Prologue

PROLOGUE

MANNY

Age fifteen

I stare out of the window. Trig isn’t exactly my most favorite subject. Then again, I do have a high IQ, and that’s not even bragging. It’s just the truth. It could be worse. I could be outside doing laps and listening to Coach Teller yell at me, blowing that goddamn whistle that I want to shove up his ass. He’d probably enjoy it, damn asshat.

I hate this town. They’re not my people, the only person worth any of my time is my grandmother. She gets me like nobody else ever could. She doesn’t question my weird dress sense, or why I wear my hair this way, or any of the things that my mom and stepfather do.

They both act as if I’m barely a blip on their radar. Like I’m in the way.

I’ve learned to control my tremble of fear whenever my stepfather is around. I’ve also learned to dodge his fists more times than I care to remember. Sometimes he makes contact, but it’s easier when he’s been into the booze. That way I can get out of his way and keep the peace.

My mom has been putting up with his abuse for years and she won’t listen to anything I say. She’s not a great mom, truth be told. I’ve had to fend for myself for most of my life because when Mom isn’t out trying to get high, she’s out doing other unscrupulous things to get money. Then she blamed me; I was one more mouth to feed. Another ungrateful stain on her life to riches, the life she never got to live because she fell pregnant with me.

Grandma has tried a million times to get Mom clean, but somewhere along the way, she washed her hands of it all. I can’t say I blame her. Sometimes Mom is nasty, especially when she’s drinking tequila. In that way, I think Mom and him are really quite perfect for each other.

I’ve thought about dropping out of school, getting a job. I could live with Grandma, but I also don’t want to create waves for her and put her in the firing line of family drama. Heaven knows, there’s been enough of it lately. I hide the bruises from Grandma; I don’t need her coming in to bat for me. That would be worse.

I turn, feeling someone’s gaze on me. Big, hazel eyes find mine and I blink once. Twice.

Why is Shep Daniels staring at me?

He’s the quarterback, and quite possibly the savior of our town if this season goes as planned.

He looks away quickly, but not before I see his jaw clench. It’s probably the lip ring he hates. It’s new. And it’s also not what people do around here in Pineville, Iowa, but I didn’t get it to try to fit in. I’ve come to realize that this sleepy little town is set in its ways, and it doesn’t appreciate kids who are different.

I’ve also known for a little while that I don’t just like girls. I mean, I really, really like girls, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had weird feelings for dudes, too. And because I dress weird and refuse to cut my hair, it’s plainly obvious that the whole school thinks I’m gay. Most of the townsfolk in Pineville don’t like that idea. It’s a town that’s heavily built on religion and repenting for one’s sins; I wouldn’t expect any allies in my corner. Pineville is way behind the rest of the world when it comes to compassion and understanding. Those rules don’t apply here.

I don’t have any friends, well, maybe one or two, but they’re more like refugees who hide out in the library because the bullies can’t touch them when teachers are present. I’ve already had a bloody nose and fat lip this semester. If I graduate high school with my head still attached, it’ll be a freaking miracle.

And as for Shep? I don’t know what the heck he’s staring at me. Of course, he hates me like everybody else, but I’ve never had too much to do with him.

Things get even weirder when we’re placed together for a project in art class the following week. I really love art, and I’ve always been artistic; trying my hand at painting and sketching. It’s a solace that keeps me calm when all I want to do is scream.

I can tell by Shep’s annoyed demeanor; brow furrowed, eyes avoiding me and his arms folded, that he’s not happy partnering up with me, but I don’t make the rules. Our teacher is a tyrant, and neither of us dare ask if we can pair up with someone else. I mean, Shep’s pretty laid back. He’s the quarterback. It isn’t like he has to do much to get attention.

“Listen, queero,” Shep says, the second the teacher isn’t within earshot. “How about we come up with an arrangement?”

I quirk him a brow. Queero? I guess I’ve been called worse things. “What sort of arrangement?”

He snorts. “I need practice time. You need protection.”

I blink a couple of times. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, like I’m dumb. “I’ve seen how the other kids treat you. How would you like all of that to go away?”

I think about it for a second. I’ve had my head in the dumpster more times than I care to remember, sure, but it’s only this last year I grew a backbone and got an attitude. It sits nicely with that huge chip on my shoulder. “It depends what it entails.”

“Easy. I’ll get back to practice, and you finish the homework.”

I don’t let on that this is hardly homework, but we both know Shep will be off the team if his grades slip. And he isn’t exactly what you’d call artistic.

“You’ve gotta be kidding?” I shake my head.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“It’s hard to tell.” I examine his face. “You always look annoyed.”

His lips twitch. “Annoyed?”

“Yeah, like you’re ready to punch someone.” Hopefully not me.

“We’re getting off track here.”

“Next you’ll be saying you’ll pay me to finish your homework.”

He gives me a look that says ‘hey, that’s not a bad idea’.

“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter.

“So we have a deal? I’ll keep everyone off your back and you’ll fuck around with art like the good little freak you are, and we both get an A.”

I try not to bristle at the words little freak. “I still don’t see what’s really in it for me. I don’t get beat up that much.”

We share a look, both knowing that’s not true. Then his eyes trail down to my baggy shorts, pink sneakers, and then back up to the legion of bangles and beads up my arms. “That could change by the time the bell rings.”

Why are kids so intimidated by pink trainers? I mean, okay, I don’t have the money to afford Nikes, and I may have spray painted them, but whatever. At least nobody can accuse me of being unoriginal.

“I’ll think about it.” I turn back to the textbook, flicking my eyes to the front where Mr. Adams is distracted by helping a student. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t renege on the deal?” I add out of the side of my mouth.

“It’s not a lifetime deal, asshat . You turn in the work, I’ll keep you safe.”

“This is technically extortion.”

“Extortion with an end goal, one where we both win.”

So I agree. I mean, what choice do I really have? And being able to walk around without fear of being jumped is kind of appealing.

We end up spending weeks side by side. Him studying field positions and strategy on the team under his textbook, and me doing all the work. And I have to admit, things have been good lately. I can eat my lunch outside without the fear of someone sneaking up behind to yank my shorts down, or have my head smacked into one of the lockers. Kids can be fuckers.

So the weeks pass and Shep ends up being the perfect bodyguard. We leave each other alone, barely talk, and there’s an understanding out in the corridors; a place I’ve always dreaded having to walk.

Now and again, I catch him looking at me. I’ve no idea what he’s doing, but I don’t meet his eyes. He’s probably looking for any excuse to beat my head in and turn the entire school against me.

If another kid hassles me, Shep deals with it. So in a way, as the semester passes, I feel differently at school. Like there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Like I can get through this.

When he gives me a chin lift one day and says, “What are the bruises from?” It startles me.

I realize my long-sleeved top has ridden up, revealing the bruise that my step-dad left there a few days ago. I yank it back down. “I got tackled.” Apparently I don’t lie very well...

“You don’t play sports.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. I meet his eyes angrily. “What do you care, hotshot ?”

“I don’t. I just wondered why you always wear baggy clothes, and now I know why.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I can teach you how to fight.”

I snort. “Right. Like that’ll help.”

He leans toward me. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

I want to believe him. But I’ve been fooled so many times that I’ve lost all faith in the human race. Shep isn’t my friend. He’s just another dude using me for something, because that’s what I am. A human punching bag, if not physically, then definitely emotionally.

“Right, but like you said; this isn’t a lifetime deal.”

I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone.

I started hanging out with Toby and Jarrod from my science class. They’re not exactly jocks, or good kids, in fact, I’m fairly sure they’re bad news all round, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Nobody has ever wanted to befriend me, so I’ll take what I can get. They always wanna hang down at the mall, but they never ask me to come. That’s probably a good thing, because I don’t have money anyway, plus, they always get into fights.

“You think those assholes are your friends?” Shep shakes his head; it’s like he can read my mind.

“They don’t bribe me into hanging out with them, or trick me into doing their homework.”

“They’re not good guys.”

“And you are?”

“You think I don’t get heat because I’m seen talking to you?” He quirks a brow.

“That’s so decent of you. Whatever did I do before you came along?” I roll my eyes, flipping him the bird.

“You lived under a rock.”

I can’t deny that it isn’t the truth, but hearing it from him kinda hurts my feelings. It’s stupid, but deep down, I think Shep is a good person. He just can’t be seen with me in public.

I avoid the locker room like the plague, but sometimes I have no choice.

“The freak is undressing,” I hear one of the guys call out when I’m in the locker room later. “Might wanna watch your asses, if you get my drift.”

Snickers and hollers ring out around the small space.

I roll my eyes. “Funny.”

I usually avoid the showers, but coach made us do laps, and there’s no way I’m going to study hall smelling bad.

Shep ignores me, his back to me. I wouldn’t expect him to stick up for me. Aside from his unwanted pep talk the other day, he’s barely said a few words to me.

I’m also dealing with the fact he may have been right about Toby and his gaggle of friends. They smoke weed and now they’re pressuring me to sell for them. Clearly, the idea of me getting caught and kicked out of school isn’t of any concern to them. Still, they’ve not forced me to do anything. Yet.

“Meet us behind the bike shed after school,” Jarrod tells me. “We’ve got some new shit.”

I turn to Jarrod. “If it’s about weed, count me out.”

Before I can blink, Jarrod has me by the scruff of the shirt. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell everyone you touched me.”

I swallow hard, my heart suddenly racing. “What?”

“You heard me, numb nuts. Be there, or else.”

I shove him off, my hands shaking. I thought we were past all of this, and Shep isn’t here to save me now. Not that he gives a shit.

So I do as I’m told. I like being included in stuff, just not to be used as a pawn in their games. I don’t wanna give my step-dad something new to take out on me. So I show up.

I know it’s a bad move, but I don’t wanna go back to hiding out in the library. I can’t rely on Shep to keep me safe for the rest of my life, that’s not how the real world works. I’ve gotta learn to stand on my own two feet.

“Finally,” Toby snickers. “Thought you’d skipped out on us.”

I’m late because I thought about skipping out several times.

“Yeah.” I palm the back of my neck. “Jarrod said you had some new gear?—”

“Him and his big mouth.” Toby nods over to Jarrod, behind him stands Damien and Lance. Okay, this could get ugly.

“And you’re in, right?” Jarrod shoves me and I jerk back.

“No, I’m gonna sit this one out, fellas.” I start to back away. “No hard feelings. You guys are great and all…”

“Wait, where you goin?” It’s then I realize that Lance and Damien are blocking my exit.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” I hold my hands in front of me. “I just don’t want to do this.” For a moment I contemplate telling them my sad story at home, I doubt it’s something they’d care about.

“You think we befriended a fag just to get shot down the second you don’t wanna do something?” Toby sneers.

Man, I hate that word. “I didn’t realize friendships came with those stipulations.”

The two in front of me stare at me for a second. I think they’ve lost way too many brain cells.

“He’s being a smart ass,” Lance calls.

“Last chance.” Toby cracks his knuckles. “You wouldn’t want us to ruin that pretty face of yours, right?”

I mean, I could, but then I become their little bitch. This isn’t what I signed up for, and I don’t know where my moral compass came from, but ending up like my mom or him makes me want to throw up.

“Why did you even let me hang out with you in the first place?” I ask. A desperate part of me needs to know. It feeds my pain more than I care to admit.

Toby laughs, slapping me across the face. I don’t even see it coming, but I feel the sting. “We thought you were gonna be useful. Clearly, you’re just another homo loser who can’t even afford a decent pair of shoes.”

The sting of his slap has me reeling. I mean, it’s better than a punch— but the whack in the back of my ribs causes me to cry out. Too little too late to react, other than falling. I’m on the ground in a second. Fists fly at me, along with kicks and shouts. I curl into a ball, trying to protect myself. These guys are already high, they could beat me to death. Then it hits me… What if nobody ever finds me?

What if I just shrivel up and die here behind the bike shed like the loser I am? Would anyone even care?

Yes. Gran would care.

More shouting, swearing, but then the punches and kicks stop. I already feel cracked ribs and I can’t move. My nose flows with blood. Maybe I am dead. But if I’m dead, then why do I feel the pain?

“Jesus,” a familiar voice says. I curl into myself more and he adds, “It’s me, Shep. Don’t move, Manny. I got you.”

“Leave me alone,” I try to say, but I’m not even sure that the words come out.

Another voice behind him yells that there’s an ambulance coming. No. I don’t want this attention. Leave me alone!

“Nobody is gonna hurt you ever again, you hear me?” Shep grunts.

“You said that before.”

“I failed. I’m sorry.”

I don’t even answer. There’s nothing left inside of me worth fighting for. “I’ll fuck them up. All of them,” he whispers.

“Why do you even care?” I stammer.

“Because we’re friends.”

I choke a laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “We’re not friends.”

“We are now.”

I don’t remember being picked up off the grass. I don’t remember the hospital ride, apparently I lost consciousness.

I lie in bed for two days at the hospital. My mom visits once, but only out of obligation so the police aren’t called. Thank God he doesn’t show up. He’d only tell me to toughen up and take it like a man. But Shep visits; every day. I still don’t know why he came, or why he lived up to his promise; tracking down Toby and Jarrod and the other two, putting them all in the hospital, too.

We’re friends.

I’ve never had a friend before. I doubt it’ll last, but at least Toby and his crew got what was coming to them.

“Least I don’t have to run any laps for a while.” I start to laugh, but it hurts.

Shep’s face is serious, and I wonder what’s going on in that head of his. Still, I’m glad that we’re back to talking again. Plus, he kinda saved my life. “My brother… he’s in college,” he tells me. “He’s… he’s like you.”

“Banged up in hospital with broken bones?”

“No, idiot, he’s gay.”

I cringe at the words. “Technically, I like girls, too…” I’ve never admitted any of this out loud.

“Whatever. He went through some shit, okay? So I get it.”

Wow, so big, bad Shep Daniels has a heart? Who knew?

“So that’s why you made a deal with me?”

He gives me a lopsided look. “That’s one reason, but after hanging out with you — and this pains me to admit — but you’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

He chuckles, then sobers quickly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything, hotshot.”

“I said I’d protect you and I failed. That won’t happen again.”

“So, you’re gonna wear a superhero cape every day of the week?”

He points at me. “This isn’t funny.”

He really must care a lot about his brother to even consider being kind to me. He’s Shep Daniels. I know he’s gonna be a star someday.

“How about we make a new deal?” I cough.

He quirks a brow in my direction. “Hit me with it.”

“I’ll keep turning in homework, and you up the ante by watching my back, for real this time. I’m sure Toby and Jarrod are plotting their revenge.”

“Don’t worry about them,” he assures me. “Over my dead body will they ever hurt anyone again.”

And he was right.

They never did.

I made my first unlikely friend.

I learned that day that not everything is as it seems, and that there is good in people. Sometimes you just have to dig beneath the surface and find what lies beneath.