mind your own business on this one.”
Rush pushed to his feet, expression stormy. “Fuck you, then. I’ll be in my shop,” he left out the media room and I followed him with my gaze, meeting Duracell’s half charmed smile.
“Admit it,” he said. “You hit that nubile teen pussy already.”
“Can’t admit to something that didn’t happen, bro.”
“You could,” he said, settling back, “but you’d be a liar. I would have fuckin’ hit it by now.”
“Yeah, but you have no limits, plus, we already have our sights set on someone,” Blue said softly and I startled, looking in his direction.
“Shit man, that’s the most I’ve heard outta you in months. Who is she?”
“No one,” Duracell grunted, “Blue doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
Blue rolled his eyes so hard he probably saw his own brain, and I chuckled. “Does that mean you two are some kind of a thing?
“Man, fuck that. Why everybody have to be accusing me of being gay and shit?”
Again Blue rolled his eyes and I laughed outright. The rest of the evening passed pretty peaceably. I kept a hand wrapped around my phone, waiting for it to go off, though. Finally, around nine o’clock, it did.
Maren: He still won’t talk to me. Won’t come out of his room, either.
Me: Let him sulk if he wants to. He doesn’t have to like it, he just has to put up with it, and do what u say for the next, what, seven years?
Maren: Ugh, don’t remind me… he’s not even a teenager yet. Eleven going on thirty.
Me: LOL how are u doing tho?
Maren: Okay, I guess. I miss you. It’s okay that I say that right? I mean, I don’t sound stupidly desperate, do I?
Me: No Angel, and I miss u 2.
Maren: God, sometimes I feel like such an immature little girl next to you.
Me: Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional.
Maren: LOL! That explains so much.
Me: U have school 2morrow, right?
Maren: *Sigh* Yes. Don’t remind me.
Me: Tough luck, baby. I just did. U should get some sleep.
Maren: I will.
Me: Now… not l8r.
Maren: Fine, I’m going to bed now.
Me: Sweet dreams.
Maren: If you’re in them, then yes.
Me: … :)
The girl sure did know how to give me a boner. Jesus.
Chapter 12
Maren
“Sage, come on! Stop playing around and get down here! You’ve already missed the bus and if I have to come up there one more time, I’m dragging you to school behind the car!” I shouted up the stairs and stopped only when my brother appeared at the top of them, dragging on his coat.
“I don’t want to take the bus anymore,” he said, sulking and I sighed and tried to count to ten before I said something unfortunate.
“We’ll talk about it tonight, over dinner,” I said.
“Yeah, right,” he said pushing past me and I just snapped.
“That’s it. Get in the car, now. I’m sick of this attitude problem of yours, Sage. Now move it. I’m not going to put my education on hold and be late because you refuse to act your age rather than your shoe size. This is getting past ridiculous. Honestly, what do you think Dad would say?”
Sage stopped cold and glared at me, but didn’t say a word; finally, he popped off at me with, “You’re a real bitch; you know that?”
“Not impressed. I get called worse on a daily basis at school, or did you forget that? Get. In. The. Car.” I turned him by his shoulders and gave him a shove in the direction of the garage and he went. We got in the car, tears stinging the backs of my eyes even though I wouldn’t let them out. Just like the assholes at school, I wouldn’t give Sage the satisfaction.
I backed us out of the garage and out of the driveway, making sure the garage door shut firmly behind us, the headlights beaming on its painted surface, before backing completely onto the street. I drove Sage to school, pulling up to the waiting line of cars. I’d barely made it off the street into the school’s driveway when Sage unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the passenger door.
“Do you have your key?” I demanded.
“Yeah, I’ll take the bus, whatever.” He slammed the car door so hard it rocked the vehicle on its frame and I sighed, already tired before my day could even really begin. I
drove myself to school in the early dawn gloom and barely made it before the bell. Shutting off in my assigned space and practically sprinting for the front door, my backpack bouncing hard enough against my back to almost knock the wind out of me.
Anxiety hummed through my veins and I thought of Nox. There was still so much we didn’t know about each other. Still so much I hid from him, afraid if he knew, that it would be too much… one of those things was my very-ex-boyfriend, Lucas Triggs.
“Maren! Heard you finally finished off your dad, the house is all yours now, huh?” he called from down the hallway to a course of masculine laughter. I knew it was going to be bad, but I managed to resist folding like cheap origami. Instead, I slipped into my class just as the bell rang its last and rushed over to my seat, taking it and digging in my book bag for my text.
I sat, cheeks stinging as I felt their eyes bore into me, their whispers and commentary filtering to me in snatches.
“Did she really kill her dad?”
“No, he’s been sick for a long time… then again, maybe she did, so she wouldn’t have to take care of him anymore.”
“I heard she’s trying to get her brother into foster care so she doesn’t have to take care of him anymore either.”
“Probably,” someone agreed.
“Isn’t her mom –”
“Alright! That’s enough!” Mr. Miller, the history teacher called out, drowning out the comments. “Open up to page two hundred and eighty-four, the French Revolution is upon us. Who can tell me..?”
I listened halfheartedly and tried to breathe around the crushing pain and anxiety weighting the center of my chest.
You knew it was going to be bad… I told myself, but still, nothing really prepares you, you know? Just when you think you’ve thought of just about everything they could come at you with, they come up with the one thing you didn’t think of. Or in this case, the one thing I figured they would have the decency not to pick on.
I swallowed hard and took a swig out of my water bottle to drown the threatening tears, concentrating on what the teacher was trying to teach and already bored to tears for having researched it all before on my own with my dad. I liked learning new things. I liked excelling at my studies, it was one of the few things that were uniquely mine that these bullying bastards couldn’t take from me.
“Maren, I know you know the answer to this, why don’t you enlighten the class seeing as no one else could be bothered to read the material,” Mr. Miller said, and his gaze was squarely on me. I licked my lips and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was a little lost inside my own head there for a second. Can you repeat the question?” I smoothed my lips together as the class erupted in light laughter at my expense.
Mr. Miller frowned, “Are you sure it isn’t too soon for you to come back, Maren?” he asked me and I nodded quickly.
“Yes, if you’ll just repeat the question, please…”
“Even the super nerd isn’t listening to you today, maybe it’s time you retire!” someone called from the back and Mr. Miller looked up.
“Or maybe it’s time you served a little detention Mr. Swanson; see me after class.”
A chorus of ‘Oooooo’s’ went around, low and sweeping, and more laughter ensued. I closed my eyes and counted to six before Mr. Miller repeated his question, “What was the ultimate cause of the French Revolution, Ms. Tracy?” he asked me.
“Ah, that would be a financial strain on the people from old debt and their continued witnessing of the upper, royal classes, wasteful expenditure, and excess.”
“Do you know the famous quote that attributed to the French People’s outrage?” he asked.
“Yes, when the people complained they were starving, that they couldn’t even afford a loaf of bread, the queen, Marie Antoinette, is quoted as saying ‘then let them eat cake!’ though it has never been proven that she actually said those exact words.”
“Very good. Thank you, Maren.”
“Yeah, Maren. What would he ever do without you?” one of the girls mocked in a voice where you could just hear her rolling her eyes. Chelsea Day was a cheerleader and my very ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend. She was welcome to him.
“Likely I would feel as if I were a complete failure as an instructor, such as I do in your case, Ms. Day,” Mr. Miller quipped to a round of laughter.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Google it,” he said with a smile and I felt myself sink lower in my chair. Likely her embarrassment would translate, somehow, into being my fault. It always did. I still couldn’t follow her logic on that one, but she did a superb job of making me pay for her mistakes.
The day just dragged, the insults and comments about murdering my sick father kept coming and by the time the last bell rang I was mentally and emotionally exhausted but the day, the day wasn’t done with me yet. I got into my car, turned the key, and click.
“No!” I moaned and put my forehead against the steering wheel, “Why?” I cried to no one in particular.
I got out of the car and closed the door, pulling my phone from my pocket. I sadly, only had one person I could call and he, thankfully, picked up on the second ring.
“Hey Angel, good timing, I have about two more minutes before my next client shows.” I felt my shoulders slump. “How was school?” he asked.
“It would be better if I hadn’t left my lights on… my car is dead,” I told him sheepishly.
“Ooo!” I heard him suck in a breath between his teeth, “I can’t come, I have a client, uh – hold that thought. I’ll call you or text you right back. It’ll be okay.”
I jumped and yelped, a glass bottle shattering at my feet. Lucas, leaning out the passenger side of his best friend’s car as they zoomed by, shouted, “I’m going to make you suck my dick, you murdering whore!” The boys laughed and peeled out and I pressed a hand to my chest, waiting for my heart to calm down.
There were several heartbeats of silence on the other end of the line and Nox asked calmly, “Maren, who was that?”
“No one,” I said. “It was nothing.”
“Right, I’m going to go and call in a favor, you get in your car and lock your doors. I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay.”
“And Maren?”
“Yes?”
“We’ll talk about why you just lied to me a little while later, alright?”
I shut my car door and locked it, “Yes, alright,” I said quietly; guiltily.
“Be right back,” he promised and ended the call. I watched the minutes tick by, all three of them, and my phone lit up with Nox calling again. I answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“My brother is leaving the garage now, he’ll be there in a few to give you a jump. Okay?”
“Okay, thank you. I’m so sorry for being an inconvenience, Nox –”
“Hey, no, none of that, Baby. Okay? Everything is going to be fine, it’s what I signed up for, remember?”
“Okay,” I murmured.
“I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tonight.”
“Right, um, I’m supposed to have a talk with Sage, maybe tonight isn’t the best. As it is, I need to call him.”
“We’ll talk about it when I get off work.”
“Okay.”
“Hi Jennifer, I’ll be right with you, two seconds I promise,” I heard him say, his voice a little distant as he pulled the phone away from his mouth.
“I’ll talk to you later, you’d better go,” I said before he could say anything.
“Later, I promise.”
He ended the call and I huddled in my dad’s old car, one of the many things I inherited and tried to keep warm. It was the reason I’d stepped out. It was cold outside, but the sun was shining and when I stood in it, it was at least marginally warmer. I waited for Rush to get here and when I heard the rumble of a motorcycle, I looked up and this way and that.
He pulled up next to my car, b
ut it wasn’t Rush on the bike. I got out and Archer pulled the thick scarf off from around his face and the sunglasses off from over his eyes. He took the time to take off his helmet, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I forgot to turn off my headlights this morning,” I said sheepishly, “I was running late.”
“Should have left earlier,” Archer grunted, swinging a leg over his bike and standing. He went to the back of his bike and one of the saddle bags, unbuckling it.
“It was my brother, he missed the bus and was dragging his feet,” I explained.
“Should have got ‘im by the ear, showed him who's boss.”
“Um, I’d rather he not be put into foster care,” I said laughing uncomfortably.
Archer grunted, “I can agree with you there. Pop the hood for me, Jailbait.”
I blushed at the awful nickname and did as he asked. He pulled a jumper box out of his saddlebag and went to the front of my car, lifting the hood and hooking it to my battery with the giant clips.
“Turn it over,” he ordered and I did, the car was sluggish but kicked over.
I got out, “Thank you so –”
“Maren, are you alright?” I turned to Mr. Hunter, our school’s vice principal making his way towards me.
“She’s fine,” Archer declared, dropping the hood with a clang. He picked up the jumper box and put the clips back into their housing.
“If it’s all the same, I would like to hear as much from my student.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Hunter. Archer is a friend,” I said.
“How do you know each other exactly?”
“She doesn’t know me, she knows my little brother.”