Twunt
I go the rest of the weekend without hearing from any of them. The only person who is still talking to me is Ryleigh. I’ve not tried to text the guys, though, so maybe it’s just as much my fault as it is theirs. Possibly more mine, since I’ve yet to apologize. I work my feelings away at the restaurant, and get banging tips in return for it. Doesn’t really make that much of a difference to me, I just drop it in the bank and move on. It’ll be there when I need it.
Gramps hasn’t really been up to moving around much the past couple of days, so I’ve been making sure that he doesn’t need anything while I’ve been home. Sunday night is particularly bad when he goes into a coughing fit that scares the shit out of me.
Needless to say, as I wake up Monday morning, I feel worse than hammered ass from not having any sleep. I get assurances from Robert that he’s going to take Gramps to the doctor before I catch the bus for school. I want to stay and take him myself, but Gramps spills some bullshit about a good education. Right, because that’s going to get me out of here.
I fall asleep in half of my classes and just grunt in reply to everything that Billy says to me at lunch. I’m not in a social mood. At least not with anyone at this school.
I’m super cranky as I make my way into the bathroom. Sitting down to do my business, I hear the door open and close.
“Did you hear that trailer park got Derrik beat up over the weekend?” Stacey says loud enough to echo around the bathroom. They had to of followed me in here.
“Come on, Stace. I heard her grandpa is really sick,” the new girl says.
Stacey huffs and then laughs, “Yeah, her grandma died a couple years ago too. Must be the trailer trash plague. Best stay away or you’ll catch it too.”
I’ve had about all I can take for the day. I yank the door open so hard that it smacks against the wall loud enough to sound like a gunshot, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Stacey.”
She whips around, “What’s wrong, trash? Grandma a soft subject for you? I’d bet that’s where you learned how to be a whore.”
Adrenaline courses through my body, and I move faster than I ever have before. My fist connects with Stacey’s face with a loud crunch. She screams, and her two friends take off running.
“Say what you want about me, but you keep your fucking mouth shut about her,” I say through my teeth.
“What’s going on in here, Ms. Davis?” Mrs. Carpenter demands as she stalks through the door. The pod squad is right on her heels, but she yells at them to go back to class.
She helps Stacey to her feet, “Let’s go, you two.”
Stacey squeaks, “She attacked me Mrs. C, I was just trying to use the bathroom.”
“You can tell your lies to Mr. Brooks,” she tells a horrified Stacey.
I’ve never once been sent to the principal’s office. There wouldn’t be a better reason than this. I’ll accept the consequences of my actions, and maybe next time Stacey will know better than to use my family against me.
Mrs. Carpenter drops a still bleeding Stacey off at the nurse, and then herds me into Mr. Brooks’ office. She shuts the door behind herself as she talks to him, “Found these ladies fighting in the bathroom. The other one is over at the nurse’s office.” The nurse’s office? Why can’t she just call her by her name? I know that the two of them are good buddies outside of school. For some reason this strikes me as hilarious, and it cracks me up. I’m in one of those delirious moods from not getting enough sleep, one of those where you get the giggles, and can’t stop.
“You think this is funny, Ms. Davis?” Mr. Brooks asks.
I shake my head instead of answering out loud. I’m scared the giggles will break free again and that won’t do anything good for my current situation.
“Why were you fighting?” he asks as he’s filling out paperwork on his desk.
Biting back what I really want to say, instead I tell him, “She’s been saying shit that she shouldn’t.”
His eyes flick up to mine, “Language.”
I shrug, and Mrs. Carpenter comes into my line of vision, “Was she the person you covered for the other day?”
Staring her right in the eye, I tell her the truth, “No.”
She sighs, and Mr. Brooks takes over again, “Well, god forbid there be a next time, but if there is, it’s best to tell someone instead of fighting amongst yourselves. Violence is never the answer. You of all people should know that, Ms. Davis.”
What the actual fuck?
“Are you serious right now?” I ground out before I can stop myself. “And why me of all people Mr. Brooks? Because of where I live? Because both of my parents are in jail?”
“Stop blowing things way out of proportion Ms. Davis,” he replies in a monotone voice as if he hears the same teenage bullshit day in and day out.
I sigh, “Can I please just have my punishment, so I can go back to class?”
He shakes his head and hands me a pink slip of paper, “You need to gather your belongings and leave school grounds. You’re suspended for three days for fighting.”
Feeling the shock on my face, I try to maneuver it into a more neutral ‘don’t give a fuck’ stare.
“Is there someone we can call to come pick you up, Kendall?” Mrs. Carpenter asks softly.
Staring at her for a second, I finally say, “No ma’am. My Gramps is probably at the doctor right now. I’ll be fine.”
She nods, and I gather up my stuff that I was smart enough to bring with me from the bathroom. When I walk out of the office, it’s with my head held high. That only lasts so long, because it’s drizzling rain outside. I take a deep breath of fresh air and steel my nerves.
Pulling out my phone, I send out a group text to the guys.
I’m sorry.
Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black if I stay pissed at Maverick for overreacting, when I just did the same exact thing. I’m not in the mood for their responses, so I turn the phone on vibrate and stuff it in my pocket. Thankfully, I’m not carrying much today that it will hurt to get wet. I tighten the leather jacket around my body and step out into the rain.
It’s a long walk home and I’m soaked to the bone when I get there. The Malibu is missing from the driveway, so Robert must still have Gramps at the doctor. I’m worried fucking sick over his health. I know he doesn’t have much longer left, but he’s giving it every fighting chance. Any thought of it makes me want to puke.
I let myself into the house and head straight to the shower. I need to get my temperature up pronto, and chase these chills away, or I’m going to end up sick as a dog. After my shower, I don’t bother doing anything other than crawling underneath my covers and falling right to sleep.
It feels like it’s only been a few minutes when I hear Gramps calling out for me. I groan and twist myself up further into my blankets like a burrito.
“Kendall?” he calls again.
If I don’t get my ass up, he’ll have to come get me or what if something is wrong? I jerk up so fast that I go tumbling back to the floor again with an ‘oomph’. Unwrapping from my blanket, I stumble to the doorway where I promptly crack my pinky toe on the corner of the wall.
“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” I try to keep it quiet since Gramps isn’t a huge fan of cussing.
I hop on one foot down the short hallways, “What is it Gramps? Are you ok?”
For the first time in years, an actual smile passes over his face. “Everything is fine, but you may want to go put some more clothes on. We have company.”
I’d been so focused on making sure that he was ok, that I completely miss Goose sitting on the couch across from Gramps’ chair.
“Shit,” I say, back tracking down the hallway, but not before I watch him get an eyeful of me head to toe. I’m in my usual sleep stuff, a tank top and pair of boy shorts, so he doesn’t see more than if I was in a one-piece swimsuit, but still.
Gramps is laughing too hard to correct me, even though wheezing and trying not to cough is more like it. I throw on the first thing that my fingers land on, an old Metallica shirt with holes all in it and a pair of cutoff jeans that I normally mow grass in. Fuck it. He knows I’m not rich, so why should I pretend to be. My hair probably looks like I have a whole family of rats living in it from not brushing after the shower, but I don’t care about that either. Having Goose in the house is making me anxious and I just want to rush him off as soon as I can.
When I make it back to the living room, Goose is helping Gramps up from his chair. I stick out my arm on the other side to help.
“Thank you,” he says out of breath from just standing up. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit, Kendall. You and your young man are welcome to stay here in the living room.” I take that to mean that I’m not allowed to have him in my bedroom, so I nod that I understand.
“Need help getting there?” I ask.
He smiles sadly at me and shakes his head, “No, but I would like to know why you were home from school early today. Were you sick?”
I hate to disappoint him, but I have to tell him the truth, “No sir. I got suspended for three days, because I punched Stacey Marsh in the face.”
In most cases parents would chastise a child for fighting. Gramps looks like he’s fighting a smile, “Did she deserve it?”
I nod, “She’s a dirty twunt and wouldn’t quit saying bad shit about Nana.”
He looks proud for a moment, then confused, “What’s a twunt?”
My face turns red. There’s no way I’m going to explain that it’s a mix between twat and cunt, since I refuse to say either word. Goose has apparently put them together, because he’s fighting a smile. “It’s just a new age insult.”
He shrugs and ambles his way to the bedroom, mumbling about kids these days. Stopping his door, he looks at me over his shoulder, “Proud of you for sticking up for her, Pea.”
My sad smile follows him the rest of the way in the room, and then I turn to Goose to ask, “What are you doing here?”
The grin he throws me could rival any of the other guys any day of the week, “Now that’s not very hospitable of you.”
I fold my arms across my chest, “You could have at least called first. I don’t like anyone coming in here, because he’s not feeling too well.”
“Ok, one,” he starts, “I did call. Not even an hour after you sent the text. And for two, he was feeling well enough to grill me on my intentions for about thirty minutes before he woke you up.”
My mouth drops open in horror, “You’re kidding. I’m so freaking sorry.”
He half shrugs and sends me another grin, “It’s ok. I was expecting it before I came over, because you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” I say. “He doesn’t need to be moving around too much. It’s hard for him to breathe right now.”
“I’m truly sorry,” he repents. “I’ll make sure that I follow all the rules next time.”
Next time? He plans on repeating this?
“Thank you,” I say nicely. “Now what are you doing here.”
He throws his head back and laughs and it brings a smile to my face.
“This weekend sucked balls, so I just wanted to see if you’d like to hang out for a little while,” he admits.
I take a second to think on it. I’m off work and if he leaves right now, the only thing I’m going to do is go back to sleep. “Only if there’s a promise of food,” I say causing him to laugh again.
“I’m sure we can find something to whip up here,” he says, then notices my reaction, “Or we can go to my house. The folks are out of town, so it’s pretty quiet around there.”
My hands motion to my clothes, “Ok, but give me a few minutes to change.”
He does that crazy bowing thing again and I roll my eyes at him when he smiles up at me. I walk back towards my room and I’m almost there when I realize that he’s followed me down the hall. He’s scanning the pictures on the wall. Somehow that seems more personal to me than him seeing me half naked.
“This was your Nana?” he asks softly.
When I move to stand next to him, he shifts, and our arms brush against each other. I ignore the tingles that jolt down into my fingertips, “Yep. That’s her and Gramps right before I came to live with them.” I point to one of the smaller ones next to it, “That was my first birthday with them.”
His eyebrows crease, “Why do you look so sad?”
I smile as the memory washes over me, “Because I had just finished crying. I’d never had a real birthday before, so Nana wanted it to be perfect, and she forgot the candles for the cake. You would have thought it was the end of the world with the way that she cried. Something not a lot of people know about me is that I’m a sympathy crier. It set me off, and of course that made her cry even harder. Gramps probably thought we were insane that day, but he was a good sport about it.”
“I feel for him just hearing the story,” he says with a fake shudder.
I elbow his arm, “I’m going to get dressed. Be right back.”
One arm is propping up the other on his chest as he admires the rest of the photos, “Mmm hmm.”
I roll my eyes again and go to find some clothes. I need to do laundry since I was a fucking bum all weekend, and haven’t done any in about four days. That’s about the extent of my pants. I’m down to my least favorite pair that’s shoved in the back of my drawer. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. I throw them on and search for a decent shirt without any holes. I find a school shirt from when we had to buy them for gym. It doesn’t have any holes, because I wasn’t stupid enough to wear it outside of school.
Just as I strip my Metallica shirt off, I hear a small half choking half coughing sound behind me. I turn to find Goose standing there with his eyes wandering my exposed body.
It puts chill bumps on the surface of my skin, “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he smiles.
I raise my eyebrow and he says, “What? I’ve already seen everything now. What’s the point in turning around?”
My heart pounds almost out my chest and I don’t know what makes me say it, but I do, “Not everything.”
I can’t help the laugh that springs from my chest at the look on his face, and I yank the shirt over my head.
His expression quickly turns to disgust as he sees the name of my school on the front, “Yeah, we’re going to have to get you a new shirt.”
I can’t help where I go to school, so I just shrug. He walks around the small space of my room, checking out what little there is to see. There are only a few pictures of Nana, Gramps and me. Plus the one of me and the VanPelt brothers before the accident. Goose doesn’t comment on that one, though. The rest are ones I took a while ago when my camera still worked. “Gramps would shit bricks if he saw you in here right now,” I tell him.
He ignores me as he leans over to examine my water collage, “Did you take all of these?”
“Yep,” I confirm. “A long time ago.”
“Are there any recent ones?” he asks.
I shake my head, “My camera broke a few years ago, and I just haven’t had a chance to get it fixed or replaced yet.”
“Hmm,” he says. “You’ve really got an eye for detail. Are you going to major in photography in college?”
I laugh, “You’re kidding right?” When he just looks at me in confusion, I throw my arms out, “I’m not going to college. I’ll be right here working and taking care of Gramps.” I’m not bitter about it, not really. I’ve always known what my fate would be, and the best I can hope for is to make good grades, get a small scholarship or loan through financial aid, and take a few night classes at the community college.
He doesn’t say anything for a long while, and even though he’s not looking at me, it makes me anxious, “Are you ready to go?”
After nodding, he leads the way to the door. I check on Gramps before we leave, and find him asleep. Once we get outside, my steps falter. Sitting in our driveway is an old Ford truck, completely restored down to its teeth.
“Holy shit, that’s a nice truck,” I tell him.
“You like it?” he asks. “I don’t know if you know this yet or not, but Lucas is from a family of mechanics. He and his four older brothers restore cars in their spare time. For fun.” He says the last like it’s the most horrid thing someone could do with free time. “But anyways, they finished this one last year and I bought it off of them.”
It’s a cherry red in color and it shines in the sun. “Did they do the paint too?” I ask reaching to run my finger down the side.
He shakes his head, “Nah, they paid someone for that.”
“Well, she’s beautiful,” I say still in awe, not just over the truck, but to find out that Lucas works on cars. I could picture Goose doing it and possibly even Maverick, but not sweet Lucas.
Goose comes around me and opens the door as he gestures for me to get in. I smile in thanks, and get one in return that makes my heart skip about three beats before it picks back up again.