I thought finding Dante Montgomery was going to be a challenge. Everyone made the kid seem like a damn ghost.
But in reality, a quick search of his name turned him up. He was an English teacher at a high school in a nearby town. He offered tutoring services to help kids get ready for tests and SATs, and help with essays, papers, and creative writing.
I got his address from his tutoring announcement and went to bed, deciding to visit him tomorrow since it would be a Saturday. I had also decided to leave Nate and Landon out of this for now.
In the morning, I got out of bed and got myself ready. I hadn't really seen my mom since our little fight, and I was perfectly fine with that.
"Where are you going?" dad asked as I walked out to the kitchen.
"Out," I said, snatching his slice of toast and biting into it.
"I can make you breakfast if you're hungry," he offered.
"Nah," I said. "I'll be back later. I'm going out to the bookstore."
"Here!" My dad pulled out his wallet and offered me money. "Reading is good for you."
"Thanks," I said, pocketing the money. Hey, more cash for me. Perks of rich parents.
Dad smiled at me, that sad smile that said he wished I'd stop growing up so fast. "You know, a lot of kids your age are out doing bad things. But you've always been such a good kid, Jude. I'm really proud of you."
I resisted the urge to snicker, forcing a smile. "Thanks, dad."
He stood up and hugged me. "I love you."
I pat his back. "Love you too, dad."
He released me and smiled as he watched me leave the house. Ah, my poor father. He had a good heart. Unfortunately for him, I took after the bitch he married.
I got in my car and entered Dante's address into my GPS, driving there. I had Staz's drawings in a bag in my passenger seat. I was going to make Dante help me.
It was about a forty minute drive out of town, but soon enough, I was pulling into Dante's driveway. The nameplate on the house read out "Montgomery", with a little sign advertising his tutoring services under it.
I got out of the car, the bag slung over my shoulders. I went up the porch and rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently.
The door opened after a minute and a boy who was clearly Staz's brother looked at me. His hair was a lighter shade than Staz's, but he looked more like Staz than any of the other brothers did. He was young, probably early 20s, and cute in the same messy way as Staz.
"Hi, can I help you?" he said.
"Yes, actually. I was hoping to get your help reading something," I said, deciding to play this off a little to test out his personality.
He stepped out, shutting his front door and gesturing to a table on his porch. "Well, lucky for you, I'm free today. We'll have to work outside, though." He offered me a smile and shrugged. "Nothing personal, I just make it a rule to not work in my house unless someone else is present."
"Perfectly understandable," I said, sitting down at the table. Dante sat across from me and watched as I set my bag down.
He grabbed a notebook from under the table and flipped it open. I could see times and names written neatly into it.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Jude," I said. "Jude Tibbits."
He froze in the middle of reaching for a pencil. "Tibbits?"
"Tatiana's son," I said.
Dante looked at me suspiciously. "What are you really here for?"
"Staz," I said simply.
Dante shut his notebook and tossed it back under the table. "Did my parents send you here? Those cowards can't even call me themselves."
"No one sent me here," I said, calmly leaning back in the chair. "I came here because I was told that you're the only person who ever really understood Staz."
"That's because no one else ever tried to," he said, anger rising. "They just wrote him off as a freak. Staz thinks and communicates differently than most people, but that doesn't make him a freak."
"He communicates through art," I said, watching him carefully.
He looked surprised. "Yea, he does."
I pulled the drawings out of my backpack and held them up. "Staz gave these to me yesterday. I don't know what they mean."
Dante shook his head at me, standing up. "I'm not helping you." He gave me a bitter smirk. "You think I don't know your type? You're a mean kid. Your face screams it."
He turned and began to head towards his front door. I set the papers down on the table, my mind kicking into gear.
"Help me and I'll tell you when and where Staz's art is being presented," I said.
Dante stopped. He turned to face me, narrowing his eyes at me.
"How do I know you're not out to hurt my brother?" he demanded.
"I'm not hurting Staz," I lied easily. "In fact, we started talking because I saved him from some bullies one day. I even invited him to hang out with me and my best friend the other day. Staz keeps giving me his art. I'm just trying to understand it."
Dante sat back down. "If you use this to hurt him, I will hunt you down," he warned me, snatching the drawings from me.
"If you care about him so much, why don't you have any contact with him?" I asked.
Dante swallowed, hard. "Because I hated my parents and I wrecked myself trying to get back at them. I got into drugs and alcohol when I was in high school. But I put myself in rehab, I got through college, and now I have my life back on track." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it took me too long to get back on track. By the time I did, they had convinced Staz that I had abandoned him. They warned me that it would only hurt him more to keep going in and out of his life. So I try not to, because I know they're right, and I never know how long I'll really be around for."
What an idiot. Who the hell wrecked their life and their health just to get back at their parents?
He eyed the drawings, a look of surprise coming to his face. He laid out one of the drawings, the one of two hands reaching for each other in a splatter of colors.
"I could be reading these wrong. But from what I can tell, all these splatters are Staz's feelings. He doesn't know how to express them. He gets frustrated by all the feelings he experiences, and this is his way of letting them out." He laid down the second drawing and pointed to the haze of color separating the silhouettes. "This is that barrier. He doesn't know how to break that barrier. He doesn't know how to communicate with people. I'm assuming this darker figure is you. He's trying to tell you that he wants to tell you something, but he doesn't know the words to say it."
"How helpful," I said dryly.
He shook his head, gesturing at the background color. "I think he's trying to tell you that he has a crush on you."
I nearly choked. "What?"
Dante grinned a little. "Bet you weren't expecting that."
"You've got to be fucking with me," I said, not even caring about my language.
"Wish I was. I doubt you're a good kid for my brother to be around," he said, flicking the drawings back to me. "But one time, when I was 15, my girlfriend and I were hanging out at the house. When she left, Staz said that if our relationship had a color, it would be red. Then he drew us together and the background was that shade of red."
"There's no way he could have a crush on me," I said. Hell, I tortured the damn kid!
Dante kicked his feet up on the table, folding his hands behind his head and tipping back in his chair. He looked back down at the drawings that were now lying in front of me on the table.
"He experiences things in a different way than we do. But he still experiences them," he said. "He doesn't know how to tell people he cares about them. This is his only way to show it."
"So what, every time he has a crush on someone or loves them, he just draws them a picture?" I said in annoyance.
Dante gave me a smile that was bitter and horribly sad. "I've never once heard Staz say he loved anyone. Not to my parents or my brothers or me. He never once said he had a crush on anyone. This is probably very new and scary to him. Don't break his heart unless you want me to break your bones."
"He's not exactly easy to spend time with," I pointed out.
He looked around and pointed. "What do you see there?"
"A mailbox," I said.
"And what does it make you think?"
I crossed my arms. "It makes me think of mail. It's where you get mail."
Dante nodded. "That's what I think, too. But Staz would look at that mailbox and see its shape and color. We see the function. He sees the design. That's the difference between how we think and how he thinks. We're all seeing the same thing, we're just experiencing it differently. Staz doesn't know how to see the world through our eyes. I tried to teach him, but he gets frustrated. You have to see the world through his eyes if you want to even try to understand him."
"That's too much work for me." I gathered the drawings and stood up, stuffing them into my bag.
"Let me make something clear for you Jude: I am not afraid to come after you if you hurt Staz. No one stands up for him except for me. And guess what?" He gave me a dark smile. "My family already has me pretty much disowned. So I don't really care about going after some spoiled rich kid. I'm just an English teacher. I have no social status to uphold."
"I don't know shit about Staz's art," I said, starting to walk away.
Dante grabbed my arm and yanked me to a stop, surprising my. No one put their hands on me. I was Jude Tibbits.
Dante scribbled his number onto a piece of paper and tore it out of his notebook, pushing it into my hands. "We had a deal and you're going to follow through. I know your type, because I was your type when I was in high school. But you have two days to get me the time and place of where they're showing Staz's art. Otherwise, I'll show up at your house the way you showed up at mine."
I crumpled the paper and threw it onto his lap. "No one touches me." I yanked my arm out of his grip. "I lied to you. Deal with it."
He eyed me. "My little brother thinks I hate him, because that's what my family wants him to think. They want Staz to think I abandoned him. He takes words very literally and very seriously, so whatever they tell him, he believes. Maybe I wasn't stable for a while. But I've been sober for years. I'm standing on firm ground again. All I want to do is go support Staz's art. And you're going to help me make that happen, or else I'm going to show up at your house and tell a few lies of my own."
I smirked. "You don't scare me. You're just a washed up kid who barely has a future. No wonder they don't want you around Staz."
I turned and headed down the steps of the porch. I unlocked my car, pulling open the door.
"Two days, Jude," Dante called.
I got in and shut the door, ignoring Dante. I wasn't afraid of him. If he showed up at my house and tried to tell lies, who was going to believe him? He was the shame of the Montgomery family. No one would take his word over mine.
***
"Alright, what's on your mind?" Nate asked.
I was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was sitting in one of his chairs, no longer paying attention to the movie playing on his TV.
I glanced over at him. It was bothering me so much. And it's not like I ever really kept things from Nate. Might as well get it out there. I could just keep the Dante part a secret.
I sat up and grabbed my bag, opening it and pulling out the drawings. I tossed them at Nate and he looked them over.
"I think Staz is trying to say he has a crush on me," I said.
Nate's eyes widened. "No way. Dude, there's no way. You were hitting him and tearing his drawings. How could he get a crush on you?"
"Well, now that would explain my moody confusion," I said, closing my eyes. "Congratulations, Nathan."
"Maybe it's because you're showing him attention. Maybe he's taking it the wrong way," Nate said. "He thinks he did something wrong. He doesn't think of you as a bully."
"I'm certainly not boyfriend material for a freak like him," I said.
"Jude, you have to let him down easy," Nate said. "Really man, there's something wrong with him. Don't be a jerk about it."
"I'm a jerk about everything, Nate. That's why I have a reputation for being a total prick," I reminded.
He eyed the drawings. "You really should talk to him about it, though. If he does have a crush on you, you better stop that."
"I was planning on it." I opened my eyes and rolled onto my side.
"Try to be less of a jerk?" he said.
"I'll treat him the way that Black Veil Brides singer treats his fans," I said.
"Jude, I said be less of a jerk, not more of a jerk!" Nate said in annoyance.
I snickered. "Come on, at least we know there are bigger assholes on this planet than me."
"Surprisingly," he grumbled. He handed the drawings back to me and I stuffed them in my bag.
My phone buzzed and I checked it before ignoring my message. My mom was dead set on holding me to the punishment of no friends, but I'd played a little sob story to my dad and was letting him deal with it. My mom kept texting me to come home, though.
"Don't tell Landon about this," I said.
"Wasn't planning on it," Nate said. "By the way, the goalie of our team is throwing a party next weekend. You in?"
I shrugged. "If I feel like it."
Nate grinned a little. "Come on, man. Benji will be there with Gideon. We could totally spike him and make him look like an idiot."
I returned the grin. I'd invited Benji to a party at my house one time and spiked his drink with Everclear to make him sick. He'd puked him brains out in front of everyone at the party, and couldn't even prove that I was the one who gave him the drink. Dumbass.
"We'll see," I said. I wasn't sure I was ready to go to a party that Gideon was at.
I snatched his TV remote and paused the movie that was playing. I plugged my phone into his speakers and tapped on a song.
"Feel like I gotta make moves, all the games I've been through, misuse, all good, no grudge match. Had a crush, got dumped, and the friend picked up," I mumbled along with the music.
"Damn, sometimes I forget other people know this band," Nate said.
"Congratulations, in the day and age of technology and social media, you are the chosen one. You are the only person in the entire world who knows this band," I said dryly.
He twisted to try to kick me. "Don't be an ass to me."
"I'm an ass to everyone," I reminded. "But especially people who make dumb statements like 'Oh my god I thought I was the only person that knew that band'."
I rolled over onto my back again as the music filled up the room. I wondered what Staz listened to. I bet he was one of those bleeding heart artists that listened to indie and punk music.
I closed my eyes. I'd have to tell him off when I saw him at school. Would I be nice about it? No, probably not. I needed Staz to know that it was never going to happen. If that meant being cruel about it, then so be it. I was going to end things with Staz once and for all.
--------------------------
A.N.- Let me know what you guys think of Dante!