Hollow
Chapter 2
August 15th 2013
I still can’t quite wrap my mind around the thought of me going to a party. Though I should be paying attention to the shit my Economy teacher is discussing, my mind can’t help but wonder why I’ve been invited to a party in the first place. I mean, I only met Liam and Jayden yesterday, yet they already want me to go somewhere with them? Isn’t that a little suspicious, or does this actually happen?
What if they knew someone from my old school and found out about my past? What if they plan on doing something to me? Is that a risk I’m willing to take?
Though it’s exciting to be invited out at all, and the thought of possibly having friends almost makes me smile, I can’t help but feel deep in my gut that everything will go terribly wrong. Even if they weren’t plotting anything against me, I know deep down that something will be bound to happen when nothing good ever comes out of my life.
That’s why I’m deciding, right now, that I will not go to that party.
Today was the day we’d actually begin soccer; though soccer season isn’t actually until the fall. Yesterday, all of the coaches and gym teachers decided to have their classes meet in the gym to discuss rules, dress code on the fields, and assigned lockers. Afterwards, we were allowed to mingle. I just sat on the bleachers with my headphones in and my notebook in my lap, scribbling down random words that would form a meaningful sentence.
I wish it could be like that today, but instead, I had to change my clothes in the locker room. Though I knew it’d suffocate me, I had to keep my long-sleeved shirt on to cover up my scars. It won’t be long before everyone finds out, and I won’t even bother trying to hide it then, but for now, that’s just how this is going to be. I was just glad my boxers were covering my other marks so that I could change into gym shorts without worry.
In fact, there wasn’t a single worry in my mind until a familiar voice called out my name, and almost instantly, I felt my shoulders tense. I slowly shut my ugly, mustard colored locker that’s supposed to represent gold and locked it, pretending I didn’t hear Liam’s voice. I knew I had failed to ignore him well enough once I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched.
“Hey,” Liam chuckled, obviously oblivious towards my body’s reflex. “I didn’t know you had gym right now. What class are you in?”
“Soccer,” I mumbled as I turned to face him. He had already removed his hand from me so that he could throw on a tank top.
“Oh, really?” he grinned widely. “Me too, well, and Jayden. Our friends play as well.”
“Cool,” I simply shrugged.
“How long have you played for?”
Before I could even think of an answer, I heard Jayden shout, “Li, hurry up, Man! We’ve got to get out there!” from across the locker room.
Liam playfully rolled his eyes and turned to wave at his friend dismissively. “Come on, we should head out,” he threw his arm around my shoulders, and yet again, I couldn’t help but jump at the friendly action. This time, Liam did notice, and his expression twisted into a puzzled frown, “Are you okay? You seem jumpy.”
“Sorry,” I breathed out, and even though he remained confused, he didn’t question me any further, but that may be because we were now coming up to Jayden and two other buff looking guys. I swallowed at the sight of them: defined muscles with prominent abs under their tight tanks. It was their sizes that scared me the most, making me fear them even more knowing that there’s a whole group of them. Guys who look like this are usually the type to be the most interested in seeing me miserable.
“Who’s this?” one of Liam’s friends eyed me with a curious smile.
With Liam’s arm still laying over my shoulders, he pulled me slightly closer to him so he could ruffle my hair with his free hand. “This is Harry,” he spoke before releasing me, and I had to push away the few curls that had fallen before my eyes from his actions. “He’s the new kid we told you about.” Huh?
“Ah,” the guy nodded his head, allowing his chin-length golden blonde hair to move with him. “You’re the one who called Jaffrey an idiot,” he laughed.
“Uh, yeah,” I spoke slowly, unsure of how else to respond.
“That guy is going to get eaten alive,” the other guy spoke up. “He’s new, and everyone already hates him.” I gulped because I know the feeling. “I’m Hunter,” the guy nodded his head towards me.
The blonde kid politely held out his hand for me, “I’m Mack.”
I hesitantly took his hand, not wanting to look like a loser by rejecting it. It’s one thing to ignore a teacher’s handshake, but if I ignored Mack right in front of his friends, they’d all think I was being weird. “Your name’s Mack?” my face contorted in a puzzled manor. I have never heard of a guy named Mack before. I didn’t even know that was a boy’s name.
“Well, it’s Mackenzie,” he corrected himself before leaning over to me with a sly smile, “but we don’t need to tell people that.” I let out a short and uneasy laugh due to his close proximity, but just as quickly as his head was near, he had pulled it away.
“Alright, enough chit chat,” Jayden smirked as he closed his locker. “We should get out there before Coach has us run extra.”
“Run?” I questioned as we filed out of the locker room.
Mack let out a laugh and patted my back somewhat roughly. This time, I managed to refrain myself from jumping at his actions. “Yeah, run,” he teased me. “Soccer season doesn’t start until the Fall, so until then, we’re going to be running and doing weights to keep us in shape.”
“Oh.”
“Have you ever even played soccer?” Jayden asked me, seeming genuinely inquisitive rather than rude like I was expecting.
“Um, no,” I shook my head. There was nothing else I could possibly say. I couldn’t lie to them and say I have because they’d find out soon enough that I have no idea what I’m doing. “I’m willing to learn though, and I can run pretty fast,” I half lied. I am definitely not up to learning how to play this sport. In America, soccer is the least appreciated sport, and I’m definitely one of those people who could care less about how to play it. On the other hand, I can run. I run periodically. I run when I’m stressed, I run to pain my muscles because I like the distracting feeling, I run to get away from my problems (in more ways than one), and I run to keep in shape. Running is something I’ll have no problem with, and I can surely push myself harder than the rest of the team.
“That’s good,” Liam smiled brightly towards me as we approached the rest of the team.
“It’s nice of you to finally join us Domki,” Coach Hanson rolled his eyes with a whimsical smile plastered to his face.
Jayden pointed to himself defensively, “Why just pick on me?”
“You’re always late,” Coach laughed before nodding towards the other guys. It was then that his eyes landed on mine, “Ah, we have a newbie. What’s your name?”
“Har-” I started to say until I felt an elbow collide with my side. My eyes widened in fear, afraid someone was trying to hurt me purposefully, but that was until I saw Hunter giving me an apologetic smile.
He coughed out the words, “Your last name,” making me realize my mistake. It appears the coach is only interested in hearing what my last name is, and it seems obvious now, knowing that he called Jayden by his surname.
“Styles,” I swallowed anxiously.
“Styles? Okay, that’s easy to remember,” he nodded. “Alright everybody, let’s make our way to the track. You’ll be running a mile, and I expect it to be done in under ten minutes. If you go over, you’ll be making the whole team run another two laps. Got it?” Murmurs and groans could be heard from the team, and the coach rolled his eyes, “Oh hush. You don’t want me to make it two miles, do you? Or maybe I should say three.”
“Hustle up,” Jayden immediately commanded, and had us all jog with him over to the tracks.
"Nice shirt," Mack pinched at the fabric I was wearing with a goofy looking smirk on his face, and I almost choked on my spit. This could be a long class.
Running turned out to be even better than I had expected. I finished the mile first, beating half the team by a lap, and I had finished it in just under eight minutes. Coach said that was a decent amount of time for someone who just got back from summer. Liam was the next to finish. He, then, had me run with him on our teammates’ sides to encourage them in picking up their speed so we could get done before the ten minutes were up. They didn’t actually finish in under ten minutes, but Coach said he was in a good mood and appreciated how we worked as a team, so he didn’t have us run any more than we already had.
After spending another thirty minutes on the tracks, messing around and whatnot (well, they messed around while I watched on the sidelines), Coach sent us to the locker rooms to shower and get dressed. I decided on showering when I got home, feeling way to uncomfortable in the locker room to strip naked and show off my scars. So instead, I quickly changed and sat down on the bench that rested between the rows of lockers. I had my phone in my hands, texting Gemma to let her know that I’m fine and that I’ll be walking home soon after the bell rings.
“You weren’t lying when you said you could run,” Liam’s voice startled me as he sat down beside me and began slipping his shoes on.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, have you decided on going to the party, yet?” the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
Here it goes. Here’s when I tell him that I don’t think I can make it. I’m going to say that even though I never have any plans that could prevent me from going. I went to open my mouth to speak, but before I could, another body joined us on the bench.
“You’re going to the party?” Mack raised his eyebrows at me before tossing a shirt on.
“I-“
“He’s not sure if he wants to go since it’s his first one,” Jayden interrupted me, and I wanted so badly to glare at him, but I didn’t.
Mack’s head rolled to the side as he glanced at me in surprise, “You’ve never gone to a party? Now you’ll have to go. We’ll take you under our wings and teach you our ways.”
Liam held up his hands towards his friends as if he were trying to provide me space. “It’s ultimately his decision. If he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t have to.”
“You’d like it, Man,” Hunter joined us as well and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Ryan throws the greatest parties. There’s tons of Babes, lots of booze, and the house is huge.”
“Yeah, we could teach you how to play beer pong,” Mack bumped his shoulder into mine. “Although,” he looked up at the ceiling and chuckled, “at Ryan’s last party, we lost the ball. We’ll probably have to use coins.”
“That was Mack’s fault, by the way,” Jayden shook his head at the guy.
Mack shrugged, “Guilty as charged. So how ‘bout it? Do you want to go?”
They actually seem excited at the thought of taking me to my first party. Nothing about the way they’re speaking has even set off any red flags. Maybe they actually want me to go, no strings attached. There’s a large possibility that these guys actually want to be my friend. All I know is that all of the guys are gazing curiously at me, and I feel an immense amount of pressure to say the word I’ve been fighting against for the past twenty-four hours.
“Yes,” I breathed out.
I found myself laying on my bed, listening to music through the speakers of my headphones as I stared up at the ceiling. Today didn’t feel like a day I deserved to cut or burn myself, and I contemplated on why I felt that way. It’s been hours, and I still haven’t come up with any conclusions. I know for a fact it’s not happiness. I haven’t felt an emotion like that since last year when someone else faked a friendship with me that I thought was real. I’m not even sure if I’ll ever smile again.
I squinted my eyes when a figure came into my focus: Gemma. She was towering over me with a concerned expression as she reached for my headphones and slowly pulled them out. “Bad day?” she questioned with a worried tone.
“No, actually,” I surprised myself by saying.
She was just as taken aback, but she quickly shook it away as if I’d break under her wide eyes and agape mouth. I expected her to smile at the realization that my day wasn’t so bad, but instead, her lips formed into a frown. “Oh,” she breathed out, beginning to worry me now. “Well, it might not be so great in a few minutes. Mom and Dad want to have a family dinner.”
“W-what?” I was horrified at the thought of eating with bickering parents at the dinner table. We hadn’t eaten dinner since I flunked the sixth grade, and they broke the news of their divorce while we ate the disgusting noodle casserole my mother attempted to make. She’s never been that great of a cook.
“Yeah,” she sighed and shifted her gaze to the floor. “I wish I could say we’re getting news as good as their divorce, but I doubt it.”
“I sat up on the bed with a glare, “Gemma, their divorce was-“
“Not your fault,” she finished for me as her hands motioned for me to settle down, and I rolled my eyes at her actions. “You and I both know it was-“
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped, turning my head away from her. The topic brought back too many painful memories. Flashes of my parents having a screaming match right in front of us played in my mind. I specifically remember having to protectively hold Gemma while she cried at how scary our parents were in that moment. They didn’t care.
I felt my bed dip down as Gemma sat at my feet. She placed her hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze to earn my attention again. “They were better off separating,” she spoke in a cautious whisper to which I just frowned at her for. “Anyways,” she cleared her throat. “Let’s just get this dinner over with. I think Mom made some sort of pasta. If it’s shit, we’re getting McDonalds or something.”
To say dinner is awkward would be an understatement. The only sounds to be heard in the room was the clinks of forks hitting plates. Gemma sat with her cheek pressed against her knuckles as she grimaced and played with the pasta that had some sort of green sauce on it. I took slow and tiny bites of the food, trying not to pull a face at the vile flavor that’d hit my tastebuds. I had no idea what Mom put in the sauce, but I was sure it wasn’t edible. Even my parents appeared to have not eaten much of the pasta as they each drank three glasses of wine and tried making conversation with us.
“How’s your studies coming along, Gem?” my mother smiled brightly at her.
Gemma shrugged while she continued pushing her pasta around her plate. “Its fine,” she spoke blandly, clearly disinterested in this dinner and having any sort of communication with our parents.
“How much longer of school did you say you have left until you can graduate?” Mom’s full attention was on Gemma as she took another bite of her goopy pasta.
“This is my last year.” Gemma is actually studying fashion while deciding on a career to do with it. She wants to either own a clothing line or be a retail merchandiser. She already finished her Associate’s Degree in Fashion Design, but at the moment, she doesn’t have any inspiration to create a line. I’ve seen her sit in her room, just staring at a blank page for hours and coming up with nothing. She doesn’t think she’s good enough to be a fashion designer (though I strongly disagree because she’s Gemma, and she can do anything she puts her mind to), so that’s why she’s considering being a retail merchandiser. It means more schooling for her, but that’s not something she minds since she’s having fun with it.
“That’s great. I’m so proud of you, Darling,” our mother cooed while bouncing in her seat excitedly. She’s still as childish as always when she’s drunk.
“Not that you’ll care tomorrow,” I heard Gemma grumble under her breath, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one who heard her.
“And, Harry,” my father spoke before setting down his fork and wiping a napkin across his mouth. “What do you want to do when you get out of school? You’ll have to start thinking about college soon here.”
I felt my body stiffen at his words, and my hand froze it’s movements in twisting my fork in the pasta. “Um,” I glanced over at my sister with nervous eyes before returning my gaze to him. “I don’t know,” I shrugged.
He let out a short laugh, “Well, you’ll never get anywhere in life if you don’t have a plan.”
I swallowed the spit in my mouth before looking down at my food. “I might do something in the music industry,” I shrugged my shoulders again. I always thought that if I did live long enough to have a career, I’d want to do something with the one thing that made me somewhat happy: music. Maybe I’d sing, but I’m not even sure if I’m any good. Maybe I’d have my own recording company and help newer and undiscovered bands get their name out there. Anything like that would be amazing.
I heard my mother burst into laughter, making me peer up at her anxiously. My father joined her laughter as well and allowed Mom to place her hand on his shoulder as they exchanged a knowing look. Their laughter grew, causing their faces to turn to dark shades of red while tears gathered in my mother’s eyes and my father dramatically slapped his thigh. Gemma, on the other hand, was not amused. She shot them a cold glare as if they’d actually notice her anger. They didn’t.
Their laughter was just another blow to my cratered heart. By now, I should feel numb from all of the pain my parents have caused me, but the pain never seems to come to a stop. I’m nothing but the Black Sheep of the family to them. I’ll never be as good as Gemma, and they’ll surely never truly love me like they do her. I’m a nobody wherever I go.
“You can’t be serious,” my mother continued to laugh until I looked down at my plate again. I heard her let out an uncomfortable cough, causing my father’s chuckles to cease as well. “Harry, the music industry is nearly impossible to get into. You really think you could succeed at getting a career in that?”
“You don’t really think your voice is that good, do you?” Dad forced a chuckle before sipping on his half-empty fourth glass of wine.
“Stop,” I barely croaked out, tears now threatening to spill from my eyes. I refused to meet their eyes because that’s when my father will see the weakness in mine.
“Tell me; what do you plan to do in the music industry?” my father continued anyways. “You surely can’t sing, so what else do you think it is you can bring to the table?”
Just then, a loud bang echoed through the room, and I felt the table and all of its contents jump along with my body. The sound was immediately followed by the scraping of a chair across the wooden floor, and I looked up to find Gemma was the source of it all. A tear managed to roll down my cheek as I took in the site before me. Her hands had been slammed into the table as she stood, scowling at my parents intensely. “Harry and I are going out to eat,” she stated through her teeth and held out one of her hands to me.
I watched as my mother’s lower lip pouted while I stood by Gemma’s side and squeezed her hand in appreciation, “But I worked so hard at this dinner.”
Gemma let out a loud scoff that seemed to be the only noise in the room, “That’s all your worried about? Your precious pasta that looks like it’s covered in snot?”
“Gemma…” my father warned, and Mom frowned down at her creation that she still hadn’t eaten much of.
“No, Dad,” she sighed an exhausted sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’s tired of having to defend me or whether it’s because she’s tired of my parents thinking they’re always in the right. Either way, I wouldn’t blame her. “You’re his parents. Our parents. You’re supposed to be supportive of him no matter what.”
“Not if his dream is too far from his grasp,” Dad shrugged his shoulders before crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
She pointed to her chest as she fumed even more, “Me becoming a designer is a dream just as big as his, so if you’re going to talk down on him for this, you might as well talk down on me too.”
“At least you have talent,” I heard my mother say and I looked over at her in time to see her roll her eyes. I quickly looked down and wiped fiercely at my eyes while trying my best to sniffle quietly.
“How could you say something like that?!” Gemma snapped, her voice raising in a higher volume than I haven't heard her use in a long time. “You two are shit parents!”
“That’s enough!” my father’s voice boomed throughout the room, causing me to flinch, but I quickly recovered enough to pull Gemma behind me, shielding her from my father’s rage. I met his gaze just in time to see him cock an eyebrow up at my actions. “Why are you so damn jumpy all the time? You act like I’m abusive,” he sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Come on, Harry,” Gemma whispered from behind me, tugging my hand in her direction, but just as I began to follow her, my father’s voice brought my steps to a stop.
“Tell me, Harry; why must you two always run away from us?” he asked. I slowly and cautiously turned to face my father, finding him tossing his napkin onto the table and looking at me expectantly. When I didn’t answer him, he let out a loud scoff and stood to his feet. Each time he stepped forward, I took a step back, and he let out a laugh at my actions, finding my frightened expression to be completely amusing. “Oh come on, Harry. Be a man,” he breathed out with his hands in the air.
And there it is. “Be a man.” Those are the words I have to hear from my father whenever he feels I’m even slightly acting cowardly. Those are the words my bullies would shout at me in attempt to frighten me, my teachers would use to advise me to stand up for myself, and any so-called friends I ever had would throw in my face with a scoff. Those words make me feel like I don’t belong on this planet because I’m certainly not good enough to my own father..
“Look me in the eyes, and tell your father why you two always leave when things get too tough,” his final words came out in a mocking tone as he pouted his lip out at us dramatically.
When it was clear that I wasn't going to respond, Gemma let out a few choice words in a growl, “That would require him having a father.”
I still can’t quite wrap my mind around the thought of me going to a party. Though I should be paying attention to the shit my Economy teacher is discussing, my mind can’t help but wonder why I’ve been invited to a party in the first place. I mean, I only met Liam and Jayden yesterday, yet they already want me to go somewhere with them? Isn’t that a little suspicious, or does this actually happen?
What if they knew someone from my old school and found out about my past? What if they plan on doing something to me? Is that a risk I’m willing to take?
Though it’s exciting to be invited out at all, and the thought of possibly having friends almost makes me smile, I can’t help but feel deep in my gut that everything will go terribly wrong. Even if they weren’t plotting anything against me, I know deep down that something will be bound to happen when nothing good ever comes out of my life.
That’s why I’m deciding, right now, that I will not go to that party.
Today was the day we’d actually begin soccer; though soccer season isn’t actually until the fall. Yesterday, all of the coaches and gym teachers decided to have their classes meet in the gym to discuss rules, dress code on the fields, and assigned lockers. Afterwards, we were allowed to mingle. I just sat on the bleachers with my headphones in and my notebook in my lap, scribbling down random words that would form a meaningful sentence.
I wish it could be like that today, but instead, I had to change my clothes in the locker room. Though I knew it’d suffocate me, I had to keep my long-sleeved shirt on to cover up my scars. It won’t be long before everyone finds out, and I won’t even bother trying to hide it then, but for now, that’s just how this is going to be. I was just glad my boxers were covering my other marks so that I could change into gym shorts without worry.
In fact, there wasn’t a single worry in my mind until a familiar voice called out my name, and almost instantly, I felt my shoulders tense. I slowly shut my ugly, mustard colored locker that’s supposed to represent gold and locked it, pretending I didn’t hear Liam’s voice. I knew I had failed to ignore him well enough once I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched.
“Hey,” Liam chuckled, obviously oblivious towards my body’s reflex. “I didn’t know you had gym right now. What class are you in?”
“Soccer,” I mumbled as I turned to face him. He had already removed his hand from me so that he could throw on a tank top.
“Oh, really?” he grinned widely. “Me too, well, and Jayden. Our friends play as well.”
“Cool,” I simply shrugged.
“How long have you played for?”
Before I could even think of an answer, I heard Jayden shout, “Li, hurry up, Man! We’ve got to get out there!” from across the locker room.
Liam playfully rolled his eyes and turned to wave at his friend dismissively. “Come on, we should head out,” he threw his arm around my shoulders, and yet again, I couldn’t help but jump at the friendly action. This time, Liam did notice, and his expression twisted into a puzzled frown, “Are you okay? You seem jumpy.”
“Sorry,” I breathed out, and even though he remained confused, he didn’t question me any further, but that may be because we were now coming up to Jayden and two other buff looking guys. I swallowed at the sight of them: defined muscles with prominent abs under their tight tanks. It was their sizes that scared me the most, making me fear them even more knowing that there’s a whole group of them. Guys who look like this are usually the type to be the most interested in seeing me miserable.
“Who’s this?” one of Liam’s friends eyed me with a curious smile.
With Liam’s arm still laying over my shoulders, he pulled me slightly closer to him so he could ruffle my hair with his free hand. “This is Harry,” he spoke before releasing me, and I had to push away the few curls that had fallen before my eyes from his actions. “He’s the new kid we told you about.” Huh?
“Ah,” the guy nodded his head, allowing his chin-length golden blonde hair to move with him. “You’re the one who called Jaffrey an idiot,” he laughed.
“Uh, yeah,” I spoke slowly, unsure of how else to respond.
“That guy is going to get eaten alive,” the other guy spoke up. “He’s new, and everyone already hates him.” I gulped because I know the feeling. “I’m Hunter,” the guy nodded his head towards me.
The blonde kid politely held out his hand for me, “I’m Mack.”
I hesitantly took his hand, not wanting to look like a loser by rejecting it. It’s one thing to ignore a teacher’s handshake, but if I ignored Mack right in front of his friends, they’d all think I was being weird. “Your name’s Mack?” my face contorted in a puzzled manor. I have never heard of a guy named Mack before. I didn’t even know that was a boy’s name.
“Well, it’s Mackenzie,” he corrected himself before leaning over to me with a sly smile, “but we don’t need to tell people that.” I let out a short and uneasy laugh due to his close proximity, but just as quickly as his head was near, he had pulled it away.
“Alright, enough chit chat,” Jayden smirked as he closed his locker. “We should get out there before Coach has us run extra.”
“Run?” I questioned as we filed out of the locker room.
Mack let out a laugh and patted my back somewhat roughly. This time, I managed to refrain myself from jumping at his actions. “Yeah, run,” he teased me. “Soccer season doesn’t start until the Fall, so until then, we’re going to be running and doing weights to keep us in shape.”
“Oh.”
“Have you ever even played soccer?” Jayden asked me, seeming genuinely inquisitive rather than rude like I was expecting.
“Um, no,” I shook my head. There was nothing else I could possibly say. I couldn’t lie to them and say I have because they’d find out soon enough that I have no idea what I’m doing. “I’m willing to learn though, and I can run pretty fast,” I half lied. I am definitely not up to learning how to play this sport. In America, soccer is the least appreciated sport, and I’m definitely one of those people who could care less about how to play it. On the other hand, I can run. I run periodically. I run when I’m stressed, I run to pain my muscles because I like the distracting feeling, I run to get away from my problems (in more ways than one), and I run to keep in shape. Running is something I’ll have no problem with, and I can surely push myself harder than the rest of the team.
“That’s good,” Liam smiled brightly towards me as we approached the rest of the team.
“It’s nice of you to finally join us Domki,” Coach Hanson rolled his eyes with a whimsical smile plastered to his face.
Jayden pointed to himself defensively, “Why just pick on me?”
“You’re always late,” Coach laughed before nodding towards the other guys. It was then that his eyes landed on mine, “Ah, we have a newbie. What’s your name?”
“Har-” I started to say until I felt an elbow collide with my side. My eyes widened in fear, afraid someone was trying to hurt me purposefully, but that was until I saw Hunter giving me an apologetic smile.
He coughed out the words, “Your last name,” making me realize my mistake. It appears the coach is only interested in hearing what my last name is, and it seems obvious now, knowing that he called Jayden by his surname.
“Styles,” I swallowed anxiously.
“Styles? Okay, that’s easy to remember,” he nodded. “Alright everybody, let’s make our way to the track. You’ll be running a mile, and I expect it to be done in under ten minutes. If you go over, you’ll be making the whole team run another two laps. Got it?” Murmurs and groans could be heard from the team, and the coach rolled his eyes, “Oh hush. You don’t want me to make it two miles, do you? Or maybe I should say three.”
“Hustle up,” Jayden immediately commanded, and had us all jog with him over to the tracks.
"Nice shirt," Mack pinched at the fabric I was wearing with a goofy looking smirk on his face, and I almost choked on my spit. This could be a long class.
Running turned out to be even better than I had expected. I finished the mile first, beating half the team by a lap, and I had finished it in just under eight minutes. Coach said that was a decent amount of time for someone who just got back from summer. Liam was the next to finish. He, then, had me run with him on our teammates’ sides to encourage them in picking up their speed so we could get done before the ten minutes were up. They didn’t actually finish in under ten minutes, but Coach said he was in a good mood and appreciated how we worked as a team, so he didn’t have us run any more than we already had.
After spending another thirty minutes on the tracks, messing around and whatnot (well, they messed around while I watched on the sidelines), Coach sent us to the locker rooms to shower and get dressed. I decided on showering when I got home, feeling way to uncomfortable in the locker room to strip naked and show off my scars. So instead, I quickly changed and sat down on the bench that rested between the rows of lockers. I had my phone in my hands, texting Gemma to let her know that I’m fine and that I’ll be walking home soon after the bell rings.
“You weren’t lying when you said you could run,” Liam’s voice startled me as he sat down beside me and began slipping his shoes on.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, have you decided on going to the party, yet?” the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
Here it goes. Here’s when I tell him that I don’t think I can make it. I’m going to say that even though I never have any plans that could prevent me from going. I went to open my mouth to speak, but before I could, another body joined us on the bench.
“You’re going to the party?” Mack raised his eyebrows at me before tossing a shirt on.
“I-“
“He’s not sure if he wants to go since it’s his first one,” Jayden interrupted me, and I wanted so badly to glare at him, but I didn’t.
Mack’s head rolled to the side as he glanced at me in surprise, “You’ve never gone to a party? Now you’ll have to go. We’ll take you under our wings and teach you our ways.”
Liam held up his hands towards his friends as if he were trying to provide me space. “It’s ultimately his decision. If he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t have to.”
“You’d like it, Man,” Hunter joined us as well and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Ryan throws the greatest parties. There’s tons of Babes, lots of booze, and the house is huge.”
“Yeah, we could teach you how to play beer pong,” Mack bumped his shoulder into mine. “Although,” he looked up at the ceiling and chuckled, “at Ryan’s last party, we lost the ball. We’ll probably have to use coins.”
“That was Mack’s fault, by the way,” Jayden shook his head at the guy.
Mack shrugged, “Guilty as charged. So how ‘bout it? Do you want to go?”
They actually seem excited at the thought of taking me to my first party. Nothing about the way they’re speaking has even set off any red flags. Maybe they actually want me to go, no strings attached. There’s a large possibility that these guys actually want to be my friend. All I know is that all of the guys are gazing curiously at me, and I feel an immense amount of pressure to say the word I’ve been fighting against for the past twenty-four hours.
“Yes,” I breathed out.
I found myself laying on my bed, listening to music through the speakers of my headphones as I stared up at the ceiling. Today didn’t feel like a day I deserved to cut or burn myself, and I contemplated on why I felt that way. It’s been hours, and I still haven’t come up with any conclusions. I know for a fact it’s not happiness. I haven’t felt an emotion like that since last year when someone else faked a friendship with me that I thought was real. I’m not even sure if I’ll ever smile again.
I squinted my eyes when a figure came into my focus: Gemma. She was towering over me with a concerned expression as she reached for my headphones and slowly pulled them out. “Bad day?” she questioned with a worried tone.
“No, actually,” I surprised myself by saying.
She was just as taken aback, but she quickly shook it away as if I’d break under her wide eyes and agape mouth. I expected her to smile at the realization that my day wasn’t so bad, but instead, her lips formed into a frown. “Oh,” she breathed out, beginning to worry me now. “Well, it might not be so great in a few minutes. Mom and Dad want to have a family dinner.”
“W-what?” I was horrified at the thought of eating with bickering parents at the dinner table. We hadn’t eaten dinner since I flunked the sixth grade, and they broke the news of their divorce while we ate the disgusting noodle casserole my mother attempted to make. She’s never been that great of a cook.
“Yeah,” she sighed and shifted her gaze to the floor. “I wish I could say we’re getting news as good as their divorce, but I doubt it.”
“I sat up on the bed with a glare, “Gemma, their divorce was-“
“Not your fault,” she finished for me as her hands motioned for me to settle down, and I rolled my eyes at her actions. “You and I both know it was-“
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped, turning my head away from her. The topic brought back too many painful memories. Flashes of my parents having a screaming match right in front of us played in my mind. I specifically remember having to protectively hold Gemma while she cried at how scary our parents were in that moment. They didn’t care.
I felt my bed dip down as Gemma sat at my feet. She placed her hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze to earn my attention again. “They were better off separating,” she spoke in a cautious whisper to which I just frowned at her for. “Anyways,” she cleared her throat. “Let’s just get this dinner over with. I think Mom made some sort of pasta. If it’s shit, we’re getting McDonalds or something.”
To say dinner is awkward would be an understatement. The only sounds to be heard in the room was the clinks of forks hitting plates. Gemma sat with her cheek pressed against her knuckles as she grimaced and played with the pasta that had some sort of green sauce on it. I took slow and tiny bites of the food, trying not to pull a face at the vile flavor that’d hit my tastebuds. I had no idea what Mom put in the sauce, but I was sure it wasn’t edible. Even my parents appeared to have not eaten much of the pasta as they each drank three glasses of wine and tried making conversation with us.
“How’s your studies coming along, Gem?” my mother smiled brightly at her.
Gemma shrugged while she continued pushing her pasta around her plate. “Its fine,” she spoke blandly, clearly disinterested in this dinner and having any sort of communication with our parents.
“How much longer of school did you say you have left until you can graduate?” Mom’s full attention was on Gemma as she took another bite of her goopy pasta.
“This is my last year.” Gemma is actually studying fashion while deciding on a career to do with it. She wants to either own a clothing line or be a retail merchandiser. She already finished her Associate’s Degree in Fashion Design, but at the moment, she doesn’t have any inspiration to create a line. I’ve seen her sit in her room, just staring at a blank page for hours and coming up with nothing. She doesn’t think she’s good enough to be a fashion designer (though I strongly disagree because she’s Gemma, and she can do anything she puts her mind to), so that’s why she’s considering being a retail merchandiser. It means more schooling for her, but that’s not something she minds since she’s having fun with it.
“That’s great. I’m so proud of you, Darling,” our mother cooed while bouncing in her seat excitedly. She’s still as childish as always when she’s drunk.
“Not that you’ll care tomorrow,” I heard Gemma grumble under her breath, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one who heard her.
“And, Harry,” my father spoke before setting down his fork and wiping a napkin across his mouth. “What do you want to do when you get out of school? You’ll have to start thinking about college soon here.”
I felt my body stiffen at his words, and my hand froze it’s movements in twisting my fork in the pasta. “Um,” I glanced over at my sister with nervous eyes before returning my gaze to him. “I don’t know,” I shrugged.
He let out a short laugh, “Well, you’ll never get anywhere in life if you don’t have a plan.”
I swallowed the spit in my mouth before looking down at my food. “I might do something in the music industry,” I shrugged my shoulders again. I always thought that if I did live long enough to have a career, I’d want to do something with the one thing that made me somewhat happy: music. Maybe I’d sing, but I’m not even sure if I’m any good. Maybe I’d have my own recording company and help newer and undiscovered bands get their name out there. Anything like that would be amazing.
I heard my mother burst into laughter, making me peer up at her anxiously. My father joined her laughter as well and allowed Mom to place her hand on his shoulder as they exchanged a knowing look. Their laughter grew, causing their faces to turn to dark shades of red while tears gathered in my mother’s eyes and my father dramatically slapped his thigh. Gemma, on the other hand, was not amused. She shot them a cold glare as if they’d actually notice her anger. They didn’t.
Their laughter was just another blow to my cratered heart. By now, I should feel numb from all of the pain my parents have caused me, but the pain never seems to come to a stop. I’m nothing but the Black Sheep of the family to them. I’ll never be as good as Gemma, and they’ll surely never truly love me like they do her. I’m a nobody wherever I go.
“You can’t be serious,” my mother continued to laugh until I looked down at my plate again. I heard her let out an uncomfortable cough, causing my father’s chuckles to cease as well. “Harry, the music industry is nearly impossible to get into. You really think you could succeed at getting a career in that?”
“You don’t really think your voice is that good, do you?” Dad forced a chuckle before sipping on his half-empty fourth glass of wine.
“Stop,” I barely croaked out, tears now threatening to spill from my eyes. I refused to meet their eyes because that’s when my father will see the weakness in mine.
“Tell me; what do you plan to do in the music industry?” my father continued anyways. “You surely can’t sing, so what else do you think it is you can bring to the table?”
Just then, a loud bang echoed through the room, and I felt the table and all of its contents jump along with my body. The sound was immediately followed by the scraping of a chair across the wooden floor, and I looked up to find Gemma was the source of it all. A tear managed to roll down my cheek as I took in the site before me. Her hands had been slammed into the table as she stood, scowling at my parents intensely. “Harry and I are going out to eat,” she stated through her teeth and held out one of her hands to me.
I watched as my mother’s lower lip pouted while I stood by Gemma’s side and squeezed her hand in appreciation, “But I worked so hard at this dinner.”
Gemma let out a loud scoff that seemed to be the only noise in the room, “That’s all your worried about? Your precious pasta that looks like it’s covered in snot?”
“Gemma…” my father warned, and Mom frowned down at her creation that she still hadn’t eaten much of.
“No, Dad,” she sighed an exhausted sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’s tired of having to defend me or whether it’s because she’s tired of my parents thinking they’re always in the right. Either way, I wouldn’t blame her. “You’re his parents. Our parents. You’re supposed to be supportive of him no matter what.”
“Not if his dream is too far from his grasp,” Dad shrugged his shoulders before crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
She pointed to her chest as she fumed even more, “Me becoming a designer is a dream just as big as his, so if you’re going to talk down on him for this, you might as well talk down on me too.”
“At least you have talent,” I heard my mother say and I looked over at her in time to see her roll her eyes. I quickly looked down and wiped fiercely at my eyes while trying my best to sniffle quietly.
“How could you say something like that?!” Gemma snapped, her voice raising in a higher volume than I haven't heard her use in a long time. “You two are shit parents!”
“That’s enough!” my father’s voice boomed throughout the room, causing me to flinch, but I quickly recovered enough to pull Gemma behind me, shielding her from my father’s rage. I met his gaze just in time to see him cock an eyebrow up at my actions. “Why are you so damn jumpy all the time? You act like I’m abusive,” he sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Come on, Harry,” Gemma whispered from behind me, tugging my hand in her direction, but just as I began to follow her, my father’s voice brought my steps to a stop.
“Tell me, Harry; why must you two always run away from us?” he asked. I slowly and cautiously turned to face my father, finding him tossing his napkin onto the table and looking at me expectantly. When I didn’t answer him, he let out a loud scoff and stood to his feet. Each time he stepped forward, I took a step back, and he let out a laugh at my actions, finding my frightened expression to be completely amusing. “Oh come on, Harry. Be a man,” he breathed out with his hands in the air.
And there it is. “Be a man.” Those are the words I have to hear from my father whenever he feels I’m even slightly acting cowardly. Those are the words my bullies would shout at me in attempt to frighten me, my teachers would use to advise me to stand up for myself, and any so-called friends I ever had would throw in my face with a scoff. Those words make me feel like I don’t belong on this planet because I’m certainly not good enough to my own father..
“Look me in the eyes, and tell your father why you two always leave when things get too tough,” his final words came out in a mocking tone as he pouted his lip out at us dramatically.
When it was clear that I wasn't going to respond, Gemma let out a few choice words in a growl, “That would require him having a father.”
This is still one of my fav stories on here! When do you think the next update will be? I'm stoked to read the next chapter!
4/26/15