Chapter 13 #2
Why me, God?
I scramble upright again, tray in hand, then bolt outside as fast as my wobbly legs can take me. Fuck the bottled water. I’ll die thirsty. I sink onto the metal bench opposite Leah, my eyes downcast, too mortified to look at her.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
There’s genuine concern in her voice. I’ll be forever grateful to her for not laughing at my expense.
I force a small smile. “You saw that, huh?”
“Yeah,” she answers, abandoning her meal to focus on me. “Do you know her?”
I open my mouth to respond but hesitate. How much do I tell her? Disclosing my family drama could scare her away. Truth be told, I wouldn’t blame her one bit if it did. Anyone with common sense would think twice before involving themselves in a messy situation.
Moreover, being my friend could make her a social pariah. It’s better if she learns everything from me. She’s bound to find out on her own anyway. I’m pretty sure Deja is making it her personal mission to alert the entire student population about my “slutbag” ways.
“She’s my cousin,” I admit. “Kinda hard to believe, right?”
Leah’s lips form a perfect O. “Definitely wasn’t expecting a blood relation.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” I say jokingly, though my stomach is doing somersaults. “Deja… um… my mother—”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable sharing.
” She reaches across the table and grasps my hand.
“For what it’s worth, Deja and her friends pick on me too.
But only when my bestie isn’t around. This is her lunch block, but per usual, she’s off doing only God knows what.
Just know that I’ll be all ears whenever you’re ready to talk. ”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Are we cool then? I completely understand if you want to think over hanging out with me.”
“Of course we’re cool,” Leah assures me. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. Anyway, it’s still my goal to persuade you to the vegan lifestyle.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I say, popping the lid off my marinara sauce. “I love cheese way too much to ever go vegan. Real cheese.” I dunk a mozzarella stick in the sauce before taking a bite. “So, who’s your bestie?”
“Her name is Meela. You’ll meet her crazy ass soon.”
Crazy? I hope this Meela is as welcoming as Leah.
I push the pending introduction to the back of my mind and gobble down the fried gooey goodness.
“Damn, that hit the spot.” I grin, rubbing my belly. “All hail to the mighty cows for their delicious gift to the human race.”
“Oh God.” Leah chuckles, rolling her eyes skyward at my antics. “Dramatic must be your middle name.”
“It is,” I state sweetly.
Leah chuckles again and refocuses her attention on her lunch, biting into a pineapple.
Silence settles between us, and my thoughts shift to all the goals I need to accomplish before graduation. “By the way, where are you doing your community service hours? Think you can help me get on there?”
I need to get the ball rolling on completing my forty hours pronto. The sooner the better. Then I can focus on more important things, like finding a job and picking up as many shifts as possible. Graduation, figuratively speaking, is right around the corner.
“Sibley General Hospital, but not for community service hours,” she states, slathering chicken salad onto a cracker. “I completed mine freshman year but still volunteer there.”
“Damn, you’re ready to walk across the stage while my procrastinating ass has zero hours.”
She chuckles. “Well, not quite. I’m just a lowly junior.”
“Really?” My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. “Thought you were a senior for sure.”
“Nope, but I do have most of my credits already. I’m the resident brainiac.” Leah shrugs nonchalantly. “Highest GPA in the whole school. Next year I’ll have a half-day schedule and take college courses in the afternoons.”
I whistle. “Must be nice.”
“It’s okay,” she draws out. “Being the perfect student comes with a hefty price. I’m not allowed to make the slightest mistake, ever.
Getting a grade lower than an A is unacceptable.
I love my dad to death, but sometimes the amount of pressure he puts on me is just too much.
I know he wants what’s best for me, but sometimes I want to run away.
Start over somewhere and just be a normal, carefree teenager. ”
I nod in understanding. “You’re my kindred spirit.”
My predicament is similar to hers. The only difference is that Leah’s father wants what’s best for her, and my mother wants what’s best for herself. Both aspirations are equally damaging to a kid. Enough gloom and doom for one day. On to the important stuff.
“What do you do at the hospital?”
“Patient care,” Leah replies. “Delivering meals, toiletries, blankets, anything patients need.”
“I can handle that,” I assure her. “Easy peasy.”
“Apply on the hospital’s website under the community service tab,” she instructs me. “There’s a waitlist, but I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll get that done this evening.”
“I work in the gift shop too. That’s a paid position.”
I could kill two birds with one stone. “Any openings?”
“Not right now, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you.”
“Dang.” I suck my teeth in disappointment. “Thanks for helping a sister out.”
“Girl, don’t even mention it. I volunteer Saturday and Sunday mornings, then start my shift right—”
A body drops heavily next to Leah, straddling the metal bench. “What the fuck is this shit?”
She goes ramrod-straight, her pupils dilating with unadulterated fear.
Who is this boy? Though referring to him as a boy isn’t an accurate description by far.
The newcomer resembles a full-grown man with his towering height, herculean build, and chiseled features.
Obsidian eyes and a thick raven mane offset his olive skin perfectly.
Dark prince comes to mind. With several piercings adorning his face and a cross dangling from his left earlobe that screams irony, he exudes danger.
An elaborate snake tattoo coils along his neck, disappearing underneath a fitted black hoodie.
I study the sinister clown dominating the front, taking in its misshapen face, evil grin, and razor-sharp teeth.
His broad shoulders are encased in a leather vest. SNAKE and BLOOD GOD are stitched above the right breast pocket, with ORIGINAL CHAPTER and KENT positioned identically on the left.
Each word is embroidered in black on a white background.
The dark prince helps himself to Leah’s lunch, scooping chicken salad onto a cracker and popping it into his mouth. He retches and spits the chewed remnants back into the plastic container, effectively ruining her meal, then leans his big body into hers.
“Disgusting,” he whispers in her ear. “Just like you.”
Leah’s hands form tight fists on the table. Fat tears drip from her eyes, painting wet paths on her two-toned skin. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while he trash-talks her. Granted, I don’t know what caused the bad blood between them, but that’s a moot point. I can’t watch him make her cry.
“Leave her alone,” I demand in a paper-thin voice.
His charcoal gaze bores into me, sending an arctic blast rippling down my spine. I collapse in on myself, bravado dissipating instantly. This guy is fucking scary as hell.
“I’ll give you a pass for today only, since you’re new here,” he remarks in a deep, raspy timbre. “But you better learn damn quick that no one fucks with a God.”
Imparting his words of wisdom, he gets up and ambles away. I spot a skull logo on the back of his vest, etched in the center. The letters MC sit to the right of the symbol. GODS OF RUIN span the top, with OREGON stretching across the bottom.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” Leah rebukes, her fingers roughly swiping at her wet cheeks.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammer. “I was only trying to help.”
“Help?” Leah retorts. “You just made things worse. Snake has bullied me since middle school, and your attempt at helping won’t change a damn thing. He’s going to corner me later and finish what he started. He always does. I get through it by saying nothing… by doing nothing.”
“What about telling an adult?” I ask lamely.
“You’re fucking clueless,” she ridicules, breathing out through clenched teeth. “I talk and the bullying gets ten times worse. The Gods run Oregon. Hell, they run half the states on the West Coast. No one would dare cross them. No one with functioning brain cells anyway.”
My throat seizes, my muscles working nervously. “Who are the Gods?”
“A motorcycle gang you don’t want as an enemy.” Leah stands and gathers her stuff. “Look, I’m an outcast. I have one friend in this whole forsaken school. My life is hard enough. I don’t need anyone in it that’s going to make it harder.”
“Leah, wait,” I call at her back. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
She keeps walking, ignoring me. My appetite disappears. I’m right back to where I started this morning—dejected and friendless.
The bell pierces my melancholy. I wrap my food in napkins to eat later and drag my feet to my locker.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the auditorium, waiting for drama class to start. I fidget in the uncomfortable wooden seat, racking my brain about what to do next. Maybe Leah just needs some time to cool off. I’ll try to talk to her after school and hope for the best.
Deja sashays by with a girl I recognize from the cafeteria, souring my mood further. She notices me and whispers in her friend’s ear. They snicker at my expense, no doubt, and sit several rows ahead of me. I thrust my middle finger at their backs. Bitches.
“Hello, my darlings!” A bald man announces, waltzing into the auditorium.
This must be Mr. Rousseau, the drama teacher and a favorite among the students, judging by their enthusiastic responses.
A colorful striped blouse and heather-gray slacks mold to his slim, athletic frame.
His royal-purple high heels clink hard against the floor as he climbs onto the stage with an energetic bounce.
Very chic and fashionable. He strides to the center of the platform.
The overhead lights paint a bright spot on his hairless crown.
“Today, we’ll conclude auditions for Beauty and the Beast,” he continues in a thick French accent. “Stacy, Tina, you both would like to audition for the role of Belle, yes?”
They both express the desire to display their acting skills.
“And you are, my darling?” he asks me.
“Zilphia Kensley,” I respond. “New kid on the block.”
“It’s nice to have you here.” He bows slightly. “Would you like to audition for a leading role or a supporting role?”
I cringe, neither option appealing to me. “I prefer not to audition.”
“Sure, my darling, but you must participate to receive a grade,” he states. “We’ll find a position for you on the stage crew.”
The tension in my shoulder eases. “I can handle that.”
“All right, let’s begin,” Mr. Rousseau announces. “Stacy, come to the stage, my darling. Henry, you as well. You’ll read the lines for Beast. Act 5, Scene 1.”
Deja turns around and sears me with her contemptuous gaze. “Like your nasty skank ass could’ve bested me anyway. I auditioned for Belle yesterday, and Mr. Rousseau will for sure give that part to me, guaranteed.”
“Girl, yes, you have it locked down,” her friend agrees, boosting my cousin’s already fat head. “You’re better than all these basic bitches in here.”
“Period,” she gloats.
That’s it. I’ve had enough of her bullshit.
I raise my hand. “Mr. Rousseau, I changed my mind,” I say, returning my cousin’s hateful glare. “I want to audition for Belle.”
“Wonderful, wonderful!” he exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly. “You’ll audition after Tina.”
I smirk at Deja. “May the best girl win.”
She scowls at me, but no comeback is forthcoming.
I hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew.
I’ve performed on stage before, but that was thirteen years ago.
My beauty pageant days are long gone. I remember absolutely loathing every second of it.
I didn’t aspire to become Miss USA. That was Momma’s dream, and she just dragged me along for the ride, reliving her youth through me. She made the experience not fun.
I never won first place, and each loss resulted in a verbal tongue-lashing.
In some cases, verbal abuse is far worse than physical abuse.
Eventually she said I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore, and my beauty pageant contestant days came to a sudden end.
That was one of the happiest moments of my existence.
All too soon, it’s my turn to audition. Mr. Rousseau hands me the script, and I mount the stage stairs, heart hammering in my eardrums. It feels like cotton balls are lodged in my throat. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? Me and my big, gigantic mouth.
Chill. You got this.
I watched Beauty and the Beast a gazillion times. It was one of my favorite movies as a kid. Yep, this will be a cakewalk. I take center stage, and my confidence crumbles to dust. Well hell. I stand there, trembling in my wedges, words failing me. I part my lips, but only a croak emerges.
Deja snickers behind her hand.
That does the trick.
My vocal cords and limbs move into action, following Mr. Rousseau’s every directive. I read the lines effortlessly, then dance, frolic, and sing—giving it my all. Broadway has nothing on me. I belt out the final note, breathless and with a smile on my face. I fucking killed it.
“Amazing!” Mr. Rousseau praises, applauding my performance.
Take that, Deja.