Patch (Steel Archangel’s MC #3)

1. Chapter 1

Ten Years Old

We’ve been stuck in the car for eight hours and I’m so ready to get to our new house. We left early this morning at 6 am. Normally with it being summer, I would have hated getting up that early, but I was too excited, anxious, and nervous to sleep much last night.

I was able to nap a little during the car ride, but not much because our car is jam-packed full of so many boxes that I’m squished into a very small space in the back seat. It’s so bad that whenever we stop, I have to squeeze my hand behind a heavy box just to buckle and unbuckle my seatbelt. The corners of the boxes dig into my side and shoulder, which I know I’ll be feeling for a while.

There are also boxes underneath my feet, so I’ve been sitting with my feet resting on them, knees bent, for the entire trip. I have just enough room to the right of my legs for my backpack filled with my pencil case, notebooks, a couple of books, and a few puzzle books— Mad Libs , word finds, and Sudoku . The only movement I can really make is to slightly lean to my right to rest against the door, but doing that for too long makes my side hurt. To say I need to stretch is an understatement.

Πατ?ρα? (Dad) had tried to convince Mom to let the movers take part of what’s loaded in our car, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She just kept saying that ‘I’m a kid and will bounce back in no time from the cramped quarters.’ That she needed all of her stuff and didn’t want to wait for the movers to show up, especially if they got delayed for some reason.

My size also doesn’t help with the cramped quarters because I’m not a skinny kid either.

Mom’s family has Scandinavian and Spanish roots. However, Mom mostly takes after my grandmother with her Scandinavian roots rather than my grandfather’s Spanish genes. Mom has short, brown hair that she bleaches blond, is fairly tall, and has blue eyes. Both Grandmother and Mom are rail thin, something Mom desperately wanted me to inherit from their genes, but that didn’t happen. Or at least not yet. My weight has been an issue for both of them for a few years now.

Πατ?ρα? (Dad) is a big, tall man with green eyes, medium-dark olive skin, and black curly hair. Not like ringlets curly, but curlier than just wavy hair. If that makes any sense. He’s not skinny by any means, as he has a bit of a tummy, but he isn’t overweight.

His family is Greek, so food is very important to them. As my γιαγι? (grandma), πατ?ρα (dads) mom says, food is our family’s love language. Γιαγι? (Grandma) has been teaching me to cook for the last couple of years and already, the cookbook she gave me the first time we cooked together is chock full of our family’s recipes as well as a few that I’ve created on my own. Also, anytime she teaches me something new, she makes sure to bring the recipe cards along for me to put in my cookbook.

I mainly take after πατ?ρα (dad), both in personality and looks, which includes that I’m big boned and heavier than most kids my age. I also got his silky, black curly hair, which I like to keep long. My olive skin isn’t dark like πατ?ρα (dads) it’s more of a light olive skin tone, which I think is in part because Mom’s skin is pale. Whenever she’s outside for too long, she’ll end up burning but will never tan. However, my blue eyes are from Mom. No one in πατ?ρα (dads) family has blue eyes. Just me.

Both of my parents have glasses, though my mom usually wears contacts, and they’ve had them since they were kids. That pretty much doomed me in that department, as I’ve already been wearing glasses for over two years.

“Just another fifteen minutes or so,” I hear πατ?ρα (dad) say and then notice that the radio has been turned down.

As the words register in my brain, my head pops up from my Sudoku puzzle just in time to see the sign for ‘Welcome to Forest Creek’ go by outside my window. Turning, I look up at πατ?ρα (dad) and find him watching me in the rear-view mirror. His gaze darts to the boxes that surround me and it’s then that I notice the creases around his eyes, which brings to mind this morning’s argument and how much he protested, even as Mom kept packing in box after box. In the end I told him it was okay, however, we both knew that I was lying. I smile at him, trying to ease his worry, and as he smiles back at me, some of those creases around his eyes lessen.

Quickly, but carefully, I stow my stuff back into my backpack. I’ve always been a stickler for keeping my books in as good of a condition as possible, which includes my puzzle books.

Pushing my black wire glasses up, I look out the window again. I’ve visited Forest Creek a lot over the years, but very rarely was I awake for the trip, or if I was, I wasn’t able to see out the window much until now. Both of my parents grew up around here, but for some reason had moved to western Iowa before I was born. Now, they’re moving back home, and both sets of my grandparents are excited to have us closer again as they also live in Forest Creek.

Pushing up on my seat so I can see better, I can feel a wide smile pulling at my lips at what I see. There are a lot of cute little stores along the main street and my jaw drops when I see the awesome playground at the park. Twisty tunnel slides, swing sets, teeter totters, jungle gyms and so much more. There are a ton of trees littered around the edges and I can see them being fun for playing hide and go seek. I can’t wait until we can visit the park!

As πατ?ρα? (dad) drives through town, I bounce in my seat, both with nerves and excitement, as I take in everything that’s in my new town. I chew my lip nervously as we pass the school. I wonder if I’ll make any friends this time? Or if I’ll just be bullied again by most of the students like at my last school?

After a few minutes, Mom points out her window to the right. “Oh, there it is. Mulberry Lane.”

Πατ?ρα? (Dad) puts his turn signal on and when we turn onto Mulberry Lane, my jaw drops at how big the houses are on this street. I know πατ?ρα (dad) said he was offered more money for his new accounting job than he was getting at his last job in Iowa, but is it really enough to afford a place so big? Mom got a position as a teacher at the high school in town, but I know from their many arguments that she doesn’t get paid a lot. Her family comes from money, but for some reason, Mom had to give up her trust fund a long time ago. Or, at least, that’s what I heard from their many, and loud, arguments.

We’ve rented small two-bedroom houses and apartments my whole life and I have been told time and time again that I couldn’t have things I wanted because my parents were pinching pennies. Almost everything I own is second-hand because ‘I’m just a kid and am going to outgrow my clothes and things quickly’ . That’s something Mom has told me repeatedly over the years when I beg to get at least one new outfit or new shoes or a new backpack at the start of each school year, but it’s never happened.

To say I’ve been on the receiving end of jokes and bullying because of my clothes and belongings is an understatement. That bullying got even worse when I had to start wearing glasses and when I started to become heavier than the other kids. And I’m only going into the fifth grade. I have a feeling that the bullying will only get worse as I get older.

Though, I will say, the worst things that I’ve heard have been from my own mom.

She doesn’t get why I can’t lose weight so that I can fit into her ‘perfect family picture’. I’ve often caught her giving me disapproving looks when I go back for more food at dinnertime. Even if it is healthy.

“Here we are,” πατ?ρα? (dad) says in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, look. A few kids are out playing in one of the yards across the street. They look like they could be your age, Mary,” Mom says, as she points out her window again.

I turn and look out my window to see a girl and two boys playing together. My heart sinks a little when I realize what Mom is probably thinking when I see them playing kickball.

‘Maybe these kids will encourage you to pull your nose up and out of a book long enough to work off some of the calories you shove into your mouth.’

And I know she’s thought it because I’ve overheard her muttering it under her breath or when she doesn’t realize I can hear her when she’s on the phone with Grandmother.

Needless to say, my mom and I aren’t very close. I’m very much a Daddy’s girl.

Πατ?ρα? (Dad) pulls up in front of a large two-story house with white siding and black shutters. Tomorrow, the moving truck is supposed to be here with the rest of our things.

Opening my door, pick up my bag and carefully crawl out of the back seat. Standing, my left leg goes out from under me almost immediately, which has me stumbling as I realize it’s fallen asleep. Leaning against the car, I shake out my leg, hating the pins and needles feeling that’s rushing up it.

Shoes slapping against concrete have me looking up and my eyes widen when I see the three kids Mom spotted running toward me.

“Hi, I’m Allison, but you can call me Alli if you want,” the little girl says, her voice bubbly and excited.

She’s about my height with short, straight black hair and hazel eyes. She’s a little skinnier than me, but I also realize she’s a bit bigger than other girls our age, but still smaller than me. Though, that thought has me instantly feeling bad because I know those were Mom’s words in the back of my mind noticing and saying that about her. I feel my cheeks heat slightly with embarrassment, but I still manage a small, awkward wave.

“Um, hi. I’m Mary. Mary Catarino.”

I try not to cringe at how shy and unconfident I sound, and I hope that they don’t pick on me like so many kids have in the past. Despite my mom’s mean words, I am happy with my body just the way it is. However, I do wish I could be more confident.

“This is Luke and his cousin Brady. Do you want to come play with us?” she asks me and I turn, looking hesitantly at the boys next to her.

Luke has blond hair that’s shaved short on the sides, but the top is long. He has it styled so that it flips over to one side and it’s long enough that it almost reaches his jaw. His green eyes sparkle with happiness and excitement and his smile is wide. Then I realize he’s about a head taller than I am and I start to get nervous again. Especially when I see that he’s fairly muscular for his age. Well, at least compared to the boys that went to my old school.

My gaze slides to Brady, and I can see the family resemblance in their faces. Brady wears his light brown hair short and, like his cousin, he has green eyes and has a similar build to Luke.

Okay, my nerves are kicking in more. The memories of those older boys at my old school shoving me and pushing me down while calling me names are coming back full force.

“Um, I have to ask my parents,” I mumble.

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Mom’s sickly-sweet voice comes from behind me, startling me and making me jump slightly. “We’ll put your things in your room for the time being.”

“ Kορ?τσι μου (My girl), how about you go up and pick out your room first?” πατ?ρα? (dad) says as he walks down the sidewalk and back toward us. He must have just unlocked the door. Seeing that I haven’t moved, he smiles widely at me and when he tilts his head toward the house, silently encouraging me to go inside. It’s then that his words fully register and I feel like my eyes bug out so much they’re practically about to fall out. Thankfully, my possibly new friends don’t make fun of me for it. Or that I probably look like a goofball with how wide my smile is. I’ve never had a chance to pick out which room I wanted in the previous places we’ve rented before. But then my heart sinks and my smile fades when I hear Mom’s scoff and πατ?ρα? (dad) frowns as he shoots her an irritated look.

“I thought we already decided she was going to be in the room next to us.”

It’s not a question, more like a statement with the way she says it combined with one of her signature irritated slash disappointed glares directed at πατ?ρα (dad). He sighs and shakes his head slightly.

“No, you decided that, dear. This is the first time our Mary has had the opportunity to pick a bedroom out, and we are going to give her that. The only room that is off limits, beside our room, is the main floor study. That way I’m not keeping either of you up come tax season when I have to work extra-long hours.”

Turning toward Alli and the guys, I give them a small smile that I hope doesn’t show how nervous I am as I silently pray my mom won’t say anything embarrassing in front of them. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes,” I tell them as I pick up my bag and turn around, quickly walking down the sidewalk.

Turning the doorknob, I push open the front door and my jaw drops at how beautiful the house is. There are hardwood floors throughout the rooms that I can see and a mostly open floor plan where you can see nearly everything in the dining room, kitchen, and living room.

Then my nose wrinkles.

Everything’s so… white.

That’s one thing I’ve come to hate thanks to the houses and apartments we’ve rented in the past. We couldn’t change the wall color in any of the places and every single wall was always white. Maybe I can ask πατ?ρα if I can paint my room at some point?

Hearing footsteps on the walkway, I quickly head upstairs, figuring that’s where the bedrooms are, and peek my head in the first room. It’s really big, so I’m guessing it’s supposed to be Mom and πατ?ρα (dads) room.

The next room is bigger than my parent’s room has ever been in the past and there are two windows in here. The closet is small, but definitely not the smallest I’ve had.

However, the last room takes my breath away. There are three windows in here where I can see the woods in the distance and I know now that’s why Mom wanted this room for her hobby and reading room.

Biting my lip, I try to decide what to do. Choose this room for me and have something I want for a change? Or pick the other room because I know Mom wants this room? Hearing raised voices, I step quietly toward the door and it quickly dawns on me that Mom and πατ?ρα? are arguing downstairs. With the house being so empty, I can easily hear their voices carrying upstairs.

“Why did you tell her she could pick her own room, Nikos? We already have everything picked out for where it’s going! Things were purchased with that in mind,” Mom hisses.

“Eileen, stop. We’ve already had this argument a number of times and I’m putting my foot down on this. This is the first time that Mary has been given a choice like this, and she is going to get it. Both of us have had those chances growing up, but she hasn’t. This move is the start of something good for all of us. We don’t have to scrimp by anymore. We’re going to go and get Mary some new clothes, shoes, and school supplies before school starts next week. You and I both know that she’s been picked on and bullied constantly at school because we’ve had to get her second-hand clothes her whole life. That ends now.”

Mom huffs again. “I don’t see why we need to waste money on new clothes for her when she has enough that fit her just fine. It’s a waste and the money could be put to better use on other things.”

Wait, that’s part of the reason why I could never have new clothes or shoes? A loud sound comes from downstairs, like the sound of a hand landing hard on a counter, and it makes me jump.

“That’s a fucking lie, Eileen, and you know it! Her clothes are too thin. Her pants are too short. She’s self-conscious because of the length of the shirts you insist she wears, even though she hates them. Stop trying to impose your clothing style on her because we both know she doesn’t like that for herself. And anytime I’ve tried to buy her what she wants, the clothes mysteriously go missing or shrink in the wash. Enough is enough.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be so hard to dress her if she would stop gorging herself all the time and lose some goddamn weight.”

I swear I hear a growl of some sort from πατ?ρα in response to the disgust in Mom’s voice.

“Why does her weight bother you so much? My whole family is big. While yes, a few are overweight, most of us are tall and big-boned. We’ve been big our whole lives, even though most of us eat fairly healthy. Stop being so harsh on her and just let her be a kid. You keep going at this and you’re going to give her a complex or an eating disorder.”

“Well, at least that would be one way for her to lose weight,” Mom mutters, and my heart breaks even further as I blink back tears.

Why does she hate that I’m heavier than the other kids so much?

Another slap on the counter has me jumping as I cling to the door.

“Enough, Eileen! You will do no such thing. Stop pushing your ridiculous expectations on her and just let her be herself.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, I shut the door and I wince when it shuts harder and louder than I meant to. Digging through my backpack, I find my notebook, a black sharpie, and some tape. I quickly make a sign and tape it on the door, my door , before shutting it.

Hurrying down the stairs, I can’t help my glare at Mom, and her lips pucker as she shoots me one of her many disapproving looks. Turning toward πατ?ρα , I give him a tight, small smile, which he returns. After hearing them argue so much, a lot of it being in front of me even though I know that’s something πατ?ρα? hated letting me see, I know almost all of his tells. Mom’s too, for that matter.

“I’ve picked out my room. I’m going to head across the street to play if that’s still okay?”

His smile softens as he nods, but judging by the sympathy in his eyes, I think he heard the door slam and knows that I heard their argument. “Of course, κορ?τσι μου (my girl). Be home by suppertime, okay?”

Nodding, I head to the front door, but when I open the door and am about to head outside, I hear Mom clearing her throat.

“No goodbyes for me?” she asks, and I turn, narrowing my eyes at her.

“ Γιαγι? (Grandma) taught me that when you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all, so no, I don’t.”

Her face puckers even more and she glares at πατ?ρα , even though she’s the one that is in the wrong. However, I also know that she hates how close I am to πατ?ρα (dads) family. Mom doesn’t get along with them at all, so it’s always awkward when we have family gatherings. Another thing that she doesn’t like is that I speak Greek, which is why I only speak it to πατ?ρα and his family, and not with her. However, I know πατ?ρα? loves the fact that I’ve been learning Greek.

I turn to head out, but then pause, looking over my shoulder again. Hearing her earlier words and what she’s said in the past has something in me finally snapping, wanting to push back and stand my own ground.

Turning back around toward my parents, my spine straightens and I hold my head up as high as I can, mustering up the strength to go against my own mother. Hopefully, I won’t end up grounded because of this. Or have to endure one of her ‘punishments’ again.

“You know what? No. I’m going to speak up because I’m tired of how you treat me. I like myself the way I am. I know I’m not a very confident person right now because of things I’ve heard over the years. A lot of it I heard from you or overheard you talking about me. I know there will always be bullies and I’m trying to get better at handling them. I know that’s something you’re worried about for now and when I get older.” Pausing, I narrow my eyes at her again, which has her visibly bristling.

“However, why can’t you accept that, for the most part, I’m happy and just be happy for me? Why can’t you support me? Instead, you constantly criticize every little thing I do and try to turn me into a mini you. I don’t like the same styles of clothes you do or the things you eat. Other than reading and liking to paint my nails, we don’t share any other likes or hobbies.

“You’re always on me about my weight, saying things no mother should ever say to her daughter. The only thing I’m allowed to drink when πατ?ρα? isn’t home is water and absolutely no snacks. You make me eat one measly scrambled egg for breakfast and for lunch it’s always small, disgusting, dry salads with no protein and no dressing.

“Why do you think I eat so much when πατ?ρα? comes home for supper? You don’t give me enough to keep me full. Probably not enough to keep anyone full, for that matter. Why do you think I’ve been having lightheaded spells all the time? And then when I do eat more at supper, you give me disapproving and disgusted looks as well as muttering under your breath about how I’m shoving so many calories into my mouth. You know that’s the one meal you can’t control what I eat because πατ?ρα? is home, but if he has to work late? It’s another small dry salad with no protein or dressing.

“Why can’t you accept that I’ll never be rail thin like you? If you can’t accept me for me, then at least, take a lesson from γιαγι? (grandma) and don’t say anything at all.”

By the end of my rant, πατ?ρα face is redder than I’ve ever seen it before as he glares hard at Mom.

I know it’s a cowardly thing to do, but I can’t take any more arguing. Turning, I slip outside, shut the door, and jog across the street as I try to push the whole thing to the back of my mind.