Chapter Four
Avery
There was something calming about trains. I wasn’t sure why. For as long as I could remember, I’d been fascinated by them: how they could go from one place to another so fast, the wailing of their horn—a drawn-out sound that pierced the air and echoed for miles.
Sometimes, I’d even imagine hopping on one and just letting it take me anywhere. Anywhere but where I was.
As I sat on the front porch, I listened to the train as it moved down the railroad tracks near my home. The sun had already set, and it was late into the night. I should’ve been in bed since I had school the next morning, but I couldn’t sleep.
Too much was on my mind.
That first week at school had gone all right. Nothing too crazy or awful had happened. Yet. I hadn’t made any friends, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. My attitude hadn’t helped matters any. The one guy who’d tried talking to me? I’d been a jerk to him. In my head, it had been for good reason, but I felt bad about it. A little.
The end of August air was nice, and I wished summer could stay forever. Fall was okay, but it just meant winter was around the corner, and I hated the cold.
There’d been too many nights where I’d laid awake shivering because the temperature had plummeted, and our heater had been broken. Or sometimes our electricity had been shut off. On those nights, Declan and I’d slept side by side to try to stay warm.
Headlights glared across my vision, and I looked to see Mom’s car pull into the driveway.
It was an old clunker that she’d paid a wad of cash for. The engine overheated sometimes, and the shocks were shot to crap, but at least it ran—most of the time—and got her from one place to the other. I hated her taking the bus to and from work, especially when she was dressed the way she had to be.
“Sweetie, what are you doing up?” she asked after getting out of the car and walking toward the porch.
She barely had any clothes on, and she pulled her long coat around her to cover what she could. It was too warm for a coat, but she always used it when coming home from work on nights where she didn’t have a change of clothes.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, standing up once she was beside me and giving her a hug. She smelled like cigarettes and cheap perfume. “How was work?”
Yeah, it was a stupid question, but I asked it nonetheless.
“Not too bad,” she answered, giving me a sad look. She hated her job and often said she was sorry, and I’d tell her she had nothing to apologize for. Her face was caked with makeup she didn’t need, but it was what she had to wear: long, fake eyelashes, dark eyeshadow and eyeliner, and red lipstick. “I got some groceries on the way home. Wanna help me bring them in?”
I walked to the car, opened the door, and grabbed the bags. There weren’t much, so I could carry them all in one trip.
We went into the house, and she said she’d be right back before going into her bedroom. I unloaded the groceries—jug of milk, box of cereal, some eggs, lunch meat, and a loaf of bread—before sitting at the small kitchen table and waiting.
Mom had been a stripper for years, but I never once judged her for it. Each new place we moved, she’d get a job at the local strip joint. There’d been times when she’d tried to work other places, but none of the waitressing or fast food jobs ever paid as much as stripping.
When she returned, her face was makeup free, and she was in stretchy pants, a baggy T-shirt, and had her dark hair on top of her head in a messy bun.
“Anything on your mind you wanna talk about, bug?” she asked as she brushed her fingers through my hair and sat down in the seat opposite mine. Not really sure where it’d come from, but she’d called me bug for as long as I could remember. Just one of those nicknames that’d stuck. “Is your new school still goin’ okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m not sure I’m going to like my drama class, though. I hate that they placed me in it.”
Her brow scrunched, and she took my hand. “I’m sorry we had to move to a new town again. I really feel like this one is it.” Her hopeful expression and caring voice made it hard to be sad in that moment.
We’d moved around a lot. As in, I’d attended five different schools. My dad was the main reason for that. He was an abusive jerk who couldn’t just move on and kept showing back up in our lives.
Mom was only thirty-five, having been around my age when she’d had me, and my dad was a year older than her. When I was five, he had jerked me up by my arm and had dislocated it when I’d been crying. He’d knocked Mom around a lot before that point, but it had been the first time he’d ever laid a hand on me.
And then it’d kept happening.
Mom hadn’t had any other place to go and had been stuck in that situation. She hated herself for it, but I didn’t blame her. She eventually found the courage to leave him, and things were rough for us, but at least we were together and happier than we’d been with him.
However, every time we tried to start over, he’d find us.
Mom had tried getting restraining orders and all of that, but the system didn’t really work for poor people. She couldn’t afford a good attorney, and the authorities wouldn’t do anything without proof.
Apparently her bruises hadn’t been enough proof for them.
When he’d been arrested for drunken disorderly and assault on a police officer in the last town, Mom had packed all of us up and moved to Port Haven, only taking what we could fit in the car. All of our furniture had been purchased once we’d gotten here from yard sales and used furniture stores.
“Do you think he’ll find us again?” I whispered, staring at the tabletop. Mom didn’t answer, and I looked up at her.
Her eyes glistened with tears, and she squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, bug. It’s my fault your and Declan’s life has been this shithole. But I promise you, I’m going to fix it. Somehow. Roy won’t ever lay a hand on my babies again.”
“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice croaked from behind us.
Declan walked into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes, before focusing on us. His brown hair stuck out in all different directions. He was such a crazy sleeper.
“Sorry we woke you, sweetie.” Mom stood and wrapped him in a hug. He was so much taller than her.
He kissed the top of her head and returned her embrace. “You didn’t wake me up. It’s okay.”
Later that night, I was in bed, staring at the stained ceiling.
The discoloration appeared to be from water leakage and only God knows what else. Hopefully not mold, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Declan was in the twin-sized bed beside mine, which was just a mattress on the floor without a frame just like mine, and he was already snoring.
I looked at him before flipping to my other side and closing my eyes. It was almost four in the morning, and I had to get up for school in a few hours. Good thing I functioned okay on little sleep.
***
That Friday, I sat at a table in the small courtyard, enjoying the sun before class. Some people gathered with their friends a few tables away, while others sat in the grass and talked. Guys that I could only assume were athletes stood in the center of the square, looking all muscled and reminding me so much of the guys who bullied those who weren’t like them—people like me.
Everyone fit together in some way or another, and I was just the outsider. The piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. Always had been. And I probably always would be.
I stood when the first bell rang and went inside to my locker.
Port Haven High wasn’t huge, but it was still big and kind of confusing. There were a lot of different buildings. The main building had the office, cafeteria, and classrooms like English, history, and art. There was a math and science building, and another for performing arts where I had my drama class. Then, there was a separate one for athletics and gym—that thank God I didn’t have to take because I was the most uncoordinated person on the face of the planet.
They weren’t far apart, which helped, and you only had to go outside and walk like ten or fifteen feet to get to the next one.
By the time I made it to history class, the room was already full of other students, but luckily, my preferred seat in the very back of the room was still available. I headed that way, keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anyone.
That’s when someone stuck their foot in front of my path, and I tripped, flying toward the tile floor.
Laughter erupted from the guy who’d done it, and his friends laughed too. I looked up at them, brushing my hair out of my eyes, and glared.
“How was the trip?” the jerk asked.
“Hey!” another voice growled, and that Maverick guy came into view. He neared the dude who’d tripped me before pointing to my books scattered on the floor. “What the hell, Patrick? Pick them up.”
The jerk scoffed at him before sneering at me. “Screw that.”
I stood up, but kept a distance, not wanting to get in the middle of anything.
Maverick stepped closer to Patrick, and from that proximity, he towered over the bully by a good three inches. “I said. Pick. Them. Up.” His harsh tone even gave me chills, and I wasn’t even the one his anger was directed at.
Patrick’s face paled a little, and he stepped back, putting his hands up. “Okay.” He bent and picked up my books before setting them on the nearest desk. He faced Maverick. “We cool, man?”
Maverick didn’t answer him. Instead, he came over to me. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I answered, grabbing my books from the desk and holding them to my chest. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
I didn’t see why he’d cared anyway. Patrick didn’t look like the jock type, and Maverick obviously did. Maybe it was like a chain of bullies? Patrick was above me and Maverick was above him, like some kind of freaking food chain, but instead of food, it was a muscle-to-popularity ratio of who dominated the school.
“I don’t like bullies,” Maverick answered. “And I know you’re not a damsel. You could at least stop being such a jerk to me when I haven’t done anything to warrant your bitchiness.”
My face heated, and I realized he was right. “Sorry. Um, thanks, I guess.”
“It’s okay,” he said in a softer tone… one that did something weird to my chest. I held the books tighter against me—right on the spot that had felt funny. “Do you like Port Haven so far?”
I looked at him and forgot how to speak for a second. His eyes were like a sapphire blue that also had small specks of gray in them. His square jaw and full bottom lip caught my focus before I met his eyes again.
“Huh?”
Maverick smiled and repeated his question.
“Um, yeah. It’s okay,” I answered, shifting my weight to my other foot. “Does it always have such a fishy smell, though?”
He laughed. “You get used to it after a while. And it’s only so bad now because we’re right by the shore.” His gaze darted to the clock before he turned back to me. “Class is about to start. See you later.”
Then, he walked to his desk. I stared after him a moment before doing the same.
Mr. Jones entered the room, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. “Good morning, class. I hope you’re all doing well.” He sat the cup on his desk and looked up at us before grinning. “I take your lack of enthusiasm as you’d rather still be in bed than hearing me talk.” That earned him some chuckles. “I’m going to hand these out and then take attendance while you look over them.”
When he put one on my desk, I grabbed it, noticing the paper was still warm. Fresh out of the copying machine. It had a list of words—names, dates, and events—and at the bottom, there was a section that said ‘essay questions.’
“This will be your study guide,” Mr. Jones said, back at the front of the room. “Before we start a new set of chapters, I will give you one of these. As we go through the material, you can fill-in the information on the identify terms and the essay questions. For your exam, I’ll choose ten of the twenty terms, as well as two of the five essay questions.” He smiled at the lift of mood in the room.
I mean, he was seriously giving us all the questions that would be on the exam? Really?
“I know a lot of you think it sounds too easy,” he said. “But I guarantee it’ll be harder than you think. I’ll expect more from your answers and not just a simple sentence or two. On the terms, you’ll need to know: what or who it is, the historical significance of said person or thing, and any major key points that happened around them.”
It still didn’t sound too bad to me, and I scanned over the terms, already knowing a few of them.
We were starting off learning about the events leading up to the Civil War—the American one, not the one from the Marvel universe. But, yeah, it’d be pretty freaking awesome to talk about Captain America in class. Or have him teach it.
Mr. Jones turned on the Smart Board and brought up a PowerPoint presentation. The lights were dimmed a little so everyone could see the board, and then he started lecturing. And thank God he actually knew how to use PowerPoint. It made learning more engaging.
I opened my notebook and took notes on the lecture, shoving the thoughts of bullies and all other troubles aside.
After class, I gathered my things and started leaving the room. Maverick and I got to the door at the same time, and on instinct, I stepped back to let him go first. He didn’t move at first, and I looked up. His blue eyes were staring into mine. Something odd passed between us, but I didn’t know what that something was.
And then he left.
I’d grabbed my biology book earlier when I’d gone to my locker, so I was able to go straight to my next class. Maverick had that class with me, but he wasn’t in the room yet when I walked in.
Not that it mattered if he was. It wasn’t like I was into the guy or anything. He was just… interesting. And he was the only person at school besides my teachers who seemed to know I even existed, other than the few guys who’d occasionally pushed me in the hall and the one who’d tripped me that day in class.
When he came into view, I immediately looked away, but not before I saw his curious blue-eyed gaze focus on me. In that split second, my heart had thumped harder, but I wasn’t sure why.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him go to his seat, and I relaxed.
I was in my favorite spot right beside the window, and I looked outside. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and from my desk, I could see part of the water from the nearby shore. It glistened under the sun’s rays, but I knew even with the warm day, that water was still freaking cold.
I shivered as I looked at it; from the thought of the cold water on my skin, but also because it freaked me out.
Massive bodies of water were nightmarish to me, and when I imagined all the hidden things beneath the surface, lurking in the depths, that fear only increased. I couldn’t even watch movies or TV shows where people went scuba diving or shipwreck diving because it amped up my anxiety.
Mrs. Brown stood from her desk once the bell rang, and she went to the whiteboard to write that day’s assignment. We were going to be learning the phases of cell division, and then next week, she said we’d be getting into groups to look at slides under a microscope.
“Keep in mind,” she said, “the person I pair you with will be your partner for all group projects from now until the end of the school year. Since this is an advanced placement course, I will be pushing each of you a bit more than the usual class.”
I loved the hands-on learning, but not when it involved group partners. As she began calling out names and assigning partners, I slunk down in to my seat. I didn’t know anyone, and I knew the person who got paired with me would probably be disappointed in some way because I was the unpopular, new kid.
Well… one person saw me. Maverick. For some reason, I expected to be partnered with him.
But then I had to remind myself that this was real life and not a teenaged romance novel.
Wait… romance? Why did I think that?
“Avery Kinkead?” Mrs. Brown asked, scanning the faces of the students in front of her before focusing on me. “Ah, there you are. You’ll be partnered with Ben Benson.”
I had to contain a grimace. Someone actually named their kid Ben Benson? Poor kid. I had no idea what the guy even looked like, so I studied the other rows of students, trying to see if I could spot him.
When I made eye contact with an equally confused face, I shyly smiled, as did he. He had red hair that was stuck-up in the front, and his smile was kind. Definitely not the face of some douchebag.
Maybe the partner thing wouldn’t be so bad.
I didn’t get a chance to talk to him or even introduce myself—not like I would’ve initiated such a thing anyway.
Class ended, and I went to my Study of Fine Arts class, which was actually awesome. In it, we learned about artists from history and also about the history of art itself, going into a rundown of all types of art and the eras in which they came into being.
Wanting to be an architect, I loved art. When it came to drawing people, I sucked. I mean, I could barely even draw stick people. But I loved drawing buildings and landscapes. Just something about creating something from nothing called to me.
At lunch, I sat by myself again. Not because I didn’t want friends, but because I had a hard time making them.
“Hi,” a quiet voice said, and I looked up to see Ben Benson from biology. His cheeks were bright pink and his nervous expression was all too relatable. His brown eyes darted around the cafeteria before settling back on me. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”
“Sure,” I answered, motioning to the seat in front of me. “I’m Avery. You’re Ben, right?” I knew who he was, but I asked it anyway just to make conversation.
He nodded and placed his tray down before sitting.
Looks like I didn’t have to worry about initiating our meeting anymore at least, which would make the project next week less stressful.
We didn’t talk much over lunch, but it was a comfortable silence; one of two people who preferred the silence, and who enjoyed such a thing with a like-minded person. The little bit we did talk, I discovered he was also a senior and had lived in Port Haven all of his life. I didn’t tell him much about my own life, other than I had a younger brother and had moved here over the summer.
Once lunch was over, I said bye to Ben before walking to the performing arts building.
It was the one class I dreaded most every day. Mr. Lee was nice and everything, and so were the other students, but I hated talking in front of people. Sometimes the exercises Mr. Lee had us do were crazy things like going around in a circle and having each person act something out. They were called ice-breaker challenges or something weird like that—basically a way to loosen us up before each class.
I loathed it.
I entered the auditorium, and my stomach was queasy with nerves as it always was when I approached the stage where everyone was sitting.
“Good afternoon, Avery,” Mr. Lee said with a smile. He was the only teacher who had learned every person’s name in their class. He greeted all of us that way, and it was sort of awesome that he cared enough to make us all feel welcome.
I gave a slight wave before sitting in the farthest chair from everyone. Fiddling with my thumbs, I kept my head lowered and refrained from making eye contact. People talked around me, and I sunk lower.
That’s when I heard a deep laugh behind me, followed by a girl giggling. I hated that I knew who it was before I even looked up.
“Mav, Sarah,” Mr. Lee greeted them with the same smile he’d given me.
Maverick sat only a few chairs away from me, and we locked gazes for a fraction of a second. He smiled and I looked away, hugging my arms closer to my torso.
I’d never felt so… strange before. I wasn’t sure what it was about him that drew me in, but I wanted it to stop.
A voice in the back of my head gave me an answer—that I had a crush on the tall, muscular jock with Superman good looks—but I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, refusing to go there.
I’d never admitted to myself that I was gay. I didn’t even know if I was, honestly. Mainly because I didn’t really show interest in anyone—guy or girl. The few times I had felt something close to a crush, it’d been around a guy, but girls were still pretty, I guess.
Trying to figure it all out was confusing.
“I have some exciting news,” Mr. Lee started once everyone else had arrived. “The announcement for which production we’ll be putting on this fall.”
“Oh! Is it Wizard of Oz?” Sarah asked, unable to contain her squeals. “I’ve always wanted to play Dorothy. And Mav, here, can be Toto!”
The class laughed, including Maverick, and I caught myself staring again.
“Sorry, but no,” Mr. Lee said, causing the once excited Sarah to frown. “We’ll be doing Beauty and the Beast.”
“Have I mentioned I’ve always wanted to play Belle too?” Sarah said, and even I cracked a smile at that.
“Auditions for all the roles will be next week. I’ll announce the cast the following Monday afternoon. And for those still wondering, yes, this will be a musical. So, the auditions are open to all students. I’ve talked to the band director and Mrs. Higgins, the choir teacher, as well, and they’ve both agreed to work together on this. So we’ll have musical accompaniment, as well as background vocals for all the songs.”
“Oh my god, Mr. Lee, I could just die right now,” Sarah gushed before doing an excited dance in her chair.
I knew I wouldn’t be auditioning for anything, so the news meant little to me, but a swirl of excitement went through me regardless. It’d be sort of cool to see the whole thing come together: the performers, stage design, music, and props.
Theater hadn’t ever been anything I was interested in, but maybe it’d be interesting to watch. And maybe I could try my hand at backstage work. The idea of making things appealed to me, calling to that side of me that wanted to be an architect someday.
“For those of you who don’t want a role in the musical,” Mr. Lee said, drawing my attention back to him, “there will be plenty of other things to do. We’ll need props made and the kind of magic that only backstage hands can pull off.”
Awesome. I can do that.