5. Blake – “If you’ve lost your faith in love and music, then the end won’t be long.”-Pete Doherty
5
Blake
“If you’ve lost your faith in love and music, then the end won’t be long.”-Pete Doherty
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Anyone but freaking Toby McCoy. Even Mark Evans. But of course, it had to be Toby McCoy, the one guy whose mission is to make my life hell because he hates my dad and wants his mom to break up with him, which I can’t blame him there. My dad has been living off his mom, since the NFL didn’t teach him about finances or how to manage his money correctly. Not only is Toby a spoiled asshole that thinks he’s entitled to every woman out there, but ever since he caught me looking at Abigail’s pictures on Facebook, he’s made it his mission to get into her pants.
“Hot shit, man. Isn’t that the nerdy chic at our school? Never realized how pretty her mouth is. I bet you a hundred bucks. I can get my dick in it before the end of the year. Nerdy chics suck the best dick. It’s like they read about it beforehand.”
His words burned through my ears. I said nothing, of course. I pushed my phone's side button to lock my screen and walked away. There was nothing to say since Toby was the quarterback of our football team, and even though he was sixteen, he was built like a twenty-one-year-old man. Toby’s dad worked as a sports newscaster and shared a decade-long beef with mine. And now that Toby’s dad knows my dad is dating his ex-wife, he’s been digging up shit from the past, saying my dad used to take steroids and all this crap and feeding it to his son, which was a bunch of crap because I don’t think he would go down in history as one of the fastest football players and get away with that lie for this long. I know my dad didn’t do drugs. He was blessed with good genes and it’s where Colt got them. I got my mom's slim build and genetic curse for her love of music and drugs and all things that made her feel artistic and creative.
This whole war on the sports channel started a couple weeks ago, and my dad despises Toby’s dad because he’s partly to blame for ruining my dad’s Football career. And my dad getting with Toby’s mom was icing on the cake and my dad’s way of revenge. So Toby is trying to sleep with Abigail for the same reason: to get back at me and stuff it in my face. I just knew it. But I knew where to pick my battles. Abigail wasn’t like these girls that would sneak into my room and let me rub them off to make them cum in exchange for sucking my cock. She was bright and hot in a reserved way. Neither Toby nor I can have a chick like that. If anything, Toby ruining her for me would save me this absurd hope she pumped into me each time she texted me a song she was listening to or the lyrics of a song she just created. Or worse, telling me to make a wish when it turned 11:11 every day. She was toxic to my soul, but in a way that could be considered my antidote.
The minute I stumbled back into class, high as hell, I reminded myself I didn’t care about Abigail. She’s just a voice—a means to an end to help my musical journey of becoming a famous musician. Even though I’ve been absent-minded for the remainder of the day, going from class to class, I made sure to be the first in our English class so I’d avoid bumping into her in the hallways. I even thought about skipping out on English, since we both had that class together, but I knew from talking to Principal Connley that if I had one more absence, I’d be in detention for life. So it wasn’t worth it. Abigail wasn’t worth it. If she wanted to fuck a guy like Toby, then she was no different than all these other sluts swooning over him and a big fat waste of time.
Ya, right, keep telling yourself that, Blake. Edmond was bright, sunny, and cheery, full of rich snobs floating around in tiny bubbles down the sidewalks of the suburbs. Edmond was a step down from Stepford's wife. Full of fake ass people pretending like they are perfect in their beautiful homes, with their two kids and biological parents living under the same roof. The complete opposite of Abigail.
The news of Abigail having eyes for fuck-face Toby isn’t even the worst news of this year yet. To name a few, it was Colt’s idea to find me, not my dad’s. It’s him who made the effort to track me down and my mom to get to know me, which put a wrench in continuing to hate him and the world. I got fired from the music store because they said I was gone for over an hour and couldn’t be found, and it was my third and final warning. Technically, it was my first, but I’m sure once the owner found out I fucked his daughter in the back room and caught it on camera, which in my defense, I had no idea there was a camera in that room. I only found that out later because after we got done, I spotted the camera. But if I knew that, I would have at least fucked her in the bathroom or something. On the positive side, at least they understood why I was gone for over an hour that day.
The real reason my brother has been taking so much control of everything is because I found out Toby’s dad called DHS on my dad, Cliff, and since he doesn’t have a dime to his name, he has to rely on my brother and be his little bitch-ass. He has to do whatever he says. So that meant Colt might cut my allowance, which has been paying for my steroids. I know, I told you my dad didn’t do steroids, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t encourage me to. My dad isn’t afraid of drugs. And said drugs aren’t always a bad thing. It’s only when you abuse their use are they considered harmful. Getting bigger has been a good thing because it’s boosted my confidence. But that shit wasn’t cheap, and it’s the only way I can grow my muscles to eventually beat Toby’s ass and be as big as Colt.
Two months ago, Toby pushed me up against the gym lockers, and I didn’t see it coming. I wasn’t as big as I am now, so I’m confident if it happens again, I can take it.
That night though, I didn’t return home. I knew it would drive Colt mad, not knowing where I was. Colt’s girlfriend suggested putting me in military school once I turned eighteen. She’s been trying to get me out of the picture so Colt could eventually focus on his pro-football life with only her in it. I couldn’t blame her. Not after I propositioned her in the bathroom to scare the shit out of her so she’d leave Colt for good. She cried to Colt afterward for hours. I heard her hiccuping from across the hallways. Because apparently, everything was about everyone else but me.
I checked my phone and had ten calls from Colt, fifteen text messages, and one phone call from my dad. I slept on the streets. When I woke, it was 5 a.m., and I was covered in my own puke. My half-brother tugged on my sleeve, hoisting me to my feet, and dragged me to his car.
“You are going to kill yourself if you don’t quite this shit. You need to stay in rehab.” He sounded pissed off and tired. I’m sure he just got into town and didn’t plan to drive up here from Norman.
Ya, well, death doesn’t scare me, bro.
If you’ve lost your faith in love and music, then the end won’t be long.” — Pete Doherty