The N Word (Redefining Me #2)

by Michelle MacQueen

  And Nari had always been one of the weak.

  Needing something to take her mind off what happened and to shake the exhaustion from her body, she ducked behind a tall shelf. Her fingers skimmed the spines of the books until she came to her favorite author. David Eddings wrote tales of magic and adventure, stories she could lose herself in.

  As she pulled a book free, someone slammed into her, gripping her arms to keep her from falling.

  “Sorry,” he grumbled.

  Nari lifted her eyes to find Avery staring down at her, dark circles under his eyes. He ran a hand through his chestnut hair, messing it up more than it already was. They tried to step around each other at the same time and just ended up colliding again.

  “Nari.” He sighed, placing his large hands on her shoulders to hold her in place as he moved around her.

  Pity tugged at her, and she knew he’d hate it. But it wasn’t like she couldn’t help her feelings. “I didn’t know you knew where the library was.” It was meant to be a joke, and Nari winced when it came out sounding more like a condemnation.

  Avery’s brows tugged together. “We can’t all be geniuses like you, nerd.”

  He called her nerd even when they were friends, but back then, he said it with a great deal of affection. Now, it only felt like a label he stuck across her forehead like everyone else. She crossed her arms. “Oh, right, you have better things to do like messing up football plays.” She hated herself for the words as soon as they crossed her lips. In recent years, Avery brought out the worst in her. She didn’t know why.

  He tensed. “Yeah, okay.” He lowered his head and walked away.

  Nari turned, following him with her eyes. “Avery, wait.” He didn’t stop, so she jogged to his side, and they rounded the corner into a new row of books. “I’m sorry.”

  This row dead-ended into a concrete wall. Avery reached it and stopped when his phone dinged in his pocket. Pulling it free, he pressed his thumb against it to unlock the screen. Muttering a curse under his breath, he dropped down to sit with his back against the wall.

  Nari twisted the fingers of her free hand in the hem of her yellow shirt, curling the others around the handle of her lunch box. “Are you okay?”

  He threw his phone with another curse, and it skittered across the floor.

  “I’m going to take that as a no.” She leaned over to pick up his phone. The screen showed a picture obviously taken at lunch. Meghan sat in the lap of Andrew Bradley, broad-shouldered fullback of the football team. Their faces were plastered together in a kiss. The caption read “Are you going to let her show you up like this?”

  Nari glanced behind her, wondering if it was time to make her escape. She wasn’t the person Avery needed right now, but there was no one else. Releasing a breath, she sat on the ground facing him and held out his phone.

  He took it, his fingers grazing hers for a fraction of a second.

  “You can go.” He refused to look at her.

  “I know.” She rested her arms on her legs. “I thought you broke up with her.”

  Finally meeting her gaze, he shrugged. “I did.”

  “Well, whoever sent that to you obviously thought it would bother you.”

  “Everything bothers me today.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate. Nari knew one of the reasons Avery didn’t like her. She knew more about his life than anyone at school. He was revered as the son of an NFL player. His team followed his lead because of it. They didn’t hear his father screaming drunk every night. They’d never overheard his mom telling theirs of money problems. Although, she was pretty sure Avery didn’t know about those problems either.

  She stayed silent for a long moment, letting him think. He fiddled on his phone, his eyes going wide as he started a video one of his friends sent him. Nari froze when she heard her own voice. The video was of her rant only minutes ago.

  Avery lifted his eyes to hers. “Why would you defend me? I’m an asshole.”

  “Yes.” She huffed. “You are. And you’ve never had to live as the butt of your stupid clique’s jokes before. I have. My friends have. I didn’t do that for you.”

  That was only partially true. She’d felt sorry for him, but in that moment, she was also angry.

  “Good,” he grunted. “I don’t want to owe you anything.” Something sparked in his eyes. “Wait, I have an idea.”

  She groaned. “That sentence is how the world ends. With Avery St. Germaine actually having an original idea. Then we all explode.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. A true, body-shaking laugh.

  She raised a brow. “Go on. Tell me this brilliant idea.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. “See? I knew the world was ending.”

  “No, hear me out. If I send my friends a picture of you and me, it’ll get back to Meghan. After your little display at lunch, they’ll all believe it, and it would get them off my back.”

  Nari got to her feet. “You’re delusional. I wouldn’t kiss you if I was dying and you were the only cure.”

  He stood to face her. “That’s a little extreme.”

  “I’m an extreme person.”

  “Oh, I remember exactly who you are, Nari Won Song.”

  She hated that he knew her so well. They’d been friends for too long, but that was in the past. For two years now, he’d done nothing but cause all their friends pain. He’d become one of the people they once vowed never to be.

  Shoving her glasses up her nose, Nari turned.

  “Please.” Avery sounded so pathetic, but the idea was ridiculous.

  “I’m not going to let you use me to make your ex jealous. If you know me so well, you should have known not to ask.” She started walking away.

  “I just thought you’d want to help me like old times, Nari.”

  “We’re not friends, Avery. You’ve said it yourself. Many times.” She shook her head at the insanity of his suggestion.

  Kiss Avery? She wasn’t about to admit to the king of the jocks that she’d never kissed anyone before. At eighteen, she was a kissing virgin. But Avery St. Germaine was not going to be her first. She had better sense than that. She didn’t look back at him again as she made her way out of the library.

  The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. As Nari opened her locker and stuffed her lunch box inside, she realized she wasn’t tired anymore. The hilarious conversation with Avery energized her. She pulled out her pre-calculus book and slammed her locker, preparing herself for an hour of complete and utter torture. Despite her abysmal math grades, Nari’s parents insisted she take all the top math courses offered at Twin Rivers High.

  Sliding behind her desk at the back of the classroom, she watched Avery enter the room, joining his friends at the far end as if they hadn’t spent the entire lunch period ignoring him. She shook her head. How could they treat each other so poorly and then act like they were okay?

  Avery didn’t glance back at Nari once, and she didn’t know if she was grateful for his usual aloofness or annoyed that she once again ceased to exist.

  4

  Avery

  "Come on, Pop. Time to go." Avery nudged his father with the toe of his boot.

  "Get off me." Grayson shoved him away.

  Avery just stared at the lump of useless, drunken flesh that used to be his father.

  "You passed out on the garage floor again, Pop." Avery crouched beside him, cringing at the mess of vomit beneath him. If Grayson St. Germaine had passed out on his back, he'd probably be dead right now, asphyxiated on his own puke. He could see the headlines now. Former NFL all-star found dead on the floor of his own garage, swimming in a puddle of booze and vomit. "It's freezing out here, Pop, and I can't get my car out of the garage until you move. Or I could just run over your sorry ass," he added under his breath.

  "Worthless," Grayson muttered. "One son's a queer and the other's a worthless waste of time." Grayson struggled to sit up,
his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "You could have been just like your old man, you know? If you'd ever learned to throw the damn ball like I taught you...tried to teach you...you'd be well on your way to the NFL right now."

  "There he is, mean-drunk father of the year right here, ladies and gentlemen." Avery gripped his father around the waist and lifted him onto his feet—no small feat there. Grayson might be a drunken has-been, but he was still built like a brick wall. "You're looking real good too, Pop. Just the man I want to be when I'm all grown up."

  "You couldn't walk in my footsteps if you tried." Grayson swayed on his feet, oblivious of the example he was setting for his sons. "NFL Hall of Famer." He lifted his fist, shoving one of his Super Bowl rings in Avery’s face.

  "You can flash your former glory in my face all you want, Pop. It doesn't change the fact that it's all former. Look at you." Avery shook his head in disgust. "Do you even know how many times I’ve had to drag your ass back into the house and make sure you weren’t going to die before I could even leave for school? Do you know how often Mom has had to meet with the guidance counselor to explain why me and Nicky are always late?"

  "Bullshit." Grayson spat. "Don't blame your lazy habits on me, kid. I've seen you shirk your duties. Never practicing hard enough, never making team captain. You'll never amount to anything now. Not after that last game. You'll be lucky if you make it into a Southeastern Conference school now. The Big Ten are going to pull back their interest any day now."

  Avery managed to get his pop across the driveway and up the few steps to the back door. He’d already received tentative offers from several big football schools, but he didn’t expect his father to remember things like that in his state.

  "Football isn't everything, Pop." But in their family it was. Once upon a time, all Avery ever wanted was his father's approval. And he'd had it in spades. His father was always proud of both his sons. He was a great father, coach, and friend, and Avery worshiped the ground he walked on. But that father was long gone, replaced with this alcoholic shade of Avery's hero. Grayson's drinking spiraled out of control a few years ago, and now they lived in this awful world where Avery had to take care of his father at his worst. He tried so hard to shield his mother and Nicky from seeing him like this.

  He peeked into the kitchen, grateful Nicky wasn't downstairs yet.

  "It was all you were ever good at but never good enough." Grayson shook his head. "Just leave. I don't need your help." He tried to shrug away from Avery's hold, but he went down like a dead weight, pulling Avery with him.

  "Damn it, Pop. I don't have time for this." Avery cracked his fist against the expensive tiled kitchen floor in frustration. He rolled away from his father's reach and climbed to his feet. "I should just leave you here." But he found himself lifting his father's weight again and dragging him to the study to sleep it off on the couch. He didn't want his mother to have to deal with him when she came home. Avery left him on the sofa, retreating to the laundry room down the hall for a blanket and pillow.

  He returned to find his father drinking from a flask he'd found in the side table beside the couch. "Come on, Pop, haven't you had enough?" He pried the drink from his hand.

  "Give it back," Grayson slurred.

  "No." Avery easily pushed him back down on the couch, propping his feet up on the armrest. "Sleep." He pulled a trash can next to the sofa. "If you have to puke, get it in the can. And don't leave it for Mom to clean up later." Avery shoved the flask into his back pocket. Deep down, he knew his father was looking for an escape at the bottom of a bottle. He'd done that enough himself to know it felt good for a while. Until it didn't. It took losing his best friend to make Avery see he was heading down the same path as his father. And the last thing Avery ever wanted to be was Grayson St. Germaine. In the last two years, Avery rarely drank. He wasn't about to go down that road again. As tempting as it sometimes was.

  "If you're keeping my stash for yourself, at least bring me some water."

  "I have to get to school, Pop." Avery stood to leave.

  “Who's in the kitchen? Is that Nick?” Grayson leaned over the edge of the sofa to peer through the open door, and Avery thought he might murder his own father if he fell on the floor again. “Nicky!” Grayson shouted. “Bring your old man something to drink.”

  "We have to go, Pop. Just get some rest. I'll get your water." No matter how strained his relationship was with his brother, he still wanted to shield Nicky from seeing their father like this.

  "That little queer son of mine can at least get his old man something to drink." Grayson tried to sit up again.

  "Pop, seriously. Just stay down already." Avery paced to the doorway. "And if I hear you call Nicky that again, we're going to have words. When you're sober. If you can ever manage that long enough to have a conversation."

  "Here." Nicky tossed a bottle of water at their father. "Us queers are good for something, I guess." He turned on his heel and marched out the back door.

  “Aw, Nick-Nick don’t be so sensitive!” Grayson shouted after him.

  "Nicky, wait," Avery called, leaving their father to fend for himself. "It's just the booze talking." Avery slammed the door behind him, furious with his father for sucking the life out of this family and hurting everyone he once professed to love.

  Avery grabbed his keys and backpack and followed Nicky to the car. Nicky always rode to school with Avery, refusing to drive the so-called “chick magnet” his father bought for his sixteenth birthday. It was a flashy, bright yellow Chevy Camaro Nicky called the douche-mobile. Nicky never wanted to take anything from their pop if he could help it. He only drove the car when he went somewhere without Avery.

  Avery sighed. They were going to have to get their mom to call in an excuse for their tardiness again. Avery shot off a quick text to her and slid into the driver's seat. "He doesn't mean it."

  "Then why does he say it? The booze just removes the filter, Avery. It lets him say exactly what he thinks."

  "He's an asshole, Nicky. A lousy drunk, but somewhere inside, he's still the father we had growing up. And that father would die before he'd ever say those things to his sons." Avery didn't even know why he was defending him.

  "I guess you just have more good memories of him than I do." Nicky shrugged. "Come on, we're already late, and I'm supposed to have a test first period."

  Avery drove in silence, wishing he had the words his brother needed to hear. He didn't have them for himself either, but it gutted him to think of how much their father's words hurt Nicky.

  "Your mom called ahead." Mrs. Hildebrand raised her hand to stall Avery's excuses.

  "Sorry we're late again," Nicky said, turning on the charm.

  "I swear you two could win an award for the most excused tardies. What was it this morning? Your mom said the dog was sick?" She quirked a brow at them.

  "Yeah, the dog," Avery said, trying not to roll his eyes.

  "Poor thing was puking everywhere, we just got her to the vet and came right to school." Nicky went on, babbling about a dog they didn't even have. Mom must really be running out of excuses if she'd resorted to making up blatant lies to cover the real reason they were always late.

  "Oh, Avery," Mrs. Hildebrand called him back as he was about to leave for first period. "You're going on the senior ski trip, aren't you?"

  "Yes, ma'am." He was looking forward to spending a long weekend away from home, hanging out with his friends...and avoiding Meghan now that he'd dumped her.

  "Tell your mom you need to pay by this week to secure your reservations."

  "I can pay now." Avery fished his wallet out of his back pocket. Oh shit! The flask was still there. He slid his debit card across the counter, not even glancing at the invoice she'd printed for him. It didn't matter the cost. He'd pay just about anything for a chance to get away.

  "Funny." Mrs. Hildebrand frowned. "The card declined."

  "What?" Avery wasn't even sure that was possible. "Can you run it again?"

  "I di
d, three times. Just talk to your mom this afternoon, and bring your payment in before the end of the week."

  "Sure, okay." Avery nodded, embarrassed. He felt like a fool. His parents put money in his account every month, and there was always more than enough to pay for the things he needed. Maybe Mom just forgot I needed extra this month?

  Avery left the office and waved at Principal Stevens on his way to the bathroom to dump the contents of the flask. The last thing he needed was to be caught with alcohol at school when he didn't even drink the stuff. Mrs. Stevens would expel him without batting an eyelash.

  Avery shoved through the doorway, expecting the bathroom to be empty, but he heard voices coming from the last stall.

  "No, man, Alisha should be number eight, and Maggie’s number four. Read the stupid list and hurry up."

  Avery rolled his eyes. He'd spent a good Saturday afternoon scrubbing the bathroom walls with Peyton and Cameron over a month ago. Mrs. Stevens had given them Saturday detention for fighting in the hall—at least that was why he and Cam were there. Peyton was there for cussing out the whole school. The boys’ bathroom was the worst. He'd tried to hide it from Peyton, but she'd seen the Twin Rivers High lists. The ones scribbled on the walls of the handicap stall, ranking the girls from each year from the most beautiful to ugliest. He and Cam got an earful from Peyton about that. Even though it wasn't like either one of them wrote the damn lists. It was a stupid tradition, but Peyton was right; the girls on that wall didn't deserve it—including Peyton who showed up on the list twice.

  He cringed at the memory of seeing his own girlfriend at the top of the list. At the time, it hadn't bothered him too much. It was juvenile and no one cared, but Nari was also on the list as the hot nerd—and right now, that really pissed him off for reasons he wasn't even sure of.

  Avery ducked into the first stall and dumped the flask, flushing the toilet and shoving the empty container to the bottom of his backpack.