14. Bellamy

FOURTEEN

bellamy

Had anyone other than Drew pulled that stunt, they would have absolutely been expelled—and had to deal with Jacob's ass. A two-day suspension? That was bullshit. Whatever crack Brown was smoking today cost me a fuck I was desperate for. And I was tempted to make his life hell for a day or two to ease the pain.

I turned onto my street, taking a heavy breath when I spotted Dad's truck in the drive and Arlo's plastic kiddie pool crushed beneath the tire. The asshole had to be shitfaced already. The earlier he got drunk, the more of a dick he was, and today was not the day for this crap.

I parked behind his pickup, got out of my car, and went to the mailbox, sorting through the pile of overdue notices that came more frequently than not.

"You are the biggest asshole in the history of ever!"

I turned away from the mailbox. Nora stormed across the street, fists balled at her side. I hadn't seen her that angry since I'd hacked off one of her pigtails in third grade.

"What the hell did I do to you?"

"You do realize she's just trying to get expelled?"

No shit. I flipped through the mail, pretending I didn't give a flying rat's ass. Because I shouldn't… "Well, she should probably try to find ways to get expelled that don't step on my toes then." I glanced up. "Huh?"

"You burned her car, Bellamy!"

"She was giving away weed. What else was I supposed to do, chop off her fingers?" I laughed to myself at that.

"Oh my God. You're a dick." She huffed, then spun around, marching back to her front door while I stood, stunned in my drive.

"She's not a martyr, Nora!"

She flipped me a bird before slamming her door. That girl was annoying as hell. I made my way up the drive and around the house to the back porch. The second my foot hit the wooden deck, my twelve-year-old, half-blind hound dog sat up. He stretched and limped over, wagging his tail.

"Hey, Scooter." I kneeled to pet him before leading him inside through the kitchen door.

The hinges to Dad's recliner creaked. "You better notta gotten that horseshit bourbon again, Carol," he slurred.

The fact that he expected my mother to wait on him hand and foot when he did nothing but wallow in pools of alcohol and poker chips pissed me off. "It's me," I mumbled. "Not Mom."

Staggered footsteps thudded down the hall. "Well, where the hell's she at?"

I tossed the bills onto the table, glancing up when he slumped against the doorframe. Just looking at him sent a jolt of resentment darting through me. "Try work. You know, since she's the only one who does anything to pay bills."

His bloodshot eyes narrowed. "Fuck you," he said and shuffled toward the fridge.

Scooter hobbled over, and Dad tripped, stumbling into the wall before he swung a boot at the dog, barely missing. "That damn dog of yours shit on the floor. I outta beat him for it. Or maybe I outta beat the shit outta you for it."

His lips twitched, then he pushed up his sleeves—a set of movements I knew all too well. One of my first memories was him putting my mom's face through a china cabinet. By the time I was eight, I'd lost count of the times he'd busted my lip with a quick backhand to the face.

"You're a disrespectful little shit." He took a swing, and I ducked. His fist went clean through the cabinet behind me.

On instinct, I charged at him.

"Little shit." He grabbed the collar of my shirt, then his forehead smashed mine before I wrestled him to the floor. I managed to get a good punch to his nose, then the temple, and he let me go.

"You're a piece of shit!" I swiped my keys from the table, grabbed Scooter, and stormed outside. The sound of things crashing and shattering inside followed me to the front yard. I hated him. And more often than not, I found myself wishing he would die. Mom would never leave him, and she deserved so much better than this shit. We all did.

I loaded Scooter into the back of my car and peeled out of the drive, heading to the bus stop a few blocks over to wait on my little brother. The fight with my dad replayed through my head, creating a river of slow rage that needed to be diverted. I flipped through radio stations. Scrolled through my phone. Then finally, I typed out a text to Drew.

Me: Next on the list, you have fighting or fucking

Minutes passed and no dancing dots. Curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled up that stupid app on my phone, waiting for the blue locator dot to pop up. God—I shook my head because I had issues. I really did. I'd put the thing on here to screw with her, and here I was, practically stalking her to satisfy my own morbid curiosity. It shouldn't have mattered that she was at the same house she was the other day. Shouldn't have, but damn, if it didn't.

The yellow bus chugged down the street, then rolled to a stop, and when the doors folded back, Scooter howled when Arlo hopped down the steps. A wide grin set on his face as he sprinted over, then yanked open the door.

"You brought Scooter!" He chucked his backpack to the floorboard, then piled in, immediately wrapping his arms around the dog's neck. It was easy to make that kid happy. I scrubbed my brother's head, making it more of a mess than it already was.

"Daddy's mad again, huh?"

"Yeah." I shifted into drive, heading the opposite direction of our house. "Wanna slushie?"

"Yeah!"

Arlo mixed all three flavors together, grinning up at me when the sludge overfilled the lid. "I'mma call this one monster puke."

"Good name."

He started down the aisle, then turned and handed the drink to me. "Can I have a quarter for the claw machine?"

"You know that thing never works."

"Please…"

The kid had some good begging eyes. "Fine." I fished spare change from my pocket and dropped it into his dirty, marker-covered palm. "And wait up there for me. I've gotta get something."

"K." He skipped up to the front, and I hooked it around to the toiletries section, looking for a cheap bottle of jerk-lotion. I'd planned to spend the afternoon with Drew's legs pushed back behind her ears while I fucked every bit of hate right out of her, but here I was. In the 7-11. And seeing as how no other girl would cut it now, this was my only choice.

I settled on some cheap off-brand and made my way to the register. Arlo stood by the claw machine, his face plastered to the 7-11 window. A stuffed unicorn peeked out from under one of his arms and a plastic bag hung from the other.

The kid had a habit of shoplifting things from time to time, even though I'd threatened to take his night-light away if he kept doing it. "Arlo," I said. "Where'd you get the bag?"

"That lady bought me some Rainbow Push-Pops." He pointed through the glass just as Drew climbed into the passenger seat of a bright-red Mercedes. "And she won me the horse with a sword on its head."

"Why?"

"She said she knew you. So, she's not a stranger, right?"

I placed a hand over his head, watching the car back out of the spot. "Not a stranger…"

Something tightened in my chest, and I knew exactly why serial killers didn't want to get to know their victims before they killed them. Because when someone became real, it made everything harder. And that had just made her entirely too real for me to keep hating her.

Arlo sat on Hendrix's couch, battling him on the PlayStation. "Bell, your brother's a cheater!"

"Am not."

"Are too. Cheater, cheater pumpkin eater."

"You're an asshole."

Hendrix cackled. "Yes! I love it when kids swear."

Wolf shook his head, lighting a joint as he took the seat across from me at the kitchen table. "You did hear she only got suspension?"

"Yeah."

"Which is bullshit!" Hendrix shouted from the other room.

I hadn't told the guys about my deal with Drew—only because I didn't want to listen to their crap. And had I told Hendrix that Drew was the one who suggested he set fire to her car, he wouldn't have, on principle.

Wolf blew out a cloud of smoke. "Bet her rich daddy pulled all kinds of strings."

And it was like the lightbulb came on. That had to be exactly why Drew hadn't gotten expelled. Her dad was that big of a dick that he pulled strings to keep her in the shit school just because it was the shit school. That was on a whole new level of rich prick assholeness.

"Wonder if she's got a rich mommy who wants a boytoy?" Wolf chuckled before taking another puff.

"Probably…"

"Dude." Wolf slapped a hand over the rickety table. "Why aren't you more pissed?"

"I am pissed." He had no idea how much because it cost me a night inside Drew's tight little pussy.

"Bullshit. You're staring off into space with this…" His lips curled with a hint of disgust. "This look."

I pushed up from the table, rounding the counter to grab a coke from the fridge. "I don't have a look. I'm thinking."

"About fucking her or fucking her up? Because…" He glared at me for a moment, toking on his joint. "Had anyone else been throwing baggies of weed out like Santa on his Christmas float, you would be pacing the kitchen, mumbling."

He was right, so I started pacing. "I am pacing."

"You like her!"

"Shut up, man. I don't fucking like her."

"Hendrix!" Wolf shouted. "He's pulling a Zepp."

I heard the controller smack the wall before Hendrix barreled into the kitchen. He grabbed me by the shirt, and I shoved him away. "Don't give in to the pull, you cocksucking weakling. These girls are like Medusa, and they suck you into their cold, stone eyes filled with hate and then. Bam! " He clapped his hands in front of my face. "They got you by the dick, dragging you around, making you buy them jewelry and getting you sent to jail."

"She already sent him to jail." Wolf lifted a brow.

Hendrix narrowed his eyes at me, a sick smirk covering his lips. "At least Zepp got pussy and some blow jobs before he went to jail."

I grabbed an empty beer can from the counter and chucked it at Hendrix, pinging him in the head before Arlo bolted through the doorway.

"What's a blowjob? And did Zepp take the pussy to jail? I wanna see it! What color is it?" Arlo ducked underneath the table, assumedly looking for the cat he thought Zepp had. "Come here, kitty."

Both of the guys were doubled over, cackling. I grabbed Arlo and pulled him out from under the table. "They don't have a cat, Arlo."

"But, the pussy was definitely orange." Hendrix snickered. "Its name was Red."

I jabbed him in the shoulder, mouthing shut up before I grabbed my brother, threw him over my shoulder, and carted him up the stairs to the bathroom.

"I wanna go back downstairs."

"You gotta take a bath." I took a towel from the hall closet.

"I'm not dirty."

"Yeah. You are." I plugged the drain, then turned the taps, hopping up onto the sink while the tub filled.

Arlo stripped out of his clothes, throwing them all over the place before climbing into the bath. "I wanna sleep with Spike tonight."

"Spike?"

"Yep. Spike. The horse with a sword on its head."

Over his donkey he'd slept with since he was two? That was some serious shit. Evidently, Drew's charm could screw with the head of a six-year-old just as easily as mine.

"You know her, right? Can you send her a thank you text?"

My jaw set. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"It's the nice thing to do, Bubba." He splashed his hands through the water.

Of course, it was. But I wasn't nice, and neither was she.

After the water reached the top, I turned off the taps and went back to the sink. If I didn't stay in the room, Arlo would either not wash himself or drown.

I scrolled through my phone, ignoring the need I felt to send Drew a thank you text until I couldn't any longer.

Me: Thanks for the Push-Pops and the horse with a horn on its head.

Me: That's from my brother.

Me: I still hate you. X

Baby Girl: He's cute, and his taste in popsicles is outstanding. Hate you too. x

And the second I smiled at her message, I went into my contacts and changed her name to Medusa.