Chapter Fourteen
"Where the fuck did you go?" Dad demanded as I walked up to him. I snapped back into my little world and stared at him for a moment; surprised how I got back to him. The doctor behind him stared at me for a moment, then my father, rolled his eyes and left. In that order.
"On a walk," I replied. I didn't need to tell him, he'd just give me a rant that I just really didn't need... or want in that matter. He sighed in discontent; but when was he ever content? The doctor finally disappeared and my father and I were left alone. My father looked at me and then grabbed my arm, and started to tug me away.
When I yelped, my father dropped my arm and stared in concern. I gave him a dirty look, "I just got stitched up again; this is the fucking last time I'm coming in the hospital."
He gave me a look and then sighed, "Jesus, John, I wish you weren't such a handful."
"What?" I demanded.
He rolled his eyes; much like the doctor and then marched out of the entrance; less concerned than he was a second ago. He had bigger mood swings than the Step Monster. I followed him a second after it appeared he wasn't going to wait for me. He'd probably drive away from me. I raced after him and sped walked next to him.
"Whoa, slow down, dude," I ordered.
"Don't call me dude, John, I'm your father," he told me and ignored my snort.
"Well, father's act a bit more concerned in these types of situations," I claimed.
He remained quiet until we got to the parking lot, "John, listen to me; you're not longer in high school, you have to apply to college and these type of things will be on the record; they won't look good in your record."
"That's all you care about; me getting to college and out of your life," I said and then smiled ironically, "Surprise."
"That's not why and you know. Stop acting like a child and start growing up," he ordered.
I blinked, "I'm grown! I'm trying my best in this piece of shit life!"
"Piece of shit?" he turned around and looked at me, "You live in a palace, you went to a private high school, you can go to any college you want in this fucking country. You are so much better off than so many kids."
"So; everything is shiny clean on my record; it doesn't mean I have personal problems, Dad," I replied. He rolled his eyes and went to the car. He unlocked it, entered, turned on the engine, and reversed the car without me in it. He stopped by me, lowered the window, and stared.
"Stop pouting and get in the car," he told me.
I waited a moment and got in the car. I had no other way home except the bus; I don't do buses. Ever taken a New York bus? If you have, you understand why I'd rather take a car. I buckled my seatbelt as Dad rolled the window up and drove. We stayed in the silence.
"Why is your life bad? Just tell me that much," my father said.
"Why should I?"
"I'm your father, that's why."
I was quiet and sighed, "I thought it was because you care."
"I do," he said.
"Funny way to show it," I mumbled.
"This whole father deal isn't easy, John, you're my only kid. Thank God," he muttered and then inhaled, "Just try me."
"My first boyfriend," I began.
"Oh, Jesus, that Henri kid. I wish I would've hit him with my car," he mumbled and then saw my glare and sighed, "Continue."
"My first boyfriend was a complete slut."
"True dat."
"Dad," I groaned.
"I know more than you really think, but ever since you came out; you distanced yourself from me. You don't trust me," he said.
"Why should I? You wouldn't understand. You never understood me being gay," I retorted.
"You say I don't understand but you never talk about it, how in the hell should I understand?" he demanded.
"Okay, let me rephrase that; you don't accept me being gay," I told him.
"Don't accept you? I don't care if you're gay!"
"Really? Why don't we ever talk about me being gay?" I asked.
"I thought you were bisexual," he said.
"Yeah, whatever; same thing," I replied.
He exhaled quickly and chuckled, "Do we ever talk about me being straight?"
"No, but..."
"Same thing."
"It isn't," I said and sighed.
He shook his head, "Look, I won't become a father who walks with you in gay parades, but I promise you this; I don't care if you were gay, straight, or one of those boys with those stupid boys who wear their hat backwards and pants way to low. You are my son."
"Really?" I nodded, "You didn't seem to notice me when Mom was alive."
He was quiet and then blinked, "Wait, what? What direction did this just go?"
"Where were you then?" I asked quietly.
He looked at me, "Working."
"Thank you, Einstein," I mumbled, "But why weren't you ever home? Every day, it was just Mom and I. But when you remarried, you came home immediately if you were just told to. If Mom did, you ignored her."
"I didn't mean to," he sighed and looked at me, "I didn't realize how bad I was until she was gone. I tried to make it up to you after she died."
"After she died, way to go," I muttered.
"When she died and I asked you to hold my hand at her funeral; you stared at me with complete confusion. You didn't realize who I was. I was a stranger. That's when I realized it," he was quiet and I couldn't say more. I didn't remember it. I probably blocked the whole funeral.
I stared at him and when we arrived home, I was met with a surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
"Hello, my good fellow," she smiled.
"Penelope," I chuckled with false sweetness, "Why are you here?"
"Who's Penelope?" Damien asked as he entered the room.
"Oh, sorry, sir, but you must have confused me with someone else," Penelope grounded and glared. My eyes narrowed on her, "I'm Cassy, remember?"
No, you a hoe. I blinked, "Right."
Damien stared at me and then at Penelope, "So, what's going on, John?"
"I got stitches again," I said.
Penelope looked confused.
"How'd you rip them open?" he asked.
"An ex-boyfriend tackled me," I replied.
"Huh," Damien said thoughtfully.
"You got hurt?" Penelope asked.
"Yep," I bared my arm to her and she gasped loudly.
"Oh, my Jesus!" Penelope dropped her accent and then realized she did, blushed and then rephrased it, "I mean, that's frightful."
Damien looked a bit confused but when he was about to question it, she turned to Damien and smiled, "I'm parched, mind getting me a drink, baby?"
He seemed to suspect something but it disappeared and he nodded, smiled and said, "Yes, be right back."
He went around the corner. Soon as he did, Penelope trained her gaze on me, "I like him."
I blinked, "Meet me in my room in ten minutes."
"No, you don't get it, I really like him," she mumbled.
"I bet you do," I said quietly, "Ten."
"John!" she said quickly.
Damien came back with a drink in one hand. He handed it to her and she smiled softly, whispering a small, "Thank you."
"Kept her company?" Damien asked playfully. I nodded, looked at Penny and sighed. Soon as I turned, Damien asked, "What did you talk about?"
"Nothing," she mumbled back. I hurried up the stairs and into the hall. I was contemplating what to do and how to handle this whole facade. I was very determined to do the right thing, but at the same time, I didn't want to get in trouble. I groaned and rubbed my head.
Great; I blame Zeke. "What can possibly go wrong?" Bull-shit, I knew he had it in for me. I'm going to die next week with the luck I'm running with.
I went into my room and closed it behind me, I slumped on the door. I froze when I saw who was in my room: Romero and Owen. I blinked, "No, no, no! Out!"
Owen looked up and blushed and hurriedly looked away.
"You get out," Romero said defensively.
"It's my room," I replied.
"And these are my jeans and that doesn't really matter either," Romero said and smiled like a smart-ass.
"I really hate you," I told him and he shrugged it off. I looked at Owen and when he didn't budge, I said, "No asshole remark?"
"Well, you did practically rape the poor boy," Romero said angrily and shrugged, "Why would he want to talk to you?"
"You told him?" I exclaimed.
"You molested him," Romero said.
"Oh, boo-hoo, he started it," I shot back.
"What does that mean?" Romero asked.
"He started this whole thing. He blackmailed me," I blinked, "And he is gay, though he's too stubborn to admit it!"
"You can't force someone to be gay!" Owen demanded from me.
"I'm not forcing it, you are gay," I said.
"How did he blackmail you?" Romero asked.
"He slept with Damien," Owen shot out.
"What?" Romero looked confused but when the room went quiet, Romero turned his gaze onto me and blinked, "Oh that explains a lot, I remember you! You were at the party! Oh, my God, you slept with Damien!"
"That's what I just said," Owen muttered and rolled his eyes.
"Then who's the girl downstairs?" Romero asked.
"Well, um," I began.
Then my door opened and Penelope walked in. She saw all of us in a defensive position and looked at me suspiciously, "Um..."
I shushed him and waved my arms, I tugged in Penelope and closed the door after looking both ways to check if the sign was clear. I looked at Penelope who appeared to be cornered.
"Well, how are you gentlemen?" Penelope continued in her fake accent.
"Who are you?" Romero asked.
"Whatever do you mean?" Penelope questioned, innocently.
"You're not the girl," Romero said and then nudged his head towards me, "He's the girl."
When I said, "I'm not the girl, I'm the boy." Penelope looked at me and demanded in her good ol' normal voice, "You told him?"
Then I looked at her and replied, "No, Owen did."
"Which one's Owen?" Penelope asked.
When I looked at Owen, he looked surprised and gaped at Penelope, "How the hell do you not know who I am?"
"You punk!" Penelope went at Owen but I was able to catch her before she got her claws on him, thankfully. We didn't need any lawsuits, thank you very much.
"Seriously, how do you not who I am?" Owen asked Penelope, furious.
"How big can your head get?" Penelope managed to say as she attempted to escape me.
"I know, right?" I sighed.
"How does he know?" Penelope managed to ask. When I was certain she wasn't going to hurt anyone, I let her go and she took a step away me and wiped off the fake dust off of her. So dramatic. Actresses, huh?
"Because he's smart," I told her.
"Oh thank you," Owen said with false sincerity.
"Like the evil mastermind, sort of way," I continued.
Owens's eyes narrowed, "Fuck you." That one was with complete sincerity. The love in this room.
"Love you too, sweetheart," I shot him my best "eat shit" smile, "Can you guys leave me alone with Penelope?"
"And her name isn't even Cassy?!" Romero rolled his eyes, "Fake accent, fake name; Jesus, Damien's going to be crushed."
"Because I'm not British?"
"Because you're not real," Romero glared at me, "And you need to tell him you slept with him."
"What? No," I whined and sighed, "Can't we just tell him Penny's a ho?"
"Fuck you, if I'm going down, you're going down with me," Penelope said, angrily.
Owen smiled.
I glared and pointed at Owen, "I hate you."
"The feeling's mutual, jackass," he replied.
"I don't... I'll tell him," Penelope sighed, and looked at me, "I like him a lot, John. I don't want to ruin it." She looked at Romero and sighed, "Don't say anything, I really do like the guy."
"And he likes you too," Romero said quietly, "Because he think he gave his virginity to you."
It was quiet, "Wait, what?"
Romero turned his gaze on me, "He gave his virginity to you and you need to own up to it and tell him."
I let out a small whine and covered my face, "Aw, come on, this is bull shit."
"It's your fault," he said.
"He kissed me first. I-I was drunk. He was drunk. And I felt sorry for the guy," I blinked, "Aw, fuck."
"He was a virgin? No. He's a rock star!" Penelope gaped.
"Well, he was," Romero sighed, "Look, if you haven't noticed, this band is not exactly close, but when you spend a certain amount of time with someone, you understand them better than they understand themselves. I know Damien, Owen, Stephan better than they know themselves."
"Fuck you do," Owen said in the background.
"Shut up, gay-lord," Romero said and Owen made a sound of disgruntlement but didn't argue back, "Damien is extremely venerable, like a puppy."
"No shit," I mumbled.
"You need to tell him."
"I know," I said and sighed, "I dug my own grave, might as well use it."