4. Daniel
Chapter four
Daniel
Granite
L eaning against my locker, I watch the bustling crowd moving through the hallways. Suddenly, Kaiden appears at my side. I can feel his presence before he even speaks.
Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I try to walk away, but he grabs my arm with a firm grip and pulls me towards him.
"Heard you got paired with black heart Becca in class," Kaiden taunts with a smirk.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Yup. We got assigned some stupid community project."
As we make our way down the hall towards class, Kaiden suddenly steers me into the locker room instead. Before I know it, he's locked the door and the rest of the Elite Five have surrounded me, their imposing figures casting long shadows on the walls.
“Is this some sort of intervention?”
The air is thick with tension and unspoken emotions.
“Yes,” Kaiden speaks up, his tone serious and somber. “We all deal with the same shit. I watched your sister die, but it was my own goddamn girlfriend's hands that took her life. How do you think I feel? Daisy was like a fucking sister to me!”
Xander nods slowly, memories flooding back to their childhood days spent together in this very room. We had all grown up together, a tight-knit group of friends forged by shared experiences and bonds stronger than blood.
“Not to mention, I tried to stop that whole shit show from happening,” X chimed in, his normally stoic demeanor giving way to raw emotion. “And what happened? I needed the Elite Five. We can't do this shit by ourselves.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I collapse onto the floor as tears well up in my eyes. My heart races as flashbacks of that fateful night play over and over in my mind.
“I… I can’t fucking get it out of my head!” I cry out, my voice cracking with emotion. “It just keeps playing.”
Iz gently pats my back as he speaks, his words laced with empathy and understanding. “Seriously, call my mom. Just ask X how she helped him.”
Before anyone can respond, the bell rings. We all silently make our way out of the locker room and head off to our classes. As Kaid pulls me into a quick hug before leaving, he whispers in my ear.
“Seriously, man, we’re here for you. Just don't leave us.”
“Alright.”
I step into the classroom, the low hum of chatter and shuffling papers filling my ears. Desperately needing to drown out the noise, I pop in my headphones and turn up the volume. The familiar song "Granite" by Sleep Token blasts through my ears, momentarily blocking out all other thoughts.
As I make my way to the back of the room, I see Becca sitting in her usual spot, papers scattered across her desk. Ignoring the chaos around her, she is completely focused on her work. I plop down in the seat across from her, pushing some of her papers aside to rest my feet on top.
Becca lets out a frustrated sigh as she gathers up her papers. "Are you not going to work today?"
I shrug nonchalantly, still lost in the pounding beat of the music blasting through my headphones.
"Danny, this was your idea," Becca says, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
My sister's face flashes before me, covered in blood and lifeless. I can't focus on anything else when this image haunts me constantly. How can anyone expect me to carry on with normal life after something like that happens in our small community?
Becca’s hand reaches out to grab my headphone, but I’m quicker than her. Pulling her close to my face, I glare at her with an intensity. "Don't ever fucking touch me, Rebecca."
I push her away harshly, quickly grabbing my bag and heading for the door. My teacher calls out my name, but I ignore her and keep walking. Right now, I can't be in this classroom pretending everything is fine when it feels like my world has been shattered into pieces.
Braving the biting cold, I trudge through the thick blanket of snow to reach the bleachers. Tiny icicles cling to my eyelashes and my breath comes out in white puffs that quickly dissipate into the frigid air. Ignoring the discomfort, I pull out a blunt and light it, taking a long drag and relishing in the calming effects of the Wedding Cake strain. It goes down smooth, no harsh burn or coughing like some other strains I've tried.
The bell rings and I lazily watch as my classmates pour out of the school building. Among them is Becca, her head hung low as she walks towards the bleachers. A group of girls ambush her from behind, shoving her face first into a huge pile of snow. The sound of their cruel laughter echoes around me as I sit back and do nothing to stop it.
I'm just as bad as those girls… maybe even worse for sitting here and watching it all happen without intervening. But what can I do? I'm just an asshole... and that's all I'll ever be.
Becca manages to pick herself up, her makeup smeared from the snow and tears streaming down her face. From where I'm sitting, I can see a faint marking of a cut underneath her smudged makeup. She rushes towards the bleachers, wiping away at her face with trembling hands. As she gets closer, I notice a deep bruise surrounding the cut on her face.
Guilt gnaws at my conscience as Becca sits down next to me, trying to hide her injuries. But there's nothing I can say or do now to make it right. All I can do is sit here in silence, knowing that I am just another reason why Becca's life is so difficult.
Becca brings her cell phone up to her ear, the glowing screen casting a faint blue light on her face. I move back, eager to eavesdrop on her conversation.
"Hey, it's uh, me. Becca." Her voice is shaky and strained. "She hit me... again." She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. "And now she wants to kick me out. They're selling the house." A crease forms between her brows as she speaks. "I don't know what to do. I wish you were here with me." She quickly wipes at her face, trying to hide any sign of tears. "But I'm not crying. We're big, strong girls, right?" The last words come out in a forced, determined tone.
Becca hangs up the phone as I quietly descend from the bleachers behind her, causing her to startle when she notices me.
"Who were you talking to?" I ask curiously.
"It's none of your business," Becca retorts, scowling at me. "Maybe you should focus on your own problems, Danny."
Ignoring her, I take a step closer. "What happened to your face?"
Becca flinches away from my touch as if burned, instinctively covering the injury with her hand.
"Get away from me," she snaps.
But I don't listen, taking another step forward and gently grabbing her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up at me.
Becca shivers under my intense gaze, and I can't help but smirk. "Not so nice when someone invades your personal space, huh? Or maybe it is..." My voice trails off suggestively.
Instead of running away like I half-expected her to do, this fiery hellhound in front of me steps closer, her sultry lips curling into a teasing smile.
"Just a reminder, Danny ," she purrs, her hand reaching down and playfully scraping her sharp black nails along my pants. "We're only partners in class. Don't get too attached." With a laugh, she pushes away from me, leaving me standing there like a bumbling fool.
God damn it. Becca is...
My phone vibrates insistently in my pocket, jolting me out of my daydreams. In a daze, I answer the call.
“Uh, hey,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“It’s dad. Are you on your way home?”
I nod absentmindedly as I continue walking towards my car. “Yeah. Just finishing up a project for class. I'll be back soon.”
Unlocking the door with a click, I slide into the driver's seat and start the ignition. The familiar smell of leather seats and air freshener fills my nose as I pull out of the parking lot and head home.
But no matter how hard I try, Becca's image lingers in my mind like a stubborn stain. Her laugh echoes in my ears and her bright smile dances in front of my eyes, distracting me from the road ahead. Even as I drive, her name whispers through my thoughts, refusing to be ignored.
T he dinner table is a somber scene, with only the clinking of forks and knives breaking the silence. Delilah glances around, then bursts into tears and flees from the room. My mom follows after her, leaving me and my dad alone.
With a sigh, I push my plate away, and my dad does the same. "Shit," he mutters.
I nod in agreement. "What's her problem today?"
"I have no idea, Danny. Maybe we all need some family therapy."
"Not a bad idea."
My dad taps his fork on his plate. "So tell me about this school project."
"We were assigned partners in class. We have to come up with a community project that can sustain even after we graduate. Oh, and our partners are complete opposites of us."
"Interesting. Do you have an idea yet?"
"Yeah. So I'm paired with Becca. We came up with a community garden - real farm-to-table. It helps those less fortunate by providing local fresh food to nearby food banks. And we can promote healthy eating to young kids."
My dad grins. "Wow, that's impressive, Danny. Good job."
Shrugging, I stand up and start clearing the plates off the table. "It's nothing, really. Just an idea."
"You should be proud of yourself. I'm sure Becca is!"
"Not even a little. She likes the idea, but not me."
My dad chuckles. "You're not the easiest person to get along with, but just be respectful and it will all work out."
"We'll see. But she's so cold, dad. It would be easier if she was nice."
"And part of your project is learning how to work with someone you wouldn't choose as a partner, right?"
"Yeah..."
He smiles as he stands up from the table. "Well, there you go, Danny. It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it in the end."
I mutter. "I guess... It's all so stupid. Whatever."
Huffing, I retreat to the kitchen and start washing dishes, then make my way up to my room.
I get the concept of this stupid project, but why the fuck am I stuck with Becca, of all people?
My phone dings and I look down at the name that flashes across.
Speak of the devil… Becca.
I open it and skim it over.
There’s some land I bet we could get donated to the project over by the baseball fields and playground.
I type back, not wanting to even think about this right now.
Sounds good.
Do you think we’ll have any issues? We need a backup plan in case we can’t get it donated. Fundraising could help offset some cost as well. I mean, we should be doing that, anyway. Equipment is still needed and everything.
I pick up my phone and click to video call Becca. It rings and rings, then rings some more before going back to a black screen. I text back to Becca, annoyed now.
Pick up, Becca.
Her response is instant.
No.
Fine. I can play this game too, Becca.
Then come over.
No, Danny.
What are you afraid of?
Certainly not you. I’m busy.
As my frustration grows, I push myself off the couch and grab a joint from my stash. I make my way to the sliding glass door that leads to my balcony, stepping outside into the cool night air. With a flick of my lighter, I ignite the tip of the joint and take a deep inhale, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as the smoke fills my lungs. I glance down at my phone and see that Becca still hasn't responded to my texts. My patience wearing thin, I send her one more message before blowing out the smoke in defeat.
Stop being a brat and come over. We have to work on this project together.
And we will. I just had some thoughts. See you tomorrow.
I fling my phone onto the chair behind me, frustration radiating off of me like heat. "Whatever," I mutter, my voice dripping with annoyance. "I don't need Becca's nonsense on top of this shit."
Between my mother, my sister, and now Becca, it seems like all the women in my life have some sort of drama going on. Constant tears, endless bouts of bullshit.
Sighing heavily, I finish off my joint and head back inside. Shedding my uncomfortable clothes, I change into a comfortable pair of gym shorts and a worn t-shirt. Collapsing onto my bed with a heavy thud, I turn to my phone and mindlessly scroll through social media, hoping to distract myself from the chaos surrounding me.
As I scroll through social media, I come across a picture posted by Becca that stops me in my tracks. Her electric blue eyes practically jump off the screen, intensified by her dark hair and porcelain skin. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks only adds to her innocent appearance.
But as I continue to look, that innocence fades away. In other pictures, she sports a backwards hat and skate shoes, confidently holding a skateboard and a joint in her hand. Curiosity getting the best of me, I click on her profile and peruse through each photo, taking in every detail.
Then I stumble upon a candid shot of her at a wild party from last summer. Her dark locks cascade down her bare shoulders, her topless figure on display. My mouth waters at the sight, my arousal growing with each passing second. In the photo, Becca defiantly holds up two middle fingers in front of her nipples, her perky breasts tauntingly perfect. And those long, black nails... I can't help but imagine how they would feel trailing over my skin.
My eyes then fixate on her plump lips, tongue playfully sliding across them in the photo. As I lean back in my seat, I can almost feel those lips wrapped around my...
But then reality comes crashing down.
Becca is a cold-hearted bitch. She can be as pretty as she wants, but that doesn’t change her personality.
I lock my phone and put it on my nightstand, rolling over to go to bed.
Two can play that game, Becca. You better fuckin’ be prepared.