The Academy, Part Two

Three

James:
"So, how'd that go?" I ask, glancing back at Ester while we are practically parked in bumper to bumper traffic. "Fine," he says shortly. Samantha sighs and unbuckles her seat belt before climbing in to the back seats. Sitting in the middle, she holds his hand and asks him again. "So how'd that go?" "My parents are getting a divorce and now I'm in a bad mood," he says and I groan, feeling off put. Why the hell can Sammy get an answer but I can't?

"Don't take it personally but she's actually had a few rough times, I wasn't sure you'd understand," Ester says. "Whatever," I mutter, hitting the gas and getting on the highway. Never had a rough time my ass. Just because my last name is Charming, doesn't mean I have an easy breezy life. "Your bad mood is infectious," Samantha comments, easily getting back into the front seat. "No it's not. I don't understand why you guys assume I have it good just because I'm Prince Charming. Not everything follows suit with the stories. You all are prime examples. Wendy never had a daughter named Tink therefore Peter Pan didn't marry her. Jace Wayland married Clary Fray in the book, not Rose. Matthew shouldn't have been born. I am fairly sure there was no wizard named Ester at any of the wizarding schools. My home life isn't as grand as it is in the movie or books!" I announce, quickly turning on the radio after I'm done so there isn't an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Samantha mutters, looking out the window after shutting her air vents. I turn down the air conditioning and glance back at Matty. "Matt you haven't said anything this whole time you alright?" I ask with out looking behind me. "Yeah man I'm good," he says, patting my shoulder. "Ester I'm sorry for going off on you like that. Nobody has it any worse than the next person. Pain is relative and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all the fighting. I'm sorry about the divorce. It sucks," I say. "Thanks," he mumbles, seeming embarrassed. "Matty, you didn't deserve that either. I'm sorry," I say, running my hand through my hair. "Don't worry about it. Your dad is getting to you," Matt says with a laugh. "Sammy," I sigh, looking at my girlfriend who is now crying. "Yeah?" She asks, clearing her throat.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, grabbing her hand. "It's just the rain. I um, my mom loved it and Nathan died in it and oh my god, I'm such a girl," she laughs nervously and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Hey, being a girl is one of your best features," I say, tossing a sideways smirk in her direction. "Wow, none of us needed to hear that," Matty laughs. "I love you guys," I laugh, taking it the way they wanted me too. Don't Stop Believing by Journey comes on and we scream the lyrics before pulling into a motel for the night.

"Sleeping arrangements, I think that me and Sammy should share a bed, you know since we're cousins and all. Then Ester can sleep on the couch because we cannot drive yet and James shouldn't drive drowsy," Matty says, setting down bags. "I know that's not why you don't want me in the same bed as Sammy, you could have just said something," I grumble, pulling out my towel. And hitting the shower. "I don't understand what his problem is," Sammy groans after dramatically plopping onto her bed. I groan when my bones ache as I try to take of my shirt. The bruises have taken to a dull throbbing but a wave of pain erupts when I move. "Baby are you okay?" Samantha asks through the door and I can hear the boys fake gag at the word baby.

"Yeah why?" I ask through gritted teeth. "I'm coming in, something sounds really wrong," she warns, opening the door. "No, no, I'm fine!" I yell, trying to get her to leave but then she gasps. "Oh my god," she exclaims, shutting the door. I look at the ground and try to ignore the horrified stares. "Your dad?" She asks, her voice shaking but echoing around the small bathroom. I nod with out looking up. She places her hand over a mark of his. "By God," she murmurs, kissing a bruise by my neck as she folds her arms around my waist and putting her face against my neck. "I'm sorry," she sighs, rubbing my back "Ow," I mutter as her little warm fingers graze against a particularly sore bruise.

"Turn around," she instructs. I roll my eyes but do as she asks. "Those aren't hands. What the hell as he been hitting you with?" She asks, tracing the outside of a small square. "A riding crop," I admit. Then I see the guys standing in the door way, looking horrified. "I told you. Prince Charming doesn't live too charmingly," I say, closing my eyes.