24. Nash
24
NASH
1977
14 years old.
“ W hy are your hands all cut up?”
My eyes snap up to meet Hudson’s gray ones from across the lunch table. I blink at him, trying to process what he just asked me. I hadn’t realized I had been staring at the table, not listening to a word anyone had been saying. The chatter of the students sitting at the tables around us had momentarily drowned out his voice while I got lost in my thoughts.
I clear my throat in an attempt to block out the scraping of lunch trays against the long rows of tables surrounding us and the cash register dinging over by the kitchen across the room. Pizza grease lingers in the air, mixing with what I’m sure is a musty BO smell from the people who had gym before lunch.
“Yeah, are you okay, dude?” Axel asks. He bites into the single slice of bread he packed himself for lunch today. Considering how poor his family is, I’m surprised he has anything at all to bring to school.
I clench my shredded hands into a tight ball and pull them off the cream tabletop to rest on my thighs. “Yeah, I’m all good.”
Luca shoots me a pointed look from beside me. “Let me guess, your dad made you clean up his broken beer bottle again?”
All I can do is stare at him because he’s spot on.
The four of us have been friends long enough that we know more than enough details about the other’s home life. Having shitty parents and a terrible home life is something we all have in common. When we first met back in pre-K, we had no idea about what life was like outside of school for each other. It was only when we got older and started to notice bruises on the other, or there were mentions of parents doing something that wasn’t typical for the parents of our peers, we realized something was wrong. Well, except for Hudson’s parents—they’re the expectation. They have their flaws, but neither of them are as bad as my parents.
I soon realized that my friends understood what I was going through with my parents, and in return, I could offer them the same support in return. It’s why we’re such a tight-knit group.
“Do you even need to ask?” I mumble and chew on my bottom lip.
“Well, don’t feel too bad,” Axel says with a shrug. “My dad slapped me across the face last night because I forgot to take the trash out before he got home from doing whatever it is he does when he’s out.” He points to the light purple bruise forming on his left cheek. “There’s not much we can do about it, you know?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
Hudson offers a comforting smile from across the table. “Look, my parents aren’t going to be home until late because they’re going to some event. I don’t know what because I wasn’t listening, but we should get together and play some music. I know that always helps to take our mind off things.”
I smile at the idea. Playing music with my friends is a way for me to escape the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind and allow me to forget about my parents and everything going on at home.
It’s my safe space.
“You know neither of my parents will be home, so I can stay for a little bit after school, but not too late,” I answer. A twinge of excitement dances up my fingertips at the thought of hanging out with my best friends and doing the one thing I love. “Should we continue writing the song we started last week? I have an idea for it that I want to try out.”
“Me too!” Luca says from beside me with a twinkle of joy in his eyes. “Let’s continue that song.”
Hudson chuckles. “I think it’s a great idea. I will bring my guitar and we can take turns using it.” He turns to Axel. “You in?”
Axel nods as he swallows a mouthful of dry bread. “I’m in.”
Luca nudges my side, and raises a knowing brow at me. “So, are you going to tell us about the girl you met a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah, I want to know more about her since you wouldn’t give us shit,” Axel chimes in.
The memory of her sweet voice and loud laughter echoes in the back of my mind, and I smile, wishing I could hear it again even for just a second. I don’t know her name, but I remember her face as clear as day. How could I not?
My parents got into a massive fight a couple of weeks ago, so I decided to take a walk in the local park. I needed time away from them because they were too much. I can only drown out so much of their yelling with my record player before it no longer works and their voices break through whatever song is playing. Getting some fresh air always clears my head and calms me down.
I was surprised when I spotted a very pretty young girl sitting alone on the swing set in the middle of the night with not a soul around. She seemed… sad. Her long locks covered her face as she stared mindlessly at the ground.
I could’ve kept walking and left her to sit alone, thinking about whatever was on her mind, but I didn’t because curiosity got the best of me. She seemed cautious when I first approached her, but once we got to talking, we couldn’t stop.
Somehow in that moment, I knew she was the light that had been missing from my life.
Our conversation was cut short when her parents found her and demanded she return home. As she walked away from me, I knew I would never forget her. I couldn’t.
“She’s still a mystery to me too,” I say, fighting back a smile. “If I ever see her again, I will let you know.”
Heavy footsteps echo across the cafeteria, drawing our attention to Royce as he marches through the room, heading straight toward our table. His stupid black leather shoes squeak against the white linoleum floor. He’s flanked by his best friend Josh, who equally looks ready for a fight.
Oh no. Not this again .
Royce’s blonde hair is styled neatly and his crisp blue eyes find mine from across the room. I have never seen a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his button-up shirt since the first day of middle school when he shoved me into a locker and called me names. Unprovoked, of course. I was just minding my business. Ever since then, he has made it his mission to make my life more miserable than it already is. For what reason? I’m not sure.
“Well, what do we have here?” Royce’s slightly high-pitched voice makes me cringe. “Just a bunch of losers sitting together doing loser things.”
“Piss off, Royce,” Hudson spits, his gray eyes ablaze. He doesn’t get bullied by Royce as much as I do, but I appreciate him always willing to stick his neck out for me in times like these.
Everyone sitting at the tables surrounding ours falls silent. And soon, the rest of the cafeteria follows suit until we’re sitting in uncomfortable silence. You could hear a pin drop or someone's heartbeat if you listened close enough. There is nothing worse than an audience in this situation because Royce thrives off attention, always making sure his words dig a little deeper when eyes are on him.
I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well .
Royce snorts and bumps his shoulder against Josh. “Woah, he’s such a tough guy, right? Too bad he’s such a loser .”
Inhaling a deep, calming breath, I unfurl my hands and rest them palm down on my thighs. The sting from tiny shards of glass still lodged into the skin is a welcome distraction as I fight the storm threatening to brew deep inside my chest. It’s a sensation I fight against every time I encounter Royce. Which is a lot. I don’t want to show him that his words affect me. I don’t want him to think I’m weak.
“Just get lost, Royce,” I say as calmly as I can. My eyes meet his blue ones and I realize that my words were a mistake. I just made myself the bullseye for his next target.
“Excuse me,” he snarls, his features twisted in disgust. “I wasn’t speaking to you, was I?”
“We’re just trying to have lunch.” I feel Hudson, Luca, and Axel’s eyes on me as I gaze up at Royce. “There is no need to cause a scene.”
Royce snorts and chuckles, but there is no humor in it. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you, loser. With a whore mom and an alcoholic dad, there is no room for you to be making demands, you hear me?”
My blood runs cold. What is he talking about? I know my dad likes to drink, but why is he calling my mom a whore like Dad likes to call her?
When Royce sees the confusion behind my eyes, he bursts out laughing. I watch in silence as he and Josh slap their knees and cry with laughter.
Once he settles down, he tilts his head to the side. “Oh, of course you don’t know. I’m surprised, really. My dad told me he saw your mom getting in a car with a man who wasn’t your father a couple of nights ago in the parking lot beside the gas station near our house. He said the man handed over some money and then she sucked him off.”
“Shut up, Royce!” Hudson booms from across the table, but I barely register his voice.
The buzz of students whispering fades into static and my face grows hot as I stare at Royce. My fists clench tightly on my thighs and I want nothing more than to use them to knock the smile off his face. I’m not a violent person, but the string holding onto the calmness in my soul is beyond breaking point now. It’s so close to snapping that if he says one more thing?—
“Hey,” Royce says to Josh, nudging his ribs with his elbow. Josh turns to him with wide, eager eyes as he hangs onto his friend's every word. “Do you reckon I could pay his mom to suck me off? With how old she is, I doubt she would be any good anyway. Though she’s a whore, she can’t even do that right.”
I don’t remember much of what happened after my vision turned red and the frayed string in my soul snapped into tiny pieces.
At first, it was painful. I registered my hands connecting with Royce’s cheek and then his nose before he fell to the ground and I was on top of him. I felt the crunch of his bones as they splintered beneath the fury of my fists. I heard his cries of pain and other voices yelling and screaming for me to stop.
But I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t .
Once that string had snapped, I was too far gone.
When Hudson finally pulled me off Royce’s body, I saw the blood coating most of his face and my knuckles. It was thick, and hot, and smelled awful. It was all I could smell as Josh dragged his friend away from me.
Although my muscles and knuckles ached with a pain I had never felt before in my life, I couldn’t deny how freeing it felt to finally get the pent-up anger and frustration off my chest.
The string didn’t snap because Royce spoke badly about my mom. No. I didn’t care about that because knowing my mom, I knew Royce’s words were full of truth. She is who she is and that will never change.
I snapped because, in that moment of Royce talking down to me the same way my dad does, I felt weak. And I hate feeling weak. If I’m weak, I will never escape the life I’m living. That much I know.
To avoid weakness, I need to stand up more for myself, otherwise everyone in my life will continue to walk all over me.
But that’s never going to happen again. The blood on my hands and Royce’s broken nose is proof of that.