Leo Zachary

Leo Zachary

 

Today had been a good day. For once, I actually got what I wanted. Not gonna lie. I was a bit unsure of myself before it all went down, what with some of the other classmates who felt the need to point out just how much “real-world” experience they had with theatre and all before they submitted. But when Miss A had said my name I felt like the Charlie Sheen of writing.

You know, before he went all batshit crazy and whatnot.

And maybe I was a bit…proud in class, but I wasn’t going to apologize for it. For the first time probably ever, I was directing a play instead of acting in it. It was a nice change, being the brains of an operation instead of just a small puzzle piece.

I scrubbed away the fog on the bathroom mirror and stared back at the rare, unperturbed expression. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful frown.

On second thought, today had mostly been a good day. This morning before I drove to school I had caught my father and his wife doing things---forbidden things--in the living room.

Our house had a total of thirteen rooms, three bathrooms, a garage and basement and they chose to do their business in the living room! My little sister was home and everything. Was nothing sacred anymore?

I swear I had never felt so disgusted in my life. When two middle-aged adults felt the urge to screw each other every second of the day like a couple of primitive Neanderthals, something was seriously wrong. Even I had more self-control than that and I was a hormonal seventeen year-old.

And no, I never bothered to tell him about the play when I came home after school--not that I could face him without wanting to vomit in his face. Quite frankly I didn’t care what he thought about my accomplishments because, quite frankly, I didn’t care about him. I just knew that I wanted to avoid even being in the same room with him every chance I got--especially since she and her weirdo daughter had moved in a few months back and it seemed as if no matter where I went in that godddamn house I was being provoked.

I just couldn’t convince myself that I would be able to stop myself if I got the urge to say something that would get me grounded---whatever that meant.  I’d never actually gotten grounded but that was the word my dad always used when he wanted people to take him seriously. Usually he’d end up taking away my car---which just plain sucks.

That was exactly what had happened when I oh-so-brilliantly mouthed off to him about his lack of general decency and, well, everything else. Once I got going, I couldn’t stop. I went after her too and told her exactly what I’d been wanting to tell her for while now.

I referred to my father’s wife as “her” or “she” partly because it was difficult for me to remember her name, and partly because I didn’t actually care.

At the time, I had been so angry that I couldn’t even remember exactly what I called her, although I believed it was along the lines of “cheap, non-self-respecting, dirty ex-w***e”.

My father’s punishment wasn’t going to stop me from going out on a Friday night--which he would soon find out once returned home from wherever the hell he was and saw that I was gone--but it sure made things a whole lot harder. Tonight, for instance, I had to depend on my best friend Mason for a ride to some party, who sure as hell was taking his sweet time getting here.

It had literally been ages since I’d texted him and since then I’d waiting here at home, alone, with nothing to do but kill time. Knowing him, he’d probably ditch me for a night out with his girlfriend--like the whipped loser he was--and I’d be forced to kick his a*s.

Which I really didn’t wanna do, mostly because he’d probably just kick my a*s forreal.

As a result of that whole fiasco I’d caused with father, I ended going to school with a huge headache--and I had to take the bus. And as if that hadn’t been enough, I also had a tiny, yet inevitable confrontation with no other than Little-Miss-No-Life in drama class. I rolled my eyes, irritated by the mere memory of it.

I splashed water on my face from the bathroom sink, trying to keep it from bothering me, since it was, after all, minor. Aside from, well, my home situation, I couldn’t think of anyone more irritating.

Since the beginning of the semester I had to sit in class and listen to her complain about how much she didn’t want to be there, how she was never going use it in the real world and a basically just whole bunch of blah…blah…blah.  I usually didn’t have to wait long for her to shut up though. Sooner or later she’d realize that everyone was ignoring her.

Not surprisingly, I was not the only one at school who felt this way. Over the years she had earned herself a pretty solid reputation for being an intolerable, self-righteous b***h, if I you will. I wasn’t even exaggerating. I had a total of three classes with her, two of which were easier to ignore and forget about her. I often got bored talking to the kids in drama class and therefore my attention tended to wonder during that particular period, but in history and English I had a few close friends to socialize with.  In every single one of them, nonetheless, she sat alone at the front of room--proudly, might I add--as if she even had any other choice. As if anyone would talk to her.

Honestly, she looked so pathetic sometimes that even I felt bad for her.

For, like, a second.

It was extremely hard to feel even a little bit of sympathy for someone with such a compulsive need to be right. The more she tried to test me, the sooner she’d realize what kind a guy I really was.

That being the…not-gonna-take-your-bullshit-so-don’t-even try-it type of guy.

And as much as I liked Miss A, she acted as if the girl was some kind of uplifting saint. Why couldn’t she see that April Jones--self-declared outcast--only entered the contest because she thought she could show everyone up? Why else would she even bother get involved in something that was--and I quote--“a waste of time”? In the end, all she proved to everyone was that she was petty. Petty enough to get angry about losing something that meant nothing to her while it meant the world to me.

And rest assured. No one was shocked.

 

I slid a hand through my hair, the waves already starting to form. Pull a toweling firmly around my waist, I headed downstairs to look for my phone--although I was pretty sure I’d brought it into the bathroom with me. I spotted it on the kitchen counter, frowning again. Mentally making plans to call Mason on his cell phone if he hadn’t already replied to text already, I checked my messages.

“You know what I don’t get?”

I jumped, nearly dropping my phone on the floor. A middle aged girl with a long mane of thick, curly hair and a heart-shaped faced had appeared before me. She was still in her school uniform, and was wearing her usual, mischievous smile.

“Why boys can show their n*****s and girls can’t. I mean, it’s twenty-first century. They’re supposed to be equal, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, it’s better that way. You’ll realize that someday when you’re older.”

“Well, Miley Cyrus is older, and she thinks girls should be able to show their n*****s too.”

“Well, Miley Cyrus…is a s**t,” I said sweetly.

“That still doesn’t make her wrong,” she said, arching her neck, equally mocking.

I sighed inwardly. This was not happening. Goddamnit, she was only twelve years old and she already wanted to go out without any clothes on.

I sighed again, but this time it was out loud. “You see, Leah,” I said through my teeth, bracing myself. “Girls and boys…have different parts. And sometimes--you know what? it doesn’t even matter. It is not my job to have this conversation with you. So there.”

“Why not?” she protested. “I don’t have a mom--I don’t even know what she looks like. And I can’t very well have the sex talk with dad, now can I?”

“I will never talk…to you again if you don’t let it go,” I warned, disturbed and a little hysterical.

She crossed her arms and rolled her big, dark, almond eyes.

My eyes.

“Fine.”

I relaxed a bit. “And you do have a mom,” I added, injured by her comment. “She’s just not…available…at the moment.”

“Oh, you won’t be needing that,” she said abruptly as I went back to searching through my messages.

“Look, can we not do this right now? I have plans to go out tonight and Dad left money on the counter for pizza. It will here later, ok--“

“--I already told your friends that you cancelled,” she said. Except her words didn’t really register until later when I realized that Mason had replied, but only to tell me that he wasn’t going to pick me up anymore--after I told him that I wanted to stay home for the night.

“You took my phone?! How--Why would you do that?” I was pissed off and irritated again. Now I had to wait even longer for Mason to pick me up, if he decided to come back for me at all.

Leah grinned, “Cause it’s fun.”

I gritted my teeth. “Leah, I suggest you leave--before I really get mad.”

“Oh, come on. It was just a joke,” she pouted.

“You know that whole spoiled-brat show you do for attention? The one you think is cute but really isn’t? It’s getting old. Now go away.”

I held the phone to my ear, praying that he didn’t have it on vibrate.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“None of your business. And if I catch you on my phone again you’ll regret your conception.”

“You’re still going?”

I rolled my eyes. The phone continued to ring. Come on, Mason.

“Why can’t you just…stay?”

“For the last time, go play in your room or something, all right?”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I won’t be annoying, I promise. But can’t you stay? I don’t want to be alone again.”

I sighed impatiently, “You’re, like, in middle school now. Don’t you have friends you can call over or something? It’s only eight.”

She didn’t say anything else while the phone rang a few more times. I tried the number again.

“Just forget it,” I heard her say, though I wasn’t completely sure. I’d barely even heard her.  

I looked at the stool she had been sitting on, but it was empty. She had turned around and was walking away.

 

“The number you have reached is not--“

I ended the call. Mason hadn’t picked up, and Leah was gone. I wasn’t quite sure why but I trailed after her prepared to forgive her since she seemed kinda upset. I guess I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t done any real damage. After all, it probably wasn’t a good idea to have the only person in the world I truly loved, hating me.

I found her lying face-down on a sofa in the living room. I didn’t think she realized I was in the room because she chose that instant to wipe something off her face.

Great.

At that point I couldn’t do anything but accept the wave of guilt that fell over me as I finally realized what I’d done.

Girls. Why’d they have to cry about everything?

 

I sat awkwardly at the edge of the sofa, trying to think of something to say. But before I could even gather my thoughts she realized I had followed her and grunted out loud, embarrassed and angry.

“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone,” she said into the pillow

I tried to lighten the mood, “Well, just a second ago you wanted me to stay--“

“Well, I don’t want you to anymore so just leave.”

Yep. She was hurt. And I was the dick responsible.

“Leah, I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t know you wanted to hang out with me that bad. You should have just said so.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” I said, tired of playing child psychologist.

She didn’t answer.

I pressed my lips together. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to tickle it out of you.”

“Oh, please. I’m not five anymore. I’ll just fight you back.”

“Fine. But if you fight me my towel will come off. Now is that what you want?”

And with that she quickly sat up on the sofa and faced me, her eyes and cheeks red and swollen, but smiling. “Ew, no!”

I crossed my arms, waiting.

She sighed. “I’m just… tired of being by myself all the time.”

“You mean at home?”

“At school…at home…” she said distractedly. “When I’m at home I don’t really talk to Sam or Irene--“

“Oh, you mean the home-wreckers? Who does?” I shrugged.

“--And daddy’s okay but he’s--”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him company either, kid,” I remarked bemusedly, making her giggle. “But what about your friends?”

She huffed. “I don’t have that many friends. And the ones that I do have always ditch me,” she growled. “I even got them expensive gifts on Christmas.”

“You bought them gifts?”

“And they still ditched me!”

I stared at her. Leah was having problems making friends at school? That didn’t make any sense. I mean, she was beautiful…and funny…and smart. What else could anyone want from her? Was it so bad that she actually had tried to bribe her friends? I mean, I knew we were more than well-off but that was a bit over-the-top.

“You know what? Maybe your school is filled with a bunch of jerks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Suddenly we heard noises of footsteps and giggling outside. The windows to the living room were in back of the house, so that meant that whoever it was had keys to the house and was in the back yard.

Leah dashed to the window. “Oh, it’s just Sam, and she’s with her friends.” She paused. “They look like they’re just…laughing.”

I stood up. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go upstairs, pick out of those animated princess movies you’ve seen a bunch of times and we’ll have a movie night?”

“’Kay. But first…put some clothes on.”

“Will do, Captn’.”

“Be right back!” she called before running off.

It was just as I had suspected. Sam was just as trashy and her mother. She knew my father and her mother wouldn’t be home for the night so she invited her fellow heroine-addicts over for a smoke.

My phone, which had been left on the living room counter, vibrated. It was Mason who had finally decided return my calls, but I suddenly I had a better idea.

 

“This is the Boston Police department, what is your emergency?”

“There are a group of young people causing a commotion in the neighborhood and I can’t sleep.”

“Please hold sir. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”