Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Knives might slice you
Words might cut you
Lies might stab you
But a rumor will stay with you.
August 12, 2013: (PART 2)
As we stepped into the halls of adolescent chaos, the four of us were instantly separated.
I was forced to endure boring lectures and lessons without the companionship of Jamie’s snores as he dozed on his desk or the obnoxious flinches of Lucas’s hand, which would raise high with every question the teacher posed.
I even missed the smacking noise of Kayla’s pen dancing on her college-lined notebook paper as she doodled cartoon characters of our other classmates.
So, there I was, forced to endure my morning classes surrounded by peers whose names I either barely knew or didn’t plan to learn.
Jamie and I only had one class together—math, thank God—because he would’ve failed eighth-grade algebra without our brilliant cheating system.
One tap on the desk meant A, two meant B, and so on.
It worked flawlessly … until our math teacher, Ms. Snitch, suggested to my parents that I get tested for ADHD because of my “fidgeting problem.”
Finally, after four hours down, the passing seconds whispered the promise of lunchtime ahead—the only escape from the monotony of what supposedly were my educational hours.
I stared at the clock with glazed eyes. Whoever dreamed up the brilliant idea of confining 400 unbalanced teenagers to a concrete building must have been indulging in something more substantial than Jamie’s dad’s stash.
I leaned to the side in my desk chair, accidentally overhearing the latest gossip from two guys with matching mullets.
Eric Perez dated Laura Simmons over the summer until a party at Danny Leatherman’s house, when Eric and Laura’s stepsister treated the partygoers to a nude show in the hot tub—earth-shaking news.
I rolled my eyes—American tax dollars well spent.
Now I know who Biffy’s bopping this week; I’m going to make an excellent doctor or scientist now.
The sound of glorious angels—the lunch bell!
—pierced the suffocating air around my desk.
I dashed out of my seat and flung my bag across my back.
The crushing weight of books inside slammed into the pointy part of my shoulder bone, causing my joint to make a concerning pop and crack.
I ignored the sudden sharp pain as I ran down the mud-speckled tile that lined the hallway of happiness leading to the best room in high school: the cafeteria.
My toes made a high-pitched squeal as they halted in place three feet from the door’s threshold.
I swiveled my head back and forth, searching for the weather tower that was my brother.
My eyes locked onto the sight of his black hair, neatly aligned against the blue-painted wall, as he waited in the lunch line.
I dashed to his side, cutting in front of the students behind him, causing a roar of yells and hollers.
But I paid them no attention; instead, I noticed the one missing voice in the crowd.
“Where’s Jamie?” I asked Kayla, who stood next to Lucas, wearing an almost guilty expression. Her eyes flickered to Lucas and then back to mine as if debating who should break the news.
Lucas lowered his head slightly to mine. “The last I heard, he skipped English with the Donahue brothers …” His Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed a deep gulp.
A burning sensation radiated from my chest to my stomach.
If one thing was for sure in this world, it was that associating with the Donahues was as bright as putting your finger in a light socket.
Dallas, the oldest brother, was eighteen and still a junior—not because he couldn’t graduate, but because high schoolers were convenient, gullible targets who spent their parents' money on brain-numbing substances and fake IDs. The Donahue family dealt in everything from liquor to crack, and anyone treading these halls with them was expected to follow suit. They were our town’s sorry excuse for a gang, and at the head of the useless pack of mutts was their father, Jack Donahue—Jamie’s dad’s best friend and business partner.
Jamie’s dad wasn’t always scum on the bottom of my shoe. He was rumored to have been a kind boy, working at the local bowling alley to support his sick mother. That was until Jack Donahue offered to bring him along on a job, and just like that, the blood-soaked history was etched.
“Why the hell would you two not stop him?” I yelled, forgetting we were standing in line with fifty other students.
Lucas's fists clenched. “What did you want me to do? Ditch class to save his ass again?”
“Yes!” I growled.
Lucas straightened his posture like a drill sergeant, readying his voice to scold a shoe-shining soldier. “If Jamie wants to throw his life away following those worthless thugs, then that’s on him. He didn’t even make it through the first class before skipping off with them.”
I wanted to scream, stomp my feet, and smash my brother’s head into the undercooked meatloaf the lunch ladies were shoveling onto flimsy plastic trays.
But as I opened my big mouth to protest, I caught the hurt lingering in Lucas’s eyes.
It was the same look I had when Jamie kissed Maghen.
That bitter, jealous ache that burned a hole in my stomach faster than acid.
Lucas wasn’t mad at Jamie; he was jealous.
Jamie chose the Donahue brothers over the only class Lucas and Jamie had together: English.
I rolled my eyes. “Boys,” I muttered.
Kayla slapped Lucas’s arm and nodded in the direction of the door. Standing in the black-painted frame was the wobbling silhouette of the boy I was about to kill. He stumbled and swayed as he staggered through the cafeteria, bumping into tables and students with every step.
“Damn, I thought the line would have moved faster,” Jamie slurred as he proceeded to cut in line next to me.
The sound of crinkling plastic filled my ears as Jamie unscrewed the white cap of his not-so-water bottle. My fingers fumbled over his in a feeble attempt to lower the bottle out of the lingering sight of lurking teachers.
“Are you crazy!” I then backtracked my words faster than I had spoken them. “Of course, you’re fucking crazy! You’re crossfaded at 12:30 in the afternoon!”
Lucas glared at me. “Language!” He gritted his overly white teeth at me as his black eyes darted around, likely praying no teachers overheard us.
I spun my chin to face his big head. “Is this the time for an etiquette lesson, Captain America?”
The line launched forward, causing my hand to act faster than my brain. Swiftly, I stuffed Jamie’s detention-begging bottle into my bag, its plastic cracking just loud enough to make my heart jump into my throat.
As we inched forward, the rattle and clatter of dingy red trays matched that of my pulse.
I cannot get expelled on my first day. I shuddered at the thought as the eighty-year-old lunch lady slopped a thick slice of mushy meatloaf on my tray.
I was used to getting in trouble. I had a big mouth, and I liked to use it. But this was different.
I reached for an overripe banana wedged between what I guessed was applesauce and what I hoped was refried beans. As my fingers brushed the browning surface, Jamie’s fingers crashed into mine.
“Oh, sorry.” Jamie used his palm to rub his bloodshot eyes.
I didn’t respond or move forward when the line raced before me. “What’s going on with you?” I asked, attempting to avoid sounding like an authoritarian mother.
Jamie's eyes were unfocused as he gazed at me. He remained silent and seemed to be barely even breathing, trapped in an internal tug-of-war between apology and argument.
“Nothing,” he said in a singular breath.
“Bullshit,” I spat back.
The people at the back of the line began shouting at us to move forward. The cafeteria could have approached me with pitchforks and torches, and I wouldn’t have moved an inch. Jamie, on the other hand, shifted his eyes nervously toward the hollering students.
“Why don’t you just stay out of my business for once?”
I stumbled back as if shot. “Wow, only one morning of hanging out with garbage, and you’re already acting like trash.”
The muscles of Jamie’s jaw twitched as he sucked in a breath. “You do realize the people you call ‘garbage’ are my neighbors, right?”
“Don’t give me the ‘poor me’ speech. You’re better than that, and you know it.”
Jamie charged forward, his body now closing the gap between us.
The air hung thick with an unspoken fury that also flashed in his black eyes.
There was nobody in this world I felt safer with than Jamie, but in that moment, it was as if the person I knew and the person staring back at me were separate entities, two halves of the same whole, but this half was darker and scarier than the one I thought I knew.
“You’re not my girlfriend. Stop acting like it.” His demand struck me like a slap across my cheek.
And that’s when I felt it. Hot, sticky liquid traveled down my cheeks, likely accompanied by dripping mascara. I knew it was probably in my head, but it felt like the whole cafeteria had paused its thunderous conversations and turned into the most humiliating moment of my life.
My attempt to breathe felt futile, the air replaced by an emptiness that clawed at my insides. The silence was deafening, and every effort to articulate a response felt like grappling with an invisible force.
So, in a heated second, I decided that words were not going to be my weapon of choice in this battle. With trembling fingers, I pushed him backward … I didn’t even remember doing it. One second, my cheeks were painted with tears, and the next, my palms were firmly thrusting against Jamie’s chest.