“No.” I growl and bury my face back into the magazine in which Trey pulled it out of.
He rubs the back of his neck, another habit he tends to have when he is thinking. “Adriana, I know you’re mad, but she is your best friend.”
My phone, the one he will die for touching later, is pressed to his shoulder so Siren can’t hear our mini argument (mini because our big fights usual involve flying objects and obscene/made-up words being yelled for the world to hear). “She dissed me, Trey. I have no reason to go save her from the exact same person I warned her about earlier! As I see it, we aren’t even best friends.”
I had tried to take her home but instead of coming with me she yelled at me and walked off with the enemy. When they left, I had no idea where they would go or what Jesse-Man-Whore would do. The bad part? I gave not one damn. She made her bed and now she was lying in it. There isn’t a good reason why I should go to her rescue.
“Yeah. Uh-huh. It’s okay. We’re getting in the car right now,” He speaks into the phone, eyebrows drawn down in a firm stare, before lowering it back against his shoulder. “A, don’t be like this. She needs you.”
“She seemed fine without me.”
“She was wrong, okay? She’s apologizing like crazy. Let’s just go check things out and, if everything is fine, we can leave. I won’t make you stay.”
My fingers pick at the torn hem of my shirt, guilt beginning to ice my veins. We’ve always been this way. Siren would go off with her snot nosed, gelled haired friends and leave me behind. Then when we were alone, we were best friends again. She would mess up and I would be called to bring the mop. It’s been routine for years now. I know how it goes. Yet, by now, I feel obligated to be her sort of wall, hoping one day the favor will be returned. I just hate it… because I get it… the need for someone to pick you back up when you make a mistake and tell you that everything is okay. I’ve been denied that privilege for almost four years.
“Fine. We’ll go.” I slap my magazine shut and try my hardest to repair the damage that wizard did to my hair. Sometimes I complain about my pay to Horarah, saying that someone needs to buy the clothes that get ripped, burned, or taken and for therapy considering each day is a life or death situation.
We grab the car keys from the dispatch office and take to the roads. Trey’s hand is still wrapped around the phone. Always the safety blanket he is, consoling a girl he still isn’t that fond of.
“You remember when we first met?”
I gnaw on my nail beds, nodding along to the rock station. “Huh? Oh, are you acknowledging my presence?”
The corner of his mouth crinkles in a smile. “You weren’t like you are now. You actually had emotions and blond hair, you even used to smile.”
A pang of hurt radiates in me. “Sorry I bore you,” I mutter and tuck my hands under my butt.
“Not at all, actually, you keep me on my toes. I’m happy you don’t cry anymore, but I miss how I used to make you smile instead of punch me.” We roll into Siren’s driveway and he parks the car, switching off the lights and holding my stare. “Don’t get me wrong, I like this you too. I just feel bad. You’re like those sobbing angel statues in the cemetery… a beautiful sight of unbearable sadness… and I can’t seem to take it away.”
The comment hits home, forcing me to turn away to hide my blushing cheeks. Ironically, he described exactly how I felt. A frozen girl, sobbing over the graves of the people who have left, unable to move forward or backwards, just watching as more are dug. Instead of replying, I exit the car and locate the spare key under a pot of mums beside the door to Siren’s house. It’s been under that same spot since we met. That door is a bitch to unlock, but, once I get it open, I step into the house.
It’s silent inside. The TV is off and everything is in place as if Siren never came home at all. Normally, some type of TV show or music would be echoing through the walls and her after school snack would be spread out on the coffee table in front of the couch. Not today.
“She’s in her room.” Trey stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking about the house, for Jesse or her mother I don’t know.
“Go get a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and a large spoon and meet me in there. It’s the first door upstairs.”
I leave him to do (or not do) what I told him to and wander to Siren’s room where I find her hugging her knees on her bed. Her cheeks are wet, eyes red and puffy, and snot is flowing like the Nile from her nose. “Oh gross.” That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but no one knows me for being a charmer.
“Adriana.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” I pass her a box of tissues. “Clean that up before you smear it all over your face.”
She honks her nose and sniffles. “I am so sorry. You were right. I should have believed you. Can you forgive me?” Her eyes big, blue, and watery plead to me.
Ugh. Damn. She looks like an ugly puppy. “Uh…” The face gets worse when the snot begins to run again. Jeez, make it stop. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”
She crawls over the comforter and curls up on me. “Thank you.” It only takes a second for the water works to begin once more. I awkwardly pat her back before shoving her off my lap and on to the floor.
“Ow…” She wines and cries as Trey enters with a tub of Brown Cow ice cream and a large silver spoon.
“What’s going on?”
“Give her the ice cream. Please, make the pity party stop.”
He tucks the frozen tub and silver ware into Siren’s arms and sits on the bed. She rips off the top, digging into the chocolate and vanilla. Tears drip into the frozen dairy but they seem to be slowing. Yes… eat the fatty food… drown your feelings. With the spoon in her mouth she stands up and slinks into Treys arms. His eyes almost jump out of his head as he looks at me for what to do.
“Do what I did, push her off.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle and shifts under her weight. Surprisingly, Trey holds Siren to his chest and allows her to mark up his white Polo with make-up.
“He really did try to rape me. Jesse admitted to the special beer,” her voice breaks, “and he kiss attacked me today. God… I was such an idiot. All the signs were there.”
Finally, my moment has come. I inhale deeply and sing, “I told you so!”
She waves the spoon around. “Whoop-dee-doo. You win the satisfaction of seeing me like this.”
My lips flick into a smirk. Victorious. An hour and a half later, Siren is passed out on Trey’s lap with her chin dripping ice cream. In that time she had related the whole story to us from the moment she was “tortured with fast food” to when he took “tough love” to its full meaning. Jesse crossed too many boundaries doing that and I hate that we are going to have to see him tomorrow at school. We leave her house just as her mother is arriving, giving me the peace of mind knowing that she’ll keep Siren safe from that pervert.
Trey turns the radio dial down so he can talk to me without having to yell. “You know you have your combat skills exam today, don’t you?”
My nails look appealing again. “Yeah, I’ve been stalling. My combat trainer isn’t particularly fond of me. I think he’s sexist.”
He heaves out a long sigh, not trying to hide his amusement. “Sexist? How can he be sexist when he has you in his class?”
“Because he won’t let me win!”
His eyebrow raises in question. “That’s called defeat, Adriana. That’s what happens when you need to practice.”
“You don’t understand, the other peoples’ exams last about five minutes’ tops. When I’m winning, he’ll drag mine out until I’m too tired. Then he kicks my ass and fails me for not being able to do my job. The other hunters pass on less!”
Trey grins and turns the radio volume back up. “You over exaggerate, drama queen.”
But that is the typical happy-go-lucky Trey Jackson response. I’m not as out of my head as people think. Cedrick goes harder on me, which isn’t a bad thing I like a challenge, but he takes it too far. It approaches the point where it actually seems like he is trying to kill me. Horarah checks in during a lot of the practices though, stopping his constant attack.
We replace the car in the fenced in part of the back of the building. All the cars are the same and there are three types— Hummers, large white vans, and trucks with huge mud tires and exhaust pipes. Either way the Hummer is my preferred choice next to the Transporter.
“You better get moving,” Trey places the keys back on their numbered hook, the computers glowing in the back ground as other Trappers plan, “you’re already a half hour late.”
I groan and scrape my shoes to make dirty trails on the floor. This is the one thing besides fighting a wizard I’d really rather not do. With a quick stop in my room to change into my work out clothes, I head to the large (this is where all the money goes) gym.
A round boxing ring is the center with a large variety of physically strenuous machines. There are half men on a stick (the punching dummies) lining the east wall with a peach colored glare permanently on their faces. Besides the machines and dummies there are ropes to climb, small obstacle courses to trip through, and the wonderful Q-tip fighting on a log over a pool thing that I have avoided for three years.
“Durrand!”
I duck my head instinctively and turn to face Cedric Gunnery, my trainer in all things painful. He isn’t exactly a large man or a very muscular one at that. No, that would be too good for me. He’s lean in all the right places with the speed of a boxer. His hair is buzzed with the pattern of claws raking the length from his ear to the back of his head where it fades off. Cedric is worse than looking scary. He actually is scary.
“You’re late for your examination.”
“I was out con—”
His shout cuts me off. “Get in that ring! I don’t care for your excuse!”
Climbing through the bungee like rope, I enter the ring, popping my knuckles and rolling my neck, anything to loosen me.
“I hope you remember what you’ve learned.” He spits and faces me on the mat.
My nerves jump in anticipation. As always he is the first to advance. With each block and blow, the thundering sound rolls around the empty space, sending my thoughts to the drums beat in all of my favorite songs.
Elbows, fists, and knees fly into flesh to produce blood that goes unnoticed and uncared for. The five minute mark passes and I have my mentor pinned to the mat, head held tightly between my legs as I cling to his calves. He sputters and squirms, attempting to loosen my hold.
“No!” I bark and squeeze harder.
He grumbles something incomprehensible before my breath is stolen from me from a sharp pain in my side. I squeak and momentarily lose my guard. That’s when the battle flips. A small pocket knife now protrudes my side, a few inches above my hip.
“You… you cheated!” I grit my teeth against the pain and reach for the handle but Cedric beats me to it.
He jerks it out, tossing it from the ring. “You never learn, Durrand. If you don’t learn now… well… you never will.”
I leap for the ropes in an attempt to slide under them and escape, but he grabs my foot before I get close. “Cedric! Let me go! This isn’t right!”
My trainer, the man who was supposed to prevent things like this from happening, smiles sadistically. “This is the only right.” He whispers, cocking back his arm to swing.
And, as if I were able to see my own future, he kicks my ass like I told Trey he would. My arms are up to block my head, but that isn’t enough. He beats me until I am hanging on to consciousness by a string. When he finally stops, blood splatters the mat like paint, creating abstract pictures of pure pain. The red liquid runs from everywhere, my nose, cuts that run over my cheeks and under my eyes, my busted lip, and other places I probably can’t feel because of the physical trauma. Cedric grabs the straps of my sports tank top and lifts me to his face.
“It won’t be long now until you know… until you’ve learned.” He hisses the last word and drags me to the pool beneath the balancing log for the Q-tip wars. My already swelling eyes tear up as I try to scream. “Sh. Not long at all now.”
His fingers release and I drop into the cool liquid. The water envelopes me, cradling me in its grasp, careful to lay me gently on the bottom. My body is too exhausted to fight so I watch. I watch the shadow of Cedric Gunnery disappear. I watch as strands of scarlet dance and curl through the clear water. I watch the world in crystal blue until my world turns to black.
The summer warmed sidewalk singes my shoeless feet as I make my way home. Dad is going to kill me for skipping school, but it is something I had to do considering they took my clothes. I had to search through the lost and found for a large jacket that goes down to my knees in order to leave. That’s not the only thing they’ve managed to do today. Earlier they slammed my hand in my locker and spit on me. I forgave them, though. They said they were just playing. Besides, my hand doesn’t hurt too bad. It looks worse than it is.
I sneak in my sister’s window, careful to close it back, but little do I know, I forget to lock it. Rainy sits on the floor with a Barbie in hand. “Sissie!”
“Sh.” I pick her up and take her upstairs to my room.
Rainy hasn’t been enrolled in school yet. Since she is autistic, mom and dad agreed to hold off her schooling until she learns to control her behavior a little bit more. It doesn’t affect us much. We all still love her. Dad goes to work and mom stays here with her while I go to school. It’s what is normal to me even though nothing about it relates to the other families I see.
“Sissie, mommy and I were going to make cookies. Why’s you here?”
I set her on my bed and wet a wash cloth to lay across my eye. “It was a half day. I came home to play with you.”
She grins, showing off her missing tooth, and bounces on the bed. “Yay! You can be Ken!”
“Hush—”
“Rainy? Lorain, where are you?!” My mom calls. I bite my lip, trying to brush through my knotted hair.
“SISSIES HERE MOMMY!”
I gasp and spin to face her. “Rainy!”
But it is too late. The door pushes open and in walks Maryanne Durrand. “Lorain, what are you…” Her voice fades out as she spots me. “Adriana… ADRIANA!”
On instinct, I flinch at her tone. My hands clench each other in guilt. “Hi mom.”
Her neck turns red in anger, spreading to her face. “You skipped school!” She snatches up my little sister. “Your father is on his way home. He will want to speak with you.” In a whirl of blond hair and perfume, Maryanne leaves me, locking my door so I can’t escape my father’s wrath.
Less than ten minutes later, the door is reopened by my dad. He isn’t a threatening guy. He wears glasses and has light facial hair from his lip down his neck. His hair is a short sandy brown, nothing like the rest of the family’s blond hair. Although Robert Durrands appearance may seem lenient and nerdy, he has an iron fist when it comes to me.
“Adriana Hope Durrand,” he states sternly, “what did you do?”
The floor all of a sudden interests me. How long has that stain been there?
“Adriana!”
My composure slips, when I begin to soak in his anger. “I got tired,” I whisper, keeping my eye and hand out of his sight.
He stares at me and begins to pace. “That is no excuse, Adriana! You are in seventh grade for God’s sake!”
“I’m tired, damn it! Can’t you just accept that?! Leave me alone!” It slides out before I know what I am saying. I regret it when I see the shame glint in his eyes.
His strong hands grip my arms and shake me. “You do not cuss! Do you understand me?! You are twelve years old and you will follow my rules!”
A squeak escapes my throat when his fingers dig into an old bruise. Understanding dawns in his brown irises and he releases, softening his rigid posture. “Oh, honey…” He rubs his face wearily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tears brim my eyes as I launch myself into his arms. His strong, sturdy, always willing to hold me arms. I’ve hid in his chest so many times but I am accepted with a kiss on the head and whispered words of reassurance in my ear.
That night he calls the principle of the school and invites me to sleep with him and mom. Lying between them makes me feel safe as if those bullies can never harm me there. Around two in the morning Rainy screams from her room. Dad is the first one out of bed and running through the halls followed closely by me and mom. The window I snuck in earlier had blown open, scaring my little sister to the point of hiding under her bed. Mom pulls her out and folds her into her arms. Dad rushes to the window and looks out into the neighborhood street, but no one is visible. My bare foot steps on something besides carpet and crunches, gaining my attention. It is an envelope stamped with wax and signed in cursive blue ink. I reach for it but dad pulls me back and picks it up. He turns away from me to look at mom. I think I catch a trace of fear in their expressions but before I can be sure, it’s gone and we are herded to their bed, never to talk of that night again.
**
Writing this chapter was so much fun. I hope you guys like it. Please comment and vote =)