Page 14 of Reaching Avery
When he’d been arrested for drunken disorderly and assault on a police officer in the last town, Mom had packed all of us up and moved to Port Haven, only taking what we could fit in the car. All of our furniture had been purchased once we’d gotten here from yard sales and used furniture stores.
“Do you think he’ll find us again?” I whispered, staring at the tabletop. Mom didn’t answer, and I looked up at her.
Her eyes glistened with tears, and she squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, bug. It’s my fault your and Declan’s life has been this shithole. But I promise you, I’m going to fix it. Somehow. Roy won’teverlay a hand on my babies again.”
“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice croaked from behind us.
Declan walked into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes, before focusing on us. His brown hair stuck out in all different directions. He was such a crazy sleeper.
“Sorry we woke you, sweetie.” Mom stood and wrapped him in a hug. He was so much taller than her.
He kissed the top of her head and returned her embrace. “You didn’t wake me up. It’s okay.”
Later that night, I was in bed, staring at the stained ceiling.
The discoloration appeared to be from water leakage and only God knows what else. Hopefully not mold, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Declan was in the twin-sized bed beside mine, which was just a mattress on the floor without a frame just like mine, and he was already snoring.
I looked at him before flipping to my other side and closing my eyes. It was almost four in the morning, and I had to get up for school in a few hours. Good thing I functioned okay on little sleep.
***
That Friday, I sat at a table in the small courtyard, enjoying the sun before class. Some people gathered with their friends a few tables away, while others sat in the grass and talked. Guys that I could only assume were athletes stood in the center of the square, looking all muscled and reminding me so much of the guys who bullied those who weren’t like them—people like me.
Everyone fit together in some way or another, and I was just the outsider. The piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. Always had been. And I probably always would be.
I stood when the first bell rang and went inside to my locker.
Port Haven High wasn’t huge, but it was still big and kind of confusing. There were a lot of different buildings. The main building had the office, cafeteria, and classrooms like English, history, and art. There was a math and science building, and another for performing arts where I had my drama class. Then, there was a separate one for athletics and gym—that thank God I didn’t have to take because I was the most uncoordinated person on the face of the planet.
They weren’t far apart, which helped, and you only had to go outside and walk like ten or fifteen feet to get to the next one.
By the time I made it to history class, the room was already full of other students, but luckily, my preferred seat in the very back of the room was still available. I headed that way, keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anyone.
That’s when someone stuck their foot in front of my path, and I tripped, flying toward the tile floor.
Laughter erupted from the guy who’d done it, and his friends laughed too. I looked up at them, brushing my hair out of my eyes, and glared.
“How was the trip?” the jerk asked.
“Hey!” another voice growled, and that Maverick guy came into view. He neared the dude who’d tripped me before pointing to my books scattered on the floor. “What the hell, Patrick? Pick them up.”
The jerk scoffed at him before sneering at me. “Screw that.”
I stood up, but kept a distance, not wanting to get in the middle of anything.
Maverick stepped closer to Patrick, and from that proximity, he towered over the bully by a good three inches. “I said. Pick. Them. Up.” His harsh tone even gavemechills, and I wasn’t even the one his anger was directed at.
Patrick’s face paled a little, and he stepped back, putting his hands up. “Okay.” He bent and picked up my books before setting them on the nearest desk. He faced Maverick. “We cool, man?”
Maverick didn’t answer him. Instead, he came over to me. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I answered, grabbing my books from the desk and holding them to my chest. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
I didn’t see why he’d cared anyway. Patrick didn’t look like the jock type, and Maverick obviously did. Maybe it was like a chain of bullies? Patrick was above me and Maverick was above him, like some kind of freaking food chain, but instead of food, it was a muscle-to-popularity ratio of who dominated the school.
“I don’t like bullies,” Maverick answered. “And I know you’re not a damsel. You could at least stop being such a jerk to me when I haven’t done anything to warrant your bitchiness.”
My face heated, and I realized he was right. “Sorry. Um, thanks, I guess.”
