Fragmented Souls, page 3
“What’s up, little man?” I ask, squishing his cheeks.
“Harley,” he says, without a trace of humour on his face, not letting my appearance go unexplained.
“I’m fine!” I pull him tighter into my arms, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and apple that lingers in his hair. “Finally showered, I see!” I say, taking the opportunity to mess up his finely groomed hair. He pinches me, and I let go. “Ouch!” He rolls his eyes, pressing his hair back into place, trying to suppress a smile. “Go get changed,” I say, pushing him to the door.
He’s thirteen, a year younger than Rey and very small for his age, lean with little muscle from years of never having enough to eat, even with the extra food I give him or Tequila steals for him. His face could scream cuteness — it’s slightly round with big features and rosy cheeks — but he never smiles unless he’s with the gang, so his face is forever the picture of pain and distrust. The glasses he wears are too big, taped in the middle, and kept on his head by an elastic band. He seems like a regular kid, although genius-smart, but on the inside, he’s ten years more mature than his friends. When you look into his eyes, you see a boy who lost a dad he barely knew, at a young age, forced to grow up too fast.
“You good?” Jimmy’s hand falls to the small of my back, and I sigh, turning to him, wanting so badly just to fall apart in his arms.
“Surprise attack,” J screams, jumping onto my back.
I lose my balance, falling to the ground, bringing Jimmy down with me. J springs to his feet, dressed in fresh clothes that bunch around his ankles and upper body. “Stop playing around you guys, we’re gonna be late for school!” he giggles, placing his hands on his hips and marching forward.
As we walk to school, J goes on and on about his night. They went out, and he met a girl. God, he’s growing up fast. I remember when he was only five, and I had to start taking care of him. A skinny boy who watched me with hollow eyes, crawling into my bed when Eric and Mom fought, asking me to sing the monsters away when voices filled the halls.
I end up missing the rest of J’s story as we get to school right as the bell rings, just in time to see Tequila lift a wallet out of some guy’s pocket, taking twenty bucks and putting it back before he can even take a step toward the door. Not only is she insanely clever with computers and machinery, she is also very good at sleight of hand. I’ve learned not to keep anything of great value in my pockets, not that I have such a thing.
“Gotta go,” J says, running off to a group of boys much taller and bigger than him.
“Have fun!” I yell after him. He looks back, blushing, managing to give me a small smile before disappearing into the crowd. “He’s embarrassed by me.”
“Nah, the other kids just don’t have a cool sister like you.” Jimmy elbows me, dead serious.
“Oh, I have to go meet up with Luke,” I say, watching Jimmy’s face turn to concern, a look that always follows Luke’s name, no matter the situation. He hasn’t liked him ever since Luke became my boyfriend. Never has, never will, at least that’s what he always tells me.
At the thought of Luke, tension fills my chest, building and multiplying as the chaos of today subsides, creating space for a forgotten issue. For the rumours that have been drifting from person to person the past two days. Luke, my boyfriend of a year, who I never once thought I could be with forever, might break up with me today. He made the mistake of telling one of his gang members, so unsurprisingly, it made its way around the school pretty quickly. I was going to beat him to the punch, but I had a lot on my plate. “I’m good. I’ll see you in class, okay?” I nudge Jimmy’s chin, dreading the conversation I’m about to have with Luke. I consider just sticking to Jimmy’s side the whole day in hopes of steering clear of Luke, but that would just prolong the inevitable. Don’t be a coward, I tell myself before we open the doors and go our separate ways.
There’s only one school in town, going from age six to twenty-six. It’s built for a lot of people, but most kids drop out by the time they turn ten. It’s underfunded, named after Markley, a psychopath billionaire. He survived the gas and built the school in his honour before he drowned his three kids, stabbed his wife and shot himself in the head. They only keep the name because of the generous contribution of money he left behind, but they had some fun with the design, thinking it fitting to make the school resemble an insane asylum; dark tiled floors, gray walls, white lockers and steel bars on every second window. Surprisingly though, they spent most of their money on making holographic computers and putting solar panels on the roof. They have pretty decent teachers as well. So once you get past the suicidal energy, it’s not that bad, and the best part is anyone older than twelve can attend any grade level, as long as they pass the entry exam. You can study anything you want.
I run my fingertips along the chilled lockers, positioning my hair to shield the side of my face when someone walks past me. As I round the corner, a grey-eyed boy rests against the wall, his dirty blond hair gelled to perfection, a blue and gold jacket covering his thick arms. Luke is a stereotypical Opulent gang leader: straight white teeth, a heart-stopping smile, clean new clothes. We have very different lives, him being an Opulent, always having enough money for new things, and me being a Gutter Rat, with ‘new’ clothes coming from older girls. As his eyes meet mine, I can’t determine whether to feel anxious or relieved about what might happen.
“Hello, handsome,” I say in the happiest voice I can muster, standing on my tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. He doesn’t move to embrace me, and when I step back, his eyes sweep over my face. As they rest on my swollen black eye, they show a flicker of anger? concern? pity? He laces his fingers in mine, searching for words to fill the silence.
“You okay?” His other hand brushes over my cheek, and when he presses his lips gently, briefly to mine, my chest tightens to the point where I might pass out.
“I’m fine,” I reply, my smile fading.
“We have to talk,” he whispers as if there are people around to hear him. “I think we need to break up.” His lip quivers, which only makes me want to throw up because he’s 100% not sincere. He doesn’t really have that kind of emotion in him. He uses that lip quiver every time he tries to get out of the stupid shit he does.
“Why?” I ask, trying to keep my face blank, curious what reason he’ll give.
“It’s hard to keep up with you, your family, your friends. I can’t deal with you always being hurt, or you being with Jimmy every single day. It’s too much for me—”
“Too much for you?” I interrupt him, attempting to stay calm. I knew him doing this was a sure thing, but that doesn’t make hearing it roll from his lips any easier. I can feel anger creeping into my voice, but I know I can’t show it.
“Yeah.” He trains his eyes on the tiles, his voice almost provoking tears. Almost.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” My steady tone catches him off guard. I want to scream at him, tell him I’ve been abused mentally and physically for seven years, and it’s too much for him to handle? “You’re unbelievable.” I can feel my heart beating against my chest wall, building up a lump in my throat. So I turn away.
He grabs my hand, twisting me around, “Harley, you have to understand. It’s — It’s my reputation I’m protecting!”
My jaw drops. I want to hurt him the way his words dig into my skin, but I can’t. I don’t love him, but hearing those words out loud floating in the air, buzzing around my head, confirms what I’m most scared of — being seen as weak, as too much to handle.
I pull my hand away from his, and a sensation of calmness rolls over me, allowing my throat to loosen. “Luke, I’m sure no matter what you do, how you act or who you’re with, people are always going to know how shallow and empty you really are.” I turn away before he can see the tears creeping into my eyes and walk steadily to the bathroom, not even hearing his breaths follow me.
I check the stalls before I start to punch the wall. Over and over and over until red blossoms from my knuckles as my skin cracks. It’s not out of anger solely toward him but toward everything. I can keep all of the hurt bottled up and stored away, but eventually, it has to show.
There’s no threat of tears now; all my adrenaline has turned my anger to nothingness. I pull myself onto the windowsill, pushing open the glass, hoping the fresh air will clear my mind and bring some sense to what just happened. I didn’t think he could have this effect on me, and I don’t even know why I care. I shouldn’t care because the selfish part of me kept him around as a distraction, a break from my life — but maybe that’s just something I’ve been telling myself, to protect my heart from the pain of losing another person, because I wasn’t enough.
I take another long deep breath, letting it burn as I hold it in, before jumping down and moving to the mirror. I give myself twenty seconds, to break, to put the pieces back together, before cleaning the blood off my knuckles, wiping away my tears and walking out the door.
When I show up twenty minutes late to class, stares follow me, along with gasps and loud whispers as I walk down the aisle between the desks. I guess I didn’t really think about how the bloody knuckles and the black eye would look together. Every damn time my classmates make a spectacle of me. You’d think they’d be used to it by now, and why should they care? Everyone participates in gang fights. We’re all fucking bruised. I keep my eyes on Jimmy, holding my breath to keep my anxiety at bay. If I’m not weak, they can’t hurt me.
Even the teacher stares at me, stopping his lesson, waiting for the room to still, then carrying on when I find my seat.
Jimmy’s fingers find mine under the table, his eyes staying locked on my bloody knuckles as it takes all his strength not to ask me what’s wrong. He knows he has to wait until class is over. It’s an unspoken rule that I wish we didn’t need to have.
Class drags on for hours, when the bell finally rings, sending people out the door. Jimmy pulls me back, waiting for everyone to leave before making our own way out. He turns and holds my hand to my eyes as if it wasn’t attached to me, and I didn’t feel the warm blood staining my skin.
“Did Luke hurt you? Because if he did I’m going to kick his ass!” he grunts, starting down the hall.
“No, no.” A nervous laugh bubbles from my throat as I step in front of him, pushing on his shoulders. “God, Jimmy, you’ve been eating your spinach.” I push harder to keep him from pressing me forward, my shoes sliding on the dusty floor. “We broke up and I punched a wall, it’s okay.” He stops suddenly, almost sending me face-first into his chest.
His mouth twitches, a smirk showing for a short breath. “Why?” His gaze drops to my hands as he runs his fingers through his hair. That’s his nervous twitch. It’s like his stress ball.
“He said I was too much to handle. Basically, I was too much of a mess for him to deal with — I mean it’s not like he was doing anything to help me anyway,” I manage, finding the words hard to get out.
“Should have punched him!” he huffs, not even pretending to be sympathetic.
“You know it wouldn’t help. But I did imagine his face when I went a couple of rounds with the wall.” This time he smiles, letting it reach his eyes.
“If you ask me, it’s his loss. He doesn’t deserve you anyway — he probably couldn’t keep up with how brilliant you are and didn’t want to admit it!” He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. He’s warm. His heart beats fast, and his skin smells of his favourite homemade cologne that consists of grapefruit and lemongrass, with a trace of black pepper.
“Tell you what, we won’t go to our next class. Let’s go get the Brightly brothers to scrounge up some ice cream or whatever you want.”
“Can J come?” I ask, still wanting Jimmy’s arms to stay locked around me so I can feel safe for a second longer.
“Everyone can come. You stay right here. I’ll go get Tequila and J, then we can run and get Uri. Finn and Rey are still at work so obviously they can’t come — okay?” he says, already sprinting down the hall before I can answer, his jet-black hair flopping as he runs. He’s another reason why I stick around because, without him, I’d be lost.
Suddenly goosebumps run up my arms, and a chill falls down my back. Jimmy’s been gone ten seconds, and all the other kids have gone to their next class, but I sense I’m no longer alone.
“Behind you,” a warning whispers in my mind.
I don’t look back. Cautiously I start forward, retreating to the bathroom, but before I can take two steps, solid arms lock around my stomach, and a calloused hand clamps over my mouth as a person effortlessly pushes me up against the wall.
Chapter 3
(Jimmy)
Every time I hug that girl, it electrifies my body. Harley’s beautiful with her brown hair and seemingly plain brown eyes that, at the right angle, catch the sun and radiate gold. It’s like someone waited thousands of years for the perfect pieces to give to her. It sounds cheesy, but when you’re in love with someone, nothing about them is ugly, except for the fact that we’re ‘just friends.’ We’ve always been ‘just friends’ ever since we were four. That day when I first met her behind the old church where scarlet roses lined the fences, her hair falling wildly over her eyes as she danced with her dad — that was when I fell for her, actually fell! I tripped over a rock, falling face-first into the dirt, introducing myself with a mouth full of mud. She laughed, that cute girlish laugh, helped me up and said, “I like you, we’re gonna be best friends — okay?” All I could do was nod because I was busy promising myself that when I married her, I’d marry her right in that very spot.
From that day on, we’ve never left each other’s side. We work effortlessly together, there for each other through the best and the worst. I helped her with her fighting, and she taught me what living felt like. She saved me from destroying myself after the day I watched and ran as my parents were beaten to death by the Hunters on our way home. It’s not that uncommon in The Sticks for people to die like that. Half the kids that live here are either raised by their grandparents or live on their own. We could have stayed in The Shed after they died, but my grandmother took us in because she wanted Tequila and me to stay in school and be able to get decent jobs. She thought it would make things easier, but it didn’t.
Tequila started stealing more and stopped caring about her grades. I turned to drugs to stop the voices, to stop watching my parents die every time I closed my eyes. I wanted to stop feeling like it was my fault, but it only heightened the pain, and I liked it. For a month, I managed to hide the cocaine and ecstasy from Harley, knowing she would hate me for falling into the world Eric had forced her into. I had no choice because once I started, I couldn’t stop. It made me feel something again. I hid the drug use behind my grief, irritation, depression and nightmares, until the day I collapsed on the cool kitchen floor, overcome with hallucinations. I was drenched in sweat, with my knees to my chin, calling for my parents to run when my grandma and Tequila found me.
Confused. Stunned. Ashamed. Tequila ran for Harley, and when she got there and stood over me, she didn’t scold me or watch with disgust. Harley lay down beside me, her face inches from mine, her scent wafting gently, making my tears fall harder as she ran her fingers over my hair. She smiled gently, carefully, and whispered to me like my mother used to when I was home with a fever.
“Jimmy, look at me.” She lifted my chin, so I was forced to look her in the eyes. “They loved each other, you know how I could tell?” I shook my head, trying not to count all the faces circling around her. “It was the way they looked at one another and how they talked like poets, as though with every word they breathed, oxygen fuelled their love. Theirs will forever be the kind of love I’ll always fight to have,” she whispered. I stared at her, her steady gaze sobering me up. She didn’t cry. Her voice stayed calm, as if she did this every day. “That love they held for each other was only half of what they had for you and Tequila.” I let my eyes drift to Tequila, watching her silent tears as she led our grandma from the room. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Never in a million years would they blame you. They would rather die than have to bury their own son.” That’s when Harley stood up, stretching her hand to mine. I hesitated before I let her pull me to my feet, where she slid a jar of detox pills into my hand, uttering the words that I will never forget. “Jimmy, I can’t make you take these, and losing your parents will never get easier. It will always be in the back of your mind, but eventually it becomes almost bearable. They wouldn’t want you to live like this, as if you died with them. It’s time for you to make them proud, live your life for yourself. They would want that.”
“Watch it!” I turn the corner and collide with Tequila, causing her to stumble backwards into a locker.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking the memory from my head, trying to suppress a laugh as she hops on one foot, rubbing her knee.
“What the hell are you so happy for?”
“She’s single — she’s finally single,” I say, panting.
“Harley?” she asks, puzzled. She knows I’m talking about Harley. I’ve only been pining over her for years, and the only person who knows the absolute truth is Tequila.
“No, the girl who lives down the street,” I reply, exasperated, ruffling my hair.
“I’m pretty sure she’s four.”
“Oh shut up,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “Anyways, Luke broke up with Harley, quite rudely I’d say, but that’s not the point. He broke her heart and now she’s single.” My breathing starts to steady.
“Well, aren’t you sympathetic!” she laughs as I start to pull her down the hall with me.
