Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2)

by Blake Blessing

  Rhys started to say something, probably to tell his dad no lawsuit, but I jammed my elbow in his stomach.

  “What about the arrest, Mr. Bennet?”

  He went to the cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch as he answered. “The attorneys will handle that too. For as much as we pay them, this should all be cleared up by Monday.”

  “That’s great to hear. Thank you, Mr. Bennet.” It seared the back of my throat to be so nice to this egotistical adulterer, but it was necessary. I gripped Rhys’ shirt and started discreetly tugging him out of the room. We went two feet before vicious pounding on the front door threatened to break it down.

  “What the hell.” Rhys mumbled under his breath as his long strides carried him straight to their elegant front door.

  I didn’t need to ask why he said that. Through the small panes of clear glass, Dad was using both fists to beat down the door.

  “Mr. Scott. What’s wrong with you?” Rhys shouted. He was calm in the face of so much, but my frenzied dad on his doorstep wasn’t one of them.

  Dad shoved passed Rhys and headed straight for the kitchen, almost as if he knew that’s where he would find Mr. Bennet. Gross. It was awkward to be in the same room with both of them.

  “Stan. Stan. She’s gone.” Dad buried his hands in the lapels of Mr. Bennet’s jacket with all the familiarity of a lover.

  “What?” Stan yelled. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  Then it slapped me in the face. She. There was only one she Dad would be going crazy over. And it wasn’t me.

  “Dead?”

  I didn’t love her like a daughter should love her mother, but I didn’t want her dead.

  “No! She’s gone. She’s taken all of her stuff and cleared out our bank account. She’s gone.” Dad dropped his forehead to Mr. Bennet’s chest.

  I grabbed Rhys’ hand and sprinted out the front door, barreling across their immaculate lawn to my house. Rhys at least followed me without complaint.

  My own front door was standing wide open. We ran through and I skidded to a halt. Our homey décor was the same. The standard family photos in the hall were still up. Everything looked the same. I went to my parent’s bedroom, looking for proof that what Dad said was true. It was. Men’s clothes were strewn all over the place and many articles of clothing were shredded. Mother Dearest got a little revenge before she left. His cologne was smashed in their master bath. Shaving gel was smeared all over the mirror.

  But there were no feminine items left in the room. All of my mother’s things were really gone.

  “Astrid, are you okay?” Rhys swept my hair over my shoulder. His skin didn’t even touch mine, but somehow the gesture was more intimate than any kisses we’d shared.

  “I don’t know. I think I am.”

  “She was horrible to you. This is a good thing.”

  I turned and tilted my face up to his. “Is it? Does it make me a bad person that I’m glad she’s gone?” Numbness spread through my body and my voice sounded like it was so very far away from my body.

  “No. That’s an ugly truth I doubt many people ever learn. Sometimes the ones that should love you most, are the ones that will destroy you. It’s good that she’s out of your life now.”

  I nodded as I left my parents’ room. I checked my bedroom, and thankfully everything was still in its place. Whatever caused her rage at the end wasn’t anything to do with me. Thank God.

  Dad and Mr. Bennet were walking through the door as we came downstairs.

  “Astrid.” Dad made a beeline for me and wrapped me up in a hug so foreign, I didn’t know how to react. Even once it sunk in, I still didn’t hug him back. I couldn’t. The rusty action didn’t faze Dad as he continued to hold onto me.

  “Astrid, she left us. You don’t have to fear her now. You can come home.” He said loud and clear.

  He wasn’t upset she left. Maybe he was annoyed at first that she actually left him, but too much happiness rang through his voice. When he backed up, he had a look of a man scheming how to turn this around for him. I was sure he’d play it up like he was the injured party. He might even spread that she cheated on him. Then he’d have the sympathy of the congregation and he could show them how strong he was for them. And me.

  No thank you.

  “I’m staying with Rhys.” My voice still sounded like it was coming from across the room. But I was clearheaded enough to know I’d never come back to this place. Not with or without Mother Dearest. Definitely not to stay with a parent that didn’t even know I existed half the time.

  “Absolutely not. I allowed it because your mother was abusive, but now that isn’t an issue. You come home.” He frowned and his disapproval shined all over me.

  “No one knew I wasn’t staying here, and no one will now. I’m over eighteen and you can’t stop me.” Then I told him the truth. The ugly truth. “There’s too many memories here. And beyond that, you’re not a good father. Any parent that ignores the signs of abuse, or is so absent they don’t see the signs, is just as guilty. Maybe one day we’ll have a relationship. But not today. I blame you. I blame you as much as I blame her. Maybe more, because I knew you could stop it and you never did. Not until I forced you, and I doubt you helped me out of the kindness of your heart. Ironic for a church man, don’t you think? What you’re going to do is let me go.”

  Dad’s jaw went slack as each of my words reached his unbelieving ears. Then his face started to gather color. Every second it turned a deeper shade of red. Mr. Bennet stood behind him with his arms crossed, clearly staying for moral support. Something I never got from either of my parents.

  “Fine. You can go.” He said.

  Surprised, but not willing to let him change his mind I motioned for Rhys to follow me out.

  “But Astrid. You go, and I won’t pay for your college. At all. Now that your mother isn’t here, the deal we made is no longer valid.”

  That motherfucker. He was a shitty dad, now he was taking away the future he promised me. Maybe I’d come to regret it, but right then, I didn’t need his money. I’d go to a community college and take night classes if I had to. There were other ways to get the life you wanted. The guys and I would figure it out together.

  I flipped him off as I reached the door. “Fuck you, Dad.”

  Rhys shut the door behind him, and we gathered Jonah before heading to Thatcher’s. That was where my real family was. My chosen family.

  Every day for the next few weeks, I watched over my shoulder, waiting for something to kill our happiness. But Dad left me alone. Jonah was safe. Rhys was the hockey star he always was.

  Oh, there were little changes. Jonah and Beck were once again avoiding each other. Not when we all hung out, but they weren’t having side conversations when no one was looking. Beck was happy to divulge all this in our nightly conversations, even as the sadness coated his words. One day they’d have to realize they were blessed with a good family, one to make up for the awful hands they’d been dealt early in life. It wouldn’t be today, or tomorrow, but someday. And I’d be here to see it.

  Rhys played his games that weekend, and he killed it. The guys and I all supported him with Fat Head posters of his head, bobbing happily on the sidelines. He was embarrassed, but he appreciated it. Not that he said that, but I could tell.

  “Astrid?” Jonah slid into the leather chair next to me in the musty section of the library.

  “Hey.” I said as I looked up from my computer.

  “I want to run something by you.” He chewed on his lip nervously. This must be good if he was at all insecure. Which he never was.

  “Sure.” I closed my laptop, giving him my full attention.

  “All right. Since I need to raise the difference between my scholarships and the tuition, I’ve been researching different scholarships I could apply for. I found one that’s nationwide, and it’s open to anyone who wants to apply. It’s not major or grade specific, or anything like that.”

  “That’s good, right?�
��

  “Yes. The way they decide the winner is by essay. You have to write an essay on your life. Five pages.”

  “Jonah, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Why are you even asking me about it? You could do this in your sleep.”

  He pulled a paper out of his backpack and handed it to me. It was his essay. He’d already written it.

  UGLY TRUTHS

  When the lies fall apart.

  Everyone grows up with preconceived notions of who they are, how the world works, and how life will pepper them with good and wonderful things. Teachers are partly at fault, with participation ribbons to make every child feel special. Society adds to it by having a ready smile and lollipop at the doctor’s office, or a pig sticker at the grocery store. The biggest contributor is the metaphorical bubble that surrounds each young mind, sheltering them, or imprisoning them from the truth. For me, life was a series of pretty lies and innocent hopes, teasing me with an easy path filled with good grades and a happy home life. But what happens when the lies fall apart? You’re left with a truth so ugly it will give you the drive to find your own success, or the tools to bring about your downfall. This is the story of how I got a little bit of both.

  My first memory is of sitting on the floor, wedged between the couch and coffee table, watching the popular kid’s show, Handy Manny. As far as memories go, it’s a decent memory. I had a snack, I had clean clothes, and I was entertained. All things that are important for a toddler. My life was normal. It wasn’t until much later I realized normal was a fluid thing, changing drastically for each person depending on what part of town they lived in, who their parents were, or even what clothes they wore.

  You could say I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Which is very cliché, and probably hasn’t been given much thought in decades. We live in New America, where dreams become reality and everyone has a fighting chance. And for the most part, I’d say that’s true. But subtle discrimination plagues almost all communities today. Sometimes in small ways that have no lasting effect on anyone, and sometimes in ways that decimate a person’s self-worth so much they have a need to lie. Lie to themselves, and lie to the world.

  In my hometown of Silver Ranch, there are the wealthy parts, and the less than fortunate parts. These sections used to be separated by school district lines, a very real barrier between their reality and mine. Back when I was in elementary school, neglectful parents who constantly fought the entire ninth year of your life, were common in most houses. Then when my father suddenly left without a word or backward glance, that was normal too. Kids were lucky to have both parents, no matter how those parents came. I still believed I was going to be handed a good job when I grew up, I’d always have food on the table, and I’d always have my mom. These were the pretty lies I’d wrapped around my shoulders at night, with the help of the world, to feel good about myself.

  My eighth-grade year, everything was about to change. I remember walking home from the bus stop in jeans so worn, holes were present at every corner of both the front and back pockets. My backpack was light because there weren’t enough textbooks to go around, so the shared books were always left at school. Sirens blared from the direction of our trailer, but that wasn’t uncommon on our road. It wasn’t until I could see our trailer; I realized the cops were at our place. Shock, fear, and a healthy dose of reality slapped me in the face that day. My mother was caught running drugs for a local motorcycle club, and she was going away for a very long time.

  Luckily, I had an aunt to take me in, who could also keep me in the same school. While she didn’t run drugs, she had a penchant for dangerous men, who were constantly in and out of our trailer. This was all still normal, still the way the world was. In my mind, I believed everyone was on the same level, dealt equally horrible hands, and would either make something of themselves or not. But we all had the same chance.

  My freshman year, funding was cut in our school district and all the kids from the wrong side of town were suddenly being bused to the good school. We were mixing with the kids from sweet suburbia whether the town of Silver Ranch liked it or not. This was the first knot of lies that started to unravel.

  My first day of school, I learned the town of Silver Ranch was not happy we were there. I happened upon a less than pleasant conversation of a father telling his son exactly what he thought of the change, and what he thought of us. I now knew people from my side of town were nobodies, and would forever be cursed to follow in our families’ footsteps. For me, that meant living in a trailer, dealing drugs, and possibly overdosing at an early age. That we were condemned before we ever really had a chance is one of the ugliest truths I’d ever had to face. Where was the American dream, where people from poverty-stricken neighborhoods climbed to the top tiers of society? It wasn’t here in Silver Ranch.

  That day started a fire in my stomach I couldn’t ignore. I refused to be the person I was expected to become. With perfect grades and a well-rounded school resume, I was going to shove their shortsighted beliefs down their throats and make something of myself. But joining the debate team, winning student body president, and maintaining a solid chance at valedictorian wasn’t enough. To truly blend in with the elite of Silver Ranch, I had to become someone else. I created a whole new set of pretty lies to shroud the trailer trash stench that followed me everywhere. New clothes, new haircut, even a pair of fake glasses were all part of the plan. No longer was I the son of a convict; I was the resident school nerd. I did it so well, even I started to believe it.

  But it wasn’t enough. School admissions and scholarship awards started rolling in, and the second knot of lies unraveled. There wasn’t enough to cover the tuition, and my aunt is not the type of person to fill out a FAFSA for me. Suddenly, I felt like I wasn’t enough. And a new ugly truth reared its head this time, there was very little I wasn’t willing to do to get the future I wanted.

  They say people are their own worst enemies. Well, I say we have a nasty habit of self-fulfilling prophecies. As much as I tried to avoid it, I soon started doing odd jobs for the local motorcycle club. People from my neighborhood were doomed to join a gang or motorcycle club. I tried my best to disprove it, but in order to build myself up with a good college education; I fell into the trap of easy money. It was a slippery slope, intent on dragging me down. Four very important people, who saw more value in me than I saw in myself, pulled me out. I will forever be in their debt, and spend my life trying to repay it.

  All the lies were scattered around my feet. What was left were ugly truths that stared me in the face, refusing to let me look away. I wasn’t a nerd, even though I had good grades and wore ridiculous fake glasses, because I had believed smart people wore them. I hated my mother for ruining our lives when she was sucked into the same self-fulfilling prophecy everyone in our neighborhood seemed to fall victim to. She died before I realized bad choices don’t make bad people, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I have a harder hill to climb because I have less support and resources than most people. And lastly, I made my own incredibly stupid choices for vain reasons.

  Many people would be crushed by these truths. I almost was. But I realized, I now see life with a clarity so few ever really experience. I know life is what you make of it. Good friends are hard to come by, and if you find some, don’t let go. There are many different versions of success, and your version doesn’t have to be mine.

  I am human.

  I make mistakes.

  I am living my life for me, and what makes me happy.

  So when all the lies fell apart, and left me with ugly truths, I learned more about myself and the world at the age of seventeen, than some people ever do in their entire life. It was hard, and it hurt like hell. But I’m better for it.

  I curled my legs up and read every single word on the whole five pages.

  “Jonah… This is. This is wonderful.” I wiped a lone tear from the corner of my right eye. Who knew this uptight, school obsessed geek could feel so much? And s
ee the world in such a light.

  “You think it’s good? You think I could really have a shot?” He held out a hand for the paper, and once he had it, he read over it again.

  “I think if you don’t win, you should submit that to some kind of magazine. They’d publish it for sure. Then you’d make a different kind of money from it.”

  Indents were forming in the paper where he gripped it so hard. “Thank you. I’m going to do it. I’m submitting it.”

  “Good.” I leaned back and draped a both legs over the arm, getting comfortable for the rest of the lunch period.

  “Have you decided what to do for your portfolio?” He leaned back, still clutching his essay.

  “Yeah. I’m going to stick with my original portfolio.” I smiled. “I loved my original work. And with your guy’s voices, it’s perfect. I looked through some of my pictures that I’d taken recently, but I don’t want to use any of those. They’re too personal.”

  “I get that.” And he did, because he poured out his soul in his paper. We finished our lunch and we all met at Thatcher’s later that day.

  After Mother Dearest left, Beck went back to his place, and surprisingly Jonah went with him. That must have made for awkward home time. Rhys and I went back to his cottage, but Thatcher’s was the hub. We all met there and relaxed, watched movies, and enjoyed life. This year wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “Beck, you gonna stay the night or you good to drive home?” I cleaned up some of the mess we’d made. There wasn’t much. Astrid wouldn’t leave a disaster for me. She was raised better than that. But she was dead on her feet, and Rhys shuffled her out before she passed out. We still never got to have our movie date.

  Soon. Real soon.

  We all backed off after her mom left, but that was a month ago. She was thriving and happy, snapping photos all over the place. There was an antsy look in Beck’s eyes. He was tired of waiting just like I was. Rhys, the fucker, was too smug because he took her home every night. Not that it was overtly obvious, it wasn’t. There was a different light in his eyes lately and I knew exactly who had put it there. If I wanted a shot, I’d have to act soon.