"Did you have a good time this afternoon?" Billy said in last period with all his usual tact and subtlety. "Bet it was nice having some freak tell you how good you look in the autumn wind."
"You know, you should really be a poet, I honestly believe you have a gift."
He rolled his eyes, working on his sketch of me. Mrs. Mueller had announced that this would be the day we choose our poses. Now that we had a feel for our partner, we'd be working on our final projects only. One partner would paint in class, and the other would do it outside of school at the discretion of the partners. Since Billy was the only one who had to turn in a final project, he'd do his work during last period exclusively. If Daisy had her way, I'd be painting him as well (for his self-esteem or whatever), but I'd put a preemptive foot down; I wasn't going over to his fucking house so he could harass me in private.
"I think I'm going to do like a bust portrait, just head and shoulders," he informed me as he was planning out his painting on a sheet of copy paper. When he saw my pinched expression, he said, "What, no good?"
"It's just been done, you know? My personal suggestion is that you go down to the waist, it's not as common."
He nodded, weighing it over in his mind, before flipping the sheet over to take my advice. At the very least I could help him as a teacher. It was surprising but pleasing to me that he actually listened to me instead of just blowing off everything I said. If the rolls were reversed, and he was coaching me on, I don't know, basketball, I doubt I'd pay him any mind. But I forced myself not to consider the idea that he was more mature than me.
"How's King Steve?" Billy asked.
"You know, I don't think he likes being called that," I said instead of answering. "And it's hardly appropriate anymore; he's practically alternative now." That was a bit of an exaggeration. He was certainly not an outcast, but that aura that always followed popular guys had all but abandoned him.
Unfortunately, Billy didn't take the bait. "I might've been a bit nicer to him if I'd known that's what he was going home to."
"Nobody likes being pitied," I said before I could stop myself.
"I didn't mean pity-"
"I know what you meant, Billy." I put my face in my hand, and I remembered I'd done my makeup today. Not a lot, just foundation and blush to smooth over the spots of discoloration in my skin and the bluish shadows under my eyes and give me back a bit of color. It felt weird, crumbly and powdery, and my mascara-coated lashes were stiff and rubbery, like plastic insects, when they brushed against my palms. "I'm just a little on edge is all."
"Does your cousin know-"
"He's not my cousin."
"Sorry, does- uh- that guy know what your dad's doing?"
"Yeah, I guess it's just something that happens." I didn't know why I was telling him this. Probably because he was the only person other than the members of my household that knew what was going on behind closed doors, not to mention the only one who seemed as bothered by it as I was. "He says that it's not really a hitting thing, just that he breaks stuff and shouts, or whatever."
Billy exhaled angrily, snapping the point of his 6B pencil, hastily reaching for another one. "What is with you people and your obsession with whether or not he's physically punching him in the face? Do you think he's any less of a bastard if all he does is chuck a couple lamps around?"
Normally I'd agree with him, but that was my fucking father he was disparaging. "Well, at least he wasn't the reason Steve needed those stitches," I hissed.
He looked up from his drawing, expression blank. "What?"
"I know you beat him up, and that's why he had all those bruises and sutures."
For a moment we just stared into each other's eyes, I could count the little flecks of gold in his irises, a faint white scar near his hairline. Then the bell rang and shattered the atmosphere, physically making me flinch.
While everyone was packing up, I whispered, eyes tearing up, "Do you understand now why I'd never touch you again? You attacked my baby brother; you nearly killed him."
He stood up, shouldering his bag, a single eyebrow cocked. "Did I?"
This chapter's short, but I feel like it was good *giggles with nervous self-doubt*. Please comment anything you specifically want to see more of or if you have any questions, thanks for reading!!