Trying To Endure

Chapter Two

Trigger warning: references to sexual assault.

SONG: Sabrina Carpenter - Hold Tight

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APRIL LEVESQUE

Aashvi abruptly stands, the chair skidding backwards. She silently rages out of the classroom, interrupting our psychology teacher. Mr Patel stares at me for an explanation. I sheepishly smile, swiftly gathering our belongings and bounding after her. School is about to finish, anyway.

I was taught to never fully hate someone. The consciousness and the soul are separate foundations. Each should be studied of its own accord. Yet humanity strains our morals. Our development is the cause of injustice. The moment you assume a person is decently good, life takes greater lengths to warn you. That is how some have greater luck than others.

"Aash!"

She spins. Indian, silky-black hair, a dark skin tone, eyes glittering like jets. "I can't stand being in the same room as that asshole. I want to see him in pain so bad." Each word penetrated rancour and agitation. "I want him to fucking die."

My throat clogs. Punishment is pedagogic. The question is, is it right to justify death as retribution under a man's law? How else can a person learn from their actions — that is the main point of karma, isn't it? Even my priest said the devil improvised wisdom.

It has been more than three months since Bodie Banks raped a good friend of mine at Ines Chey's house. Camila De La Cruz. No one is aware except Aashvi, Bodie, Cami, Destiny Byrne and me. I was the last one to find out and automatically encouraged her to inform the authorities. It might not permanently demolish her agony, but at least the delinquent will be gone for good. We will all be safe.

I respect that Camila is not ready.

The bell rings.

Aash swings on her bag. "I'll see you at Roy's."

We hug goodbye, parting. Reaching the car park, my brother is nattering to my boyfriend. Roy notices me and smiles. I happily walk into his chest, inhaling his affectionate warmth.

"Ew." Ethan is a year younger than me. Tall and skinny, eyes dark, skin light-almond, hair dark-brunette. "You guys make me wanna jump off a cliff."

Roy is the leader of the school's basketball team. Girls blabbed about him in the first week of Year 12. Look, it's that cute new guy. They're not wrong. Sandy hair, beachy-tanned skin, soft brown eyes, athletic and slim, a melt-worthy smile, and a charming personality.

I vividly remember how we met: on my way to class, I bumped into him. My books crashed to the floor. He cursed and instantly crouched to pick them up and apologised. "Wait...you're in my sociology class, right?" I nodded. "Can we walk together? I still don't know my way around the school."

"Sure," I said.

He smiled, warm eyes twinkled. "Lead the way, uh—" He peeked at my lanyard. His brows arched. "Oh, you're April."

"Heard about me, I guess?"

His laugh warmed my stomach. "You got quite a reputation here."

In the present, Roy swings an arm around me. "Convince Ethan to come tomorrow."

A call of my name intercedes

The Matthews Brothers are magnetic. Failure loves to be ceased in their presence. Most students' richness is a humbling fleck of dust compared to the wealth of these brothers. This school is practically theirs.