Shattered Soul Page 6

  “Well, I think you do and I need another one, too. Come on,” she insisted, interlacing her fingers with mine and pulling me inside behind her.

  Trip’s eyes grew wide and he covered his smile with his hand. Thoughts of Ali swarmed my mind, but I still followed behind Sidney like a freaking puppy on a leash into the house.

  We wove our way through the crowded living room filled with people dancing in front of the speakers and laughing, headed towards the kitchen. Halfway there, Sidney slung her long, silky, brown hair over her shoulder and turned to me to smile. A smile I knew all too well. Sidney was tipsy and looking to score.

  And I happened to be the lucky candidate she’d chosen tonight.

  Maybe out of sheer pity for my busted up face, or maybe because of the history we shared. I didn’t know what her reasons were, but I did know what she wanted by the end of the night—me. And I didn’t know how I was going to explain to her I couldn’t. Sidney wasn’t exactly the kind of girl you said no to.

  Hell, I don’t think anyone had ever said no to Sidney Owens before.

  We pushed past people, forcing our way into the kitchen towards the butcher block in the center, which was littered with opened bottles of liquor and soda. Sidney reached for a bottle of Bacardi and sloshed some into her cup.

  “Looking to get drunk, huh?”

  Her lips twisted into a wicked grin as she reached for a bottle of Pepsi. “That and something else,” she insisted raising her eyes to mine.

  I looked away and smirked. She giggled. Yep, I was definitely in trouble.

  I didn’t know what Ali and I were yet, but I knew I didn’t want to do anything with Sidney tonight that might ruin my chances. I couldn’t sleep with Sidney. I had to find a way out of this.

  Sidney reached over the counter for a sleeve of plastic cups and handed me one.

  “Want to pour it yourself or do you want me to?” she asked in a honey sweet tone.

  “I’ll get it.”

  I poured myself a Pepsi and took a swig as the song blaring from the speakers changed. Sidney took a swig of her drink and began swaying her hips back and forth, dancing to the music beside me and shouting out the words.

  “Let’s dance!” she insisted, gripping my hand and tugging me behind her, again.

  “I don’t dance,” I shouted as we made our way towards the speakers.

  “Well then, just stand there and watch,” she breathed in a teasing tone against my ear. “Hold this for me.” She shoved her cup into my free hand.

  I leaned against the wall, watching Sidney dance seductively to the music a few feet away from me while holding her cup. My eyes zeroed in on her lips as she sang the words to me. They flowed from her mouth and wrapped around me like the strings of a spider web holding me in place and making me her prey.

  All I could think about was how hot she was.

  In a lacy black tank top that showed an inch or two of her tanned stomach and a short denim skirt with flip-flops, Sidney looked mouthwatering and she knew it. The way her body moved, so slow and seductive, mixed with the look she was giving me…she completely turned me on.

  I had to get out of here, and I needed a cigarette bad.

  I held her cup out. “Here, I’m gonna go bum a cigarette off Trip,” I shouted over the music.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she purred after me.

  I shook my head and held my breath, fighting desperately against urges that were rising within me. I didn’t exhale until I’d closed the front door behind me. Joe, my middle man, sat perched up on the railing, smoking a cigarette beside Trip when I stepped out.

  “Can I bum one off someone?” I asked.

  Joe dug in his pocket and tossed me his pack.

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s the matter with you? Can’t handle Sidney’s atomic hotness anymore?” Trip grinned.

  I shook my head and handed Joe his pack back. “No, it’s not that I can’t, it’s that I don’t want to,” I informed him, lighting my cigarette carefully.

  Joe remained silent as he took another drag, and Trip didn’t have to say anything, all I had to do was look in his eyes to be able to see how completely shocked he was by what I’d just said.

  “What do you mean you don’t want to? She’s smoking hot!” Trip squeaked.

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

  “Oh, man. Either you got hit in the head one too many times, or else you’ve got it bad for Ali.” He obviously thought he was funny.

  I shrugged. “About as bad as you’ve got it for Miranda.”

  The smirk fell from his face, his gaze shifted to his shoes. “Miranda…right.”

  A moment of silence hung between the three of us and I almost felt bad for putting Trip on the spot.

  “You talked to her yet?” I wondered.

  “Not yet, no.” he answered.

  Joe chuckled. “Well, now’s your chance, buddy, here she comes.”

  I turned and peeked in through the well-lit window. Sure enough, Miranda was weaving her way towards the front door. I glanced at Trip; he was staring directly at her and I could see him swallow hard. I put my cigarette to my lips and took another drag to hide the smirk twisting onto my face. Poor guy, he was hopeless. You’d think Miranda Cooper was a fucking goddess with the way he acted when she was near him.

  The door opened and Miranda stumbled out. “Any of you guys got a menthol?” she asked, fumbling to close the door behind her. It was clear she’d had a little too much to drink.

  Neither Joe nor I responded.

  “Yeah,” Trip answered.

  He dug in his pocket for his pack as Miranda slid herself up on the banister beside him, looking a little less than graceful. Must be Trip’s night; now if he fucked up while talking to her she was so drunk she wouldn’t even remember.

  Trip handed her a cigarette and flicked his lighter, holding out the flame to her. I grinned at the two of them, feeling proud of my boy for his smooth move.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Trip slipped his lighter back into his pocket.

  Joe nodded at me and hopped off the rail. “I only got a bowl, but you wanna smoke?”

  My eyes shifted to Trip and then back to Joe before I answered. “Sure.”

  “You guys?” he offered.

  “Nah,” Trip replied.

  “I’m cool,” Miranda said, her eyes moving back to Trip as her plump lips sprung into a little grin.

  “All right.” Joe started down the wooden steps, I followed.

  “So, what’s up?” I heard Miranda ask Trip as we walked out into the darkened yard towards the side of the house. I heard Trip reply, but it was muffled and I couldn’t make out his words.

  Once Joe and I reached the side of the house, he pulled a glass pipe from his pocket and a cellophane with a nugget of weed inside. I dug in my pocket for my lighter and flicked it, creating a flame for him to see by.

  “You all right, man? Your face looks pretty tore up,” Joe asked.

  Joe was a nice guy. I’d never had any problems with him, but that didn’t mean I was going to spill my life story to him.

  “I’m fine,” I said and a long silence passed between us when I didn’t elaborate any as he continued to pack the bowl.

  “Here, you deserve greens tonight,” he insisted, handing me the heaping bowl.

  I touched the cool glass to my lips and flicked my lighter. A sizzling filled my ears as the weed burned and the smoke, bursting with THC, clouded my lungs. I passed the bowl and exhaled a mushroom cloud of smoke, which left a fresh green taste in my mouth. It was definitely not what I’d sold him.

  “That’s some good shit, man,” I complimented.

  “Right?” He exhaled and passed it back to me. “It’s floatin’ around, but the price is pretty steep.”

  I nodded and took another hit.

  We stood at the side of the house holding a typical chit-chat conversation as we continued to pass the bowl back and forth. It wasn’t long before someon
e sniffed us out with high hopes of joining in.

  “What’s up? You guys over here holding out on me?” Matt Hinson, a short, skinny guy with a mop of dark, curly hair asked.

  My gaze shifted to Joe. A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth, Joe didn’t seem too happy to see Matt. I tried not to smirk as reasons why filled my head. In the end I settled on one, not a thought, but a fact. Matt Hinson was nothing but a free loader. Something Joe obviously knew.

  Matt walked to stand beside us, his eyes zeroing in on the bowl, a goofy grin stretched across his face. Joe passed the bowl to me without acknowledging Matt in the slightest. I hit it. When I was done, Matt held out a hand for me to pass it to him. I smiled and handed it back to Joe, it wasn’t my weed to decide who got to smoke.

  “I think it’s about beat, man. You good or you want more?” Joe asked me, smacking his bowl in the palm of his hand to empty it.

  I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good.”

  And I was, my mind felt fuzzy and I had the whole fish-eye thing going, the distorted vision of being inside a glass fish bowl.

  “Cool,” Joe said shoving his bowl back into his pocket.

  “Awe come on, man,” Matt whined. “That’s messed up.”

  “No. What’s messed up is how you still owe me from the last bag I fronted you and for the joint from the other day.” Joe walked away.

  I put my hands in my pockets and walked back towards the front porch with him, leaving Matt standing in the dark. Trip still sat perched up on the rail with Miranda beside him when we came around front. They were lost in conversation.

  The rest of the night went smoothly. Trip and Miranda got quite cozy, though I doubted she’d remember how cozy come Monday, but Trip certainly would. Sidney found some other guy to bump and grind with, forgetting about me completely.

  I only had a few complaints about the night. One being my throbbing rib cage and face, a constant reminder of how my night had started. And two, the simple fact Ali wasn’t beside me enjoying the night, too.

  Chapter Eight

  I spent my entire Sunday at Trip’s house, hiding out in his room from his parents. Which was fine with me, I spent the majority of the day sleeping. I finally made myself start home around ten that night.

  The car sat in the driveway. I cringed inside as soon as I saw it, my hopes of Calvin not being home deflating inside of me like a popped balloon. I sauntered towards the front door, grateful for the porch light being off, and stood in the safety of the darkness, gathering my nerve to open the door.

  Finally, I took in one last deep breath and turned the knob.

  The living room light blinded me while my eyes adjusted. A heavy smell of burning cigarettes filled my nose as I closed the door behind me. I made a beeline towards the hall, head down, my body cutting through the thick haze of smoke.

  Calvin chuckled at me from where he sat on the couch. I didn’t have to be looking at him to picture the shit-eating grin smeared across his face. I made it down the hall, thankfully without giving my brother even the tiniest bit of reason to come after me. Once I got to my room, I locked the door behind me and went straight for my tin box. I packed up my trusty bowl and sprawled across my bed.

  I woke the next morning to shouting coming from the living room. I was still completely dressed—all except for my shoes, which I must have kicked off at some point. My assed bowl still sat in my hand, its ashes sprinkled across my comforter.

  “Damn it, Calvin! I’ve told you not to bring that shit into my house!” Mom shouted.

  My eyes popped open completely at the sound of her tone; she was pissed. I glanced at the alarm clock, it was 6:17 a.m.

  “Mom, chill! I didn’t, there isn’t anything here!” Calvin blubbered in response.

  “You mean, there isn’t any left! There’s a difference,” she corrected.

  I smiled, imagining the look on Calvin’s face. I sat up in bed, waiting for any response he might give to that or for anything else my mother might add, but the next thing I heard wasn’t words. It was the slamming of the refrigerator door and stomping feet headed towards the hall.

  Mom’s angry footsteps. I knew this the same way I knew it hadn’t been orange juice she’d grabbed from the fridge, but rum. This argument happened every few weeks now. Maybe it was my mother’s way of showing she did care about what happened to Calvin and me, or else it was her way of showing us she hated the way things were.

  Whichever reason was true didn’t matter, because just like all the others before, this little spat wouldn’t change a thing. Mom would still go to her room and down half a bottle of rum for breakfast while Calvin snorted his last few lines so Mom wouldn’t find them.

  God, my life was fucked up.

  I grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower. I made the water as hot as I could stand and let it pound me in the back until it ran cold. When I stepped out, I toweled myself off gently and stood staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

  The swelling in my left eye had gone down, leaving behind one hell of a shiner. My lip was still fat with a split on one side and a nasty bruise now lined my jaw. As for my rib, it was bruised and sore to the touch, but I was positive it wasn’t broken or fractured because it didn’t hurt to breathe.

  I pulled on my clothes and grabbed up my dirty ones from the floor.

  “About damn time!” Calvin shouted, rushing past me and into the bathroom the second I opened the door.

  I didn’t respond. It would be a while before I spoke to him again, if I could help it.

  I tossed my dirty clothes in the corner of my room and sat at the edge of my bed to pull my shoes on. I snatched my books off my dresser and walked to the living room in search of my morning cigarette.

  “Damn, you still look tore up!” Brent half laughed at me from the kitchen, glass of water in hand, as I walked into the living room.

  “Yeah, thanks, hadn’t noticed,” I replied sarcastically.

  Jade sat on the couch, Indian style, bouncing her knees up and down. Her skin glistened with sweat, dark circles ringed her eyes, and her lips were chapped and blood red from licking them too much. Telling her she looked like shit would be giving her a compliment.

  “Hey, you got a cigarette?” I asked her, hoping she had at least one left.

  Her eyes shifted to mine quickly. They were solid black with only the tiniest hint of honey brown around the edges. In a quick jerking motion she fumbled to grab a pack sitting on the end table.

  “H-h-here, here’s a few,” she stuttered through grinding teeth and handed me four.

  I hesitated in taking them from her, wondering how long she’d been up for. Obviously awhile, because when someone stutters like she did, it’s because their brain is too tired to keep up with what’s going on anymore.

  At least that’s what I always thought.

  I took them from her fingers and put one to my lips. “Since when do you smoke menthols?” I asked, realizing what she’d handed me.

  She grinned sheepishly. “I don’t, they’re Calvin’s. I figured he owed you.”

  “Oh, well in that case,” I said, taking the whole pack from her and sliding the ones she’d given me back in place.

  I did, however, leave Calvin one where his pack had been sitting before I left for school.

  I took my time getting to school, only because I knew from experience everyone would be asking what had happened to my face. I wanted to avoid the stares and constant questions, along with any sympathy or pity that might come with whatever answers I chose to give this time, for as long as I could.

  I wondered what people thought, mainly the teachers, when they saw me with black eyes and busted lips time and time again. Hell, they probably thought I was just some punk kid who deserved it.

  Deep down, there was a piece of me that sometimes believed that.

  I forced the thoughts from my mind and crossed the street, heading for the smoking trees. Crowds of kids were already crammed underneath;
must have been closer to the bell than I had realized.

  I wove my way into the crowd searching for Trip, my jaw dropped once I spotted him. Trip was standing with Miranda Cooper! They were smoking cigarettes together and talking. I grinned wildly, despite the shooting pain it caused in my lip. Apparently, Miranda had remembered the other night and liked it.

  “What’s up, man?” I greeted Trip while desperately attempting to tone down the goofy grin on my face. I nodded to Miranda next, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she replied, taking another drag from her cigarette.

  I pulled out one of my own and lit it.

  “Nothing much,” Trip said in a smooth, normal tone for Miranda’s sake, but I could see how ecstatic he was by looking in his eyes. “Your girl just pulled up a second ago. She was eyeing over here, searching for you no doubt.” Trip grinned.

  My girl? Hopefully he didn’t mean Sidney. She was the last person I wanted to see this early in the morning, especially after Saturday night.

  “Who? Sidney?” I asked.

  “No.” Trip nodded to someone behind me. “Her.”

  I spun around to see Ali walking towards me. My heart picked up pace at the sight of her. She wore a pale yellow jacket, denim shorts, and right-out-of-the-box-white Sketchers. Her blond ponytail swayed behind her as she walked, her books cradled in her arms, and a shy smile played at the corners of her mouth—until she got closer and saw my face.

  “Oh my god, Seth…what happened?” she asked, her pace quickening.

  “You should see the other guy,” Trip said.

  I smiled. Good old Trip, always there for me no matter what.

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  “You should have seen him Saturday night,” Miranda said, pursing her lips together while giving Ali a complete once-over with her eyes.

  Miranda almost looked disgusted by Ali. Girls, they could be such jealous bitches sometimes. Ali, however, didn’t seem to notice Miranda’s dirty looks at all, or if she did, she didn’t let it show.