3. Shane
Shane
Sophomore Year
Mr. Gibbs’ front door swings open just as an egg splatters against the frame.
“Oh fuck. Run!” JT yells.
For the record, it was Gabe’s brilliant idea to start egging our teachers’ houses, but we take turns picking who the next target is.
All of us jumped at the idea of doing our English teacher because the guy’s a dick.
In hindsight, we probably should have waited until a little later because it isn’t dark enough, and he definitely just saw us when he opened the door.
Mr. Gibbs yells from his porch, and we all bolt in different directions. If we get caught, we’re so fucked. The school’s sick of Gabe’s bullshit, and at this point, they’re just looking for an excuse to expel him.
Running down the road, I dart into the tree line when I reach the woods. One of the kids from the soccer team, Nate, is on my heels as sirens wail from behind us.
“Fuck,” he pants. “He called the fucking cops.”
“Shit,” I mutter ducking behind a tree so I can scope the area for the others.
JT darts through the woods next. He stops when he sees us and shifts behind another tree.
“Where’s Akers?” Nate whispers.
He tagged along even though he’s a year below us and doesn’t even have Mr. Gibbs.
Another bad idea.
Jon gave us a long lecture a month ago about dragging Akers along. He said if we’re going to let him join us, we need to look out for him.
I’m looking at him now, standing near the road and watching the cop cars pull up like a deer in headlights.
I don’t think that’s what Jon meant.
“Shit! We are so fucked,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
“Goddamn it,” Nate mutters, closing his eyes like he’s debating something. He sighs loudly before pushing off the tree and heading back toward the road.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yell, but he doesn’t turn back, just waves me off and continues running out directly in front of the cops.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but one of the officers approaches him, and they talk for a few minutes.
Eventually, the officer pats him on the back before getting into his car. Nate jogs over to us.
As he approaches, I ask, “What the fuck was that?”
“My dad’s the sheriff. I’m screwed when I get home, but they wouldn’t arrest me for egging. You on the other hand…”
I had no idea his dad was the sheriff. Which I feel a little bad about now that he just stuck his neck out for us.
“Holy shit. You saved our asses,” I say, not understanding why he’d do that.
“Yeah, man. We’re friends. That’s what we do.” He smacks my arm before walking back up the road.
Guilt creeps up my throat because I’m not sure I’d have done the same for him.
When I look back up to the tree line, Gabe stands at the edge, cackling and jumping around.
Crazy fucker.
We load up and head home, too amped-up from the adrenaline to worry about the consequences yet.
There’s a high that comes with getting away with something you shouldn’t have done, but I’m not stupid enough to think we’ll be completely off the hook.
Nothing happens in this town that Jon doesn’t find out about, and I’d be surprised if he doesn’t already know by the time we get there.
“Gabriel Jonathan Abbott, what were you thinking?” Colette shouts the second we step in the front door.
Busted.
“Oh, come on, Mom. It was just eggs. Don’t make a big deal about it.”
“It is a big deal. Your teacher called. If he could prove it, your ass would be expelled. I know you boys don’t care about school now, but you will one day.”
“I doubt that. I don’t need a diploma for the club.”
Jon, who’s sitting in the living room, reading the paper, snaps his attention to us at Gabe’s shitty tone.
“I also suggest you watch your mouth when you speak to your mother. I’m pretty sure your place in my club is my choice to make, and if you get expelled there will be no club for you.”
The look on his face says it all—we both need to tread very carefully. I don’t think he’ll hit Gabe. I’ve never seen him explode at least. But one thing I’ve learned is he doesn’t tolerate disrespect toward Colette, and he will ground him for the rest of his life if he has to.
“Okay. It won’t happen again,” Gabe mutters under his breath before stomping up the stairs.
“Sorry. It was stupid. We should have known better,” I say.
“It’s okay. Just no more nonsense, got it?” Colette says, then gestures me to go upstairs with Gabe.
And that’s it. That’s the end of the discipline from the Abbotts. When he asks to go somewhere tomorrow with JT, they’ll probably tell him no, but they’ll sit down at the dinner table and talk about their day like they do every other night.
My palms sweat and my stomach is in knots for the rest of the evening until it’s time for Colette to take me home.
I consider asking her not to say anything to my dad, but I’m worried she’ll ask questions, and I don’t want to have to explain how my dad doesn’t let me off the hook the way Jon does Gabe. So, by the time she pulls up at my house, I’ve decided to just pray he hasn’t heard.
The second I step through the front door, that hope whooshes out of my lungs, replaced by the stench of cigarettes and booze.
It’s a small house, and the living room opens up to the to the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table with an ashtray, his neck painted a dark crimson.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been here a few months, and you’ve already managed to make me look bad!” he spits, standing from his chair and tossing his plastic plate into the sink with a clatter. “It’s no wonder your bitch of a mother sent you away.”
I swallow, lifting my chin but not saying a word.
“If she’d have done her job to begin with, you’d know better than to go around town vandalizing shit.” As he approaches, the smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke fills my nose. “You ain’t got nothing to say?”
Smack.
His open hand makes contact with the side of my head.
I drop my eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No shit, it won’t happen again. Everyone in town knows you’re my kid.” He brings his face to within an inch of mine, spit misting my cheek as he says, “Don’t you think for a second that I won’t find out every move you make.”
I grit my teeth and try to push past him, but he grabs my arm and slams me back into the wall, knocking the wind out of me.
“You think I’m done?” A raspy chuckle leaves his throat. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let some little fucking punk make a fool of me in my goddamn town.”
I grit my teeth and hold my tongue.
Crack.
It happens so fast, I’m not sure if it was the back of his hand or his fist, but pain explodes across my nose, and my eyes water.
My hands fly to my face, and he takes a step back, moving to the front door before flinging it open. “Get the fuck out. I can’t stand to even look at you.”
As I pull my hand away, blood trickles down my palm.
When I don’t move fast enough, he grabs my upper arm and shoves me out the front door before slamming it behind me. I stand there for a few minutes, wiping my bloody nose on my sleeve.
I could go back to Gabe’s house, his mom always tells me I can stay anytime.
But if I show up looking like this, she’ll wanna know what happened.
I don’t want her pity, and I don’t want to know what will happen if they don’t believe me.
Losing the only place I can let my guard down is a risk I’m not willing to take.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I look around. I’m gonna have to stay at Gran’s tonight. She already knows her son’s a piece of shit, so I don’t have to hide it from her.
I think she’d let me live with her if she could, but for whatever reason my dad refuses to let her take me from him. Honestly, it makes no sense considering he obviously doesn’t like having me here, but nothing he does ever makes much sense to me.
It’s not a far walk to her house, but it’s definitely not enjoyable with the throbbing in my face and the headache creeping in behind my eyes.
And thankfully, it’s bingo night at the community center, so she’s not home when I get there.
Perfect. I can sneak in and hide out in my room all night.
The next morning, my eyes have purple bruises around them, leaving me to look like a raccoon. Gran’s in the kitchen when I finally come out.
As I round the corner, she jumps, placing a hand over her chest. “Holy shit! Shane? What are you—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “Your face!”
It looks much worse than it feels.
She puts her hands on my cheeks, but I pull away.
“I’m fine.”
“Adam did this, didn’t he?”
“No. I got into a fight at school,” I lie.
“Where do you go to school? Fight club? Shane, I wasn’t born yesterday,” she says, moving to the kitchen to get an ice pack from the freezer. “Did you stay here last night?”
“It’s not a big deal.” I follow her, stopping in the doorway. “Really.”
“Honey, you need to tell your mother.”
She places it on my nose.
“I’m not telling her shit,” I bite.
I don’t like talking about Brenda. I wouldn’t tell her hello if we were the only two people left on Earth, I’m sure as shit not going to tell her about this. She wouldn’t care anyway. As long as I’m out of her hair, she’s happy.
Gran pins me with a sad look, so I lift my brows and say, “I’m fine.”
She shakes her head. “Sweetheart, we have to tell someone. He can’t keep this shit up. Look at you!”
Placing a hand under my chin she tilts my face up to the light.
I jerk away.
“I’m calling the police. This is too far.”
As she turns to head toward the phone, I dart out and grab her wrist. “Please don’t. I won’t tell them anything.”
“Shane—”
“No. I’ll tell them it was a fight with some kid from school. It’ll be your word against mine.”
Her shoulders slump, and she’s quiet for a beat. “It’s just not right. You don’t deserve to be stuck in that house with him.”
“Like I said, I’m fine.”
She takes me in for a second before taking a deep breath. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“I don’t care. Whatever you were planning to make is fine.” I take the ice pack from her, move back to the living room, and flop onto the couch while she makes French toast.
She doesn’t say much else about my face or my mother as we eat, and I call JT for a ride to school right after.
By the time the end of the day rolls around, my headache is unbearable. I lay in bed, trying to ride it out for hours before deciding I can’t take it anymore and head into the kitchen to look for Tylenol.
You’d think I’d know where everything is here by now, but I try to spend as little time in this house as I can.
My mom keeps her medications in the kitchen cabinet next to the sink, so I start there.
When all I find are dishes, I open the one above the microwave and feel around.
My hand brushes against something, and I pull it down, finding it to be heavier than I expected.
Once I place it on the counter, I lift the lid and my brows pinch.
It’s full of plastic bags. Each has different colored tablets, and some have a white powder in them.
I’m not stupid; everyone in town talks about the Riders drug dealings, but even knowing that, my mouth pops open as I look down at the stash of drugs.
My pulse picks up, but I don’t move for a few long moments before opening up one of the baggies with white tablets and dropping a couple of them into my palm.
Paranoia sets in and I look behind me briefly before closing everything up and shoving it all back into the cabinet.
I’m not sure what the pills are exactly, but I could probably sell them at school if I found out.
Or…
Surely, whatever they are would probably kill the headache, right?
Stopping just before my room, I dig them out of my pocket and stare down at the two tablets in my palm. Without much more thought, I throw the two pills into my mouth and swallow.
For the first time in months, I actually sleep through the night.