The Beginning

my novel about life and its hardships as well as the friendships and love that guide us

        I walked down the abandoned back streets of NYC, wandering as long as I could before anxiety drove me home. The cuts criss crossing my arms were covered by my sweatshirt, what could not be hidden by my shirt was weighed down with remnants of the stores clearance food. With my free hand I rubbed my eyes; I was exhausted. Staying up late listening for my little brothers cries for the third night in a row had worn me down to nothing. I couldn’t let my mom hear him. Her labored breathing still filled my ears and wandered around inside my head, almost as if she was right behind me. Casually, I turned around to check, but there was nothing. Pulling my thin jacket tighter against the crisp evening of New York City, I came out onto the main street. Many people walked by me on the sidewalk. The large bells tolled nine, but it was only the beginning of a long night for the creeps and the jerks, and for me. Home, I didn’t want to think about it. I hated the thought of it, though it kept getting closer every step I took. Each footstep echoed the list of things I should be doing in order to plan every move, every second of my life. I went over everything I should have done over the weekend, trying to figure out what to tell the teacher. How many times can you use the same lie? “I slept in late and missed the bus.“ Bus, what bus? Oh, yeah, the one I got kicked off of. Maybe I should try the truth, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get your five pages of homework done. I left my book bag in the house I was thrown out of.” Nah, they wouldn’t understand anyway. Slipping onto a dimly lit street, I could hear the yelling before I even reached our block. Though not distinct, you could hear the cursing above the thunder of the potential rainstorm. Not potential long enough. It began to pour, the heavens raining out their sorrows on my head. My grim expression slowly turning into emotionless-ness, the way I dealt with everything that life forced on me. Parents ran for cover, toddlers cried, and little girls and boys splashed through puddles before being chased into the house by concerned parents. The thunder continued until it was only me on the abandoned street, trudging through the Manhattan rain. I made my way to the broken gate, up the cracked sidewalk, and to the stairs I was thrown down so many times. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt further down my face, hoping to be invisible. The door wasn’t even cracked open before the screaming hit me, like entering another world from the peaceful bliss I had enjoyed on the walk home.

“I can’t believe you just left me like that, why don’t you stay with me for once!” she was screaming at my father, or whatever current boyfriend had come along.  The screaming stopped, and I felt her eyes suddenly glaring at my back. She stormed over to me and I tried to tune her out as I slowly took out the soup cans, hoping she would leave before they ran out.

“What do you think your doing on a school night? I do everything around here while that brat of yours screams. You should be grateful he’s not dead yet, or you either for that matter. I saw your report card today, your such a scumbag you didn’t even bother to try and hide it. After all this work I do for you, you can’t even keep your grades up? Your stupid, that’s why.” I tensed up as I felt the air slide by me, followed my the resounding blow to my head that resonated through my skull. I snatched the plastic bags off the table and threw them in the garbage. My anger was carefully under control.

“Are you listening to me?” Her hand slid across my face and my neck jerked to the right. I  kept my breathing carefully in check, not allowing the burning pain to fuel my angry fire.

“Look at me!” I glared at her, only for a second, before draining whatever emotion had been there, till all that saw her was hollow eyes. I knew it irritated her to have no reaction to her anger. She knew I knew and came back with the only thing she knew effected me.

“Yeah, well keep leaving your little brat here and he will be dead before long.” I didn’t want to care, I wanted to walk away, to leave forever, but I couldn’t. Responsibility called my name, screamed it at the moment. She watched me wait for her leave to go. The screaming got louder and louder and until she finally flicked her wrist at me to go. Laughing, she walked away. I swallowed all emotions and put the soup cans on the shelves. I didn’t breathe until I heard the TV click on and the game shows host irritatingly nasal voice filled the house. I walked by the couch where her newest boyfriend sat, staring at me. Probably wondering if he should call social services. I stared back at him, almost as if to challenge him. There was no threat in my eyes, I was pleading. I held his gaze, waiting for him to do something, say something. He slipped quietly out the door. I shook my head. I probably shouldn’t have scared him, he was nice. Then again, not nice enough to do something about what he saw. Oh well, there would be another one tomorrow.

I woke in cold sweat. It was midnight, according to my broken clock. Fear rushed adrenaline through me. I was supposed to be listening for Derek.

“You filthy little rat, I’ll kill you if you don’t shut up I swear!” Her words slurred together. I jumped up and ran into Derek’s room, praying she wasn’t there. I turned the light on and breathed with relief. He was in his crib, safe and sound. I could hear my mom beginning to get up.

“Shhh, go to sleep, please be quiet.” I told him.

“If I have to come in here one more night!” she was getting closer. I stopped her at the door of his room.

“Mom, please.”

“Look at you, you been getting all this sleep why I’m up at this time of night when I work my butt off all day for you!” She tried to advance past me, tripping over herself. I gently grabbed her arm, praying it wouldn’t leave a mark.

“Just calm down, I’ll take care of him, you go back to bed.” She jerked her arm away. I got in front of her and turned her around gently.

“Come on, you sleep. I’ll take care of Derek.”  I got her to her room before she shoved me away and stumbled back into her filthy bed.

“Miserable kids.” She swore as I shut the door. All of sudden, I was extremely tired.

“Come on Derek, now that you woke the whole house up.” I picked him up and brought him back to my room. I put him close to the wall so if I moved he wouldn’t fall off.

“You better have a diaper on,” I mumbled to him, before lying down and passing out.

“I hate you, I hate you!” she screamed. In the dream I couldn’t see anything, feel anything, as she stepped towards with me the knife. I enjoyed it, I liked not being able to feel. She came closer and an irritating ring began to fill my ears, swarming around my consciousness. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Its face bringing back the nights memories, which brought me back to the current problem.

“I’m late!” I sat up with sudden realization. “I am so dead.” I grabbed a shirt and pulled my pants on over my boxers. I ran into Derek’s room and grabbed his clothes off the changing table before trying to wake him.

“Alright, one, two, three.” I picked him up gently, but he didn’t want to be touched. He screamed and kicked and whined as I tried to put his clothes on. “Every minute counts.” I mumbled, just hoping he would calm down enough for me to put his legs into the pants. I gave him a toy and he shut up long enough for me to dress him. Finally, with shoes on his feet and half of his hair combed, we shuffled out to the car. I buckled him in and started the car, before realizing I had forgotten his extra bottle. My head rested against the back of the seat and I demanded of the ceiling, “why me?” The preschool workers would just have to do. I hurriedly dropped him off inside, mumbling something about forgetting bottles to the worker and scurrying off. I was so late and so dead. Detention had my name on it for the third time in a row. I pulled into the school parking lot and jogged into the building to grab my book bag out of detention. Conveniently, they were a hall away from each other. At least it was where I left it. The bell rang as skidded down the hall and swung into my homeroom. Everybody giggled to themselves.

“Mr. Guy Peterson.” she said my name in a frustrated voice. I stared at the ground while the teacher talked, wondering if I could make myself fall through if I looked hard enough. I manage to miss most of the humiliating speech, but I heard the ending.

“And you have detention today after school.” It crossed my mind to beg, but that wasn’t optional. I didn’t need to be more of a loser then I already was. I sat in my seat and slumped down, pulling my sleeve over the scar on my hand. I tried to pay attention in the class and do last nights homework at the same time, but it didn’t work very well.

“And now we will read section seven of our Literature workbook. Somebody kicked the back my seat as I put my pencil down; it skidded off and slid five seats over. I didn’t bother, just took out another one and tried to concentrate on notes.

“And that’s it for today class. Homework is on the board.” I pulled my hood over my head and walked out as fast I could.

“Guy!” I heard my name come from down the hall as I reached my locker. Lydia, one of my classmates, handed me my pencil.

“Thanks,” I answered, not meeting her eyes.

“No problem,” she said. I watched her walk away.

“Get over it, man,” I told myself. I turned back to my locker to face the tallest boy in my class. He was the star of football, baseball, and soccer, and just about everything else.  Also very good at messing up my life. I opened my locker allowing the avalanche of papers to fall to my feet. I knew better then to show weakness, already trying to drain my emotions, jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut.

“What do you want, Clay?” I said, in a voice I hoped was firm. “Look who it is,” he sneered. I took a deep breath and turned to walk away. I would make some excuse to get my books later.  I heard his footsteps behind me and my heart started to race. His hand came down hard on my shoulder as he spun me around to face him. “This yours?“ he held up the one of the thousands of copies piled on the floor. The copied headlines shouted out at me, my own face staring back at me. "15 YEAR OLD BELIEVED TO HAVE SHAKEN BABY BROTHER". Out of habit I backed up, out of the reach of his calloused palms. He laughed, “Your mom’s newest boyfriend hit you? Maybe it was your dad this time, you think he actually would have cared to teach you something. I doubt it, he probably can’t stand something as worthless as you anyway. Your mom probably doesn‘t even know whose kid you are.” Each word Clay spoke made the pain in my chest tighter, my breathing more intense. I swear he could smell that fear, the hurt he caused. It made me nauseated, but I understood. He didn’t know who I was as a person, he didn’t care. No one did, it was out of their understanding to believe that I could come from where I did and not have done what I hadn’t done. I didn’t expect him to get it, he got whatever he wanted, whenever. I knew it wasn’t worth fighting, so I didn’t. I would lose and get a worse reputation for it. I said nothing as he grabbed me by the threadbare collar of my jacket.

“We all know what you did, Guy. No one will ever forget it, we’ll make sure you remember it everyday of your life.” Laughing, he shoved me into the lockers, dropping me as my head slammed against metal. I sat up against the lockers fighting tears of anger and fear. I crossed my arms like I didn’t care and watched him leave. Lydia was waiting for him at the end of the hall. She glanced back at me as she began to walk with him.

“You hurt him, Clay,” she said in a low voice that echoed through the halls.

“Shut up Lydia, he will live. Even if he doesn’t deserve to,” he said purposefully loud. She glanced back at me one more time before he playfully pushed her and giggling, they walked arm and arm into English. Kicking the papers away from me, I laid my head down on my knees, pretending he wasn’t right.


    The last period bell rang and the call for buses was announced. I sighed,  detention loomed over my head like a brick wall ready to fall on my head. Guilt tugged at my heart, Derek would have to go home on the bus. He would have to face my mom alone, I remembered when it used to happen to me.

    “Yeah go ahead, run home to mommy!” Stumbling off the bus, I was already shaking. I made my way up the steps and caughtiously opened the door. I watched every move my small shoes made, hoping they wouldn’t squeak. Every urge inside me was to run towards safety, but I knew I had to be careful or she would see me. I tip toed as much as my six year old coordination would allow. I concentrated, trying to keep from losing control of my calm. One step, two steps, on three your dead. My inside voice would sing the song the kids made up at recess. I always believed if I could make it past three I was safe, I breathed the word and was almost halfway across. “Where’s my money?” It growled, her stale breath wafting around me. My heart started to pound. “I…I…used it for lunch. You said I could.”  “I did no such thing you little liar.”  A child’s integrity can only be pushed so far. If I was smart I would have accepted the fact, but I wanted to prove a point. “Yes you did, you said it right to me.”  I held my chin up defiantly. After all the times it happened, you think I would have expected it, yet somehow I was always surprised. I took a couple steps back, cradling my cheek. “Don’t you ever defy me you little…” a string of obscenities always followed. I still couldn’t keep it shut. “ Well then don’t tell me you didn’t say something when you did!” I saw the fist before the impact and I covered my eyes….”

“Mr. Peterson, come with me,” said the principle as he led me out of the classroom. I wondered if he felt the scars through my shirt, as he put a light hand on my shoulder. I wondered if he knew, if he did, he was good at not showing it.

“Sit, and no trouble from  you,” he commanded as he flipped switches and moved desks around.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” I nodded, already sitting down.

“Guy,” I looked up, his eyes softened.

“You want anything? I could get you a drink or something to eat…?”

“No, thanks,” I replied respectfully. He was a good man, none of this was his fault. No reason not to treat him with the respect anyone deserves for putting up with this stupid school. Left to myself,  my mind went over and over the papers Clay had stuffed in my locker. I hated the look on my face, the dumb expression that the media had captured as guilty. You could just barely see my mother in the background, crying dry tears. The huge bold words of the front page of the newspaper proclaimed what they wanted the world to buy. “Teen believed to have traumatized baby! Story on page 2 and 3“. I had to get my mind off it, off the images that were running through my mind. The stone cold heart of my group home counselor watching as the fight arose. The faceless jury that decided my fate. Trying to focus, I worked on homework, struggling to comprehend the directions. I gave up five minutes into it. It was no use, I would never get it. I hadn’t understood it all year, why start now? No one cared anyway. I pushed the books off the desk in frustration. I wanted to understand, but I didn’t have any time.

“Half the time I’m not even home,” I muttered. “Which would be the reason my whole arm is swollen,” I added, pulling up my sleeve. Redness surrounded the fresh cuts.

“Just what I need, an infection.”

“Guy?” I jerked my head up and stuttered,”

"What, what do you want, Lydia?” I fumbled with my sleeve, trying to pull it down without breaking her gaze.

“Oh I just wanted to….” I watched her expression change and I knew I was done for. “What happened to your arm?” I looked at her with a pained expression. “I should go get Mr. Bleakly,” she wavered.

“No please,” I jumped up, panic racing through me. “No, don’t do that, you can’t , you can’t, please, just, I won’t bother you and Clay again. Just don’t say anything.”

“What are you so afraid of? There is help for this sort of thing.”

“Nothing, I just…”

“Come on, follow me,” she interrupted sweetly. My eyes widened and I stepped back trying to gather my stuff. I couldn’t trust her, it was Clay’s girlfriend! He would murder me for this one.

“Just let me look at it,” she begged. I shook my head, slinging my backpack onto my back, I winced as I straightened out my arms.

“I’ll tell Mr. Bleakly if you don’t follow me.” She looked expectantly at me with her hands on her hips. I weighed my options quickly, I had no choice. I looked around as she led me down the mazes of hallways.

“If he finds us…” I began, but she cut me off.

“Here we are. Sit,” she pointed to the cot by the wall. She pulled keys from her pocket and began to rummage through drawers. I looked around while she was busy; the room hadn’t changed since the last time I was there. They had cleaned the blood off the wall though and there was new wallpaper. It wasn’t half bad, for a nurses office.

“Hah! Found it,” she said triumphantly and slammed the drawer. In her hand she held alcohol pads, gauze, and bandage tape. I frowned at her,

“How did you get those keys?”

“My aunt is the nurse here, she gives me the keys in case I ever need a band aid or something.” It was an acceptable answer, but I didn’t believe it. I looked around, trying to find an excuse, a way out.

“Are you ready?” she had already pulled up a chair and was waiting.

“I…I have to get home, my little brother….”

“Shh, it will only take a minute, really. I want to be a nurse someday so I kind of like doing this kind of stuff. If you don’t mind?” With nothing else to say I sighed and pulled up my sleeve. She grew quiet, her brow furrowing deep in concentration. Shamefaced, I tried to stutter an excuse, only to have her shush me again. I watched her knowing full well I could do this myself, but she was intent on doing it. Lydia ripped open the alcohol pads while my arm rested lightly on her leg. I looked around, hoping she was almost done. Each second that went by I was getting more nervous then before. If someone walked in and saw us in here, I could only dream of what would happen. When she had finally unfolded the last packet, she met my eyes in a silent warning. Turning her gaze back to my arm she slowly brought the pad to one of the deepest cuts. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to, but it was weird having someone else doing it. I didn’t even like looking at my arm, I didn’t know how she didn’t pull away in disgust. Lining my arm between the jagged cuts and dried blood, were scars of where it had happened before. I could only imagine what she was thinking. None of it showed on her face, she was deep in concentration. Once satisfied with cleaning, she applied gauze and quickly wrapped it with a surgical bandage. Carefully, she wound it around my arm, up and down, over and over. I looked at her face, her long black hair falling around a small chin.

“Why are you doing this?” I broke the silence when I felt sure no one would barge in. There was a pause before she replied.

“I don’t know, to make up for my boyfriend I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Because it is the right thing to do,” she added.

“How do you know what’s right? Why would helping me be the right thing to do?” I waited quietly while she stopped and thought about it.

“I guess because I feel bad he treats you like that,” she answered. I looked hard at her, searching her eyes. She had to have heard the rumors about me, the whole school talked about it. Was it possible she hadn’t heard? Silence lingered as I stared at her, she looked innocently back at me. I had to know, “Haven’t you heard?” I asked quietly, looking back down at my own arm. I could tell by her eyes she had, but I put my head down because just for a second I saw sympathy in her eyes.

“I don’t believe them, the rumors or the papers about you I mean,” she seemed to stammer, beginning to work on my other arm.

“But I shook….” It was my turn to falter. More silence.

“Are you saying you did?” There was a genuine curiosity in her voice. I couldn’t even believe we were talking about this. I hadn’t talked with anyone about this, except my boss. The rest was already decided, I had done it. I had shaken my little brother. It had been in the papers, on the news, everyone thought they knew. I wasn’t even sure myself, the night was hazy in my mind. Did she really want my opinion?

“I can’t tell her,” I thought furiously. I’m wasn’t even sure what happened that night.

“ Who did it?” she repeated, trying to read my eyes. I opened my mouth to mutter an excuse, but I didn’t get that far. The sound of the door slamming open shattered the silence. 

“You!” Clay screamed, his green eyes glaring. Fear filled me and my adrenaline raced. He wasn’t after me though. I watched as he went for Lydia. As soon as he had his back turned I dashed for the door. My feet pounding the hallway as I ran.

“Just run, she’ll be fine, get yourself out of there!” My mind screamed. I didn’t get far before I finally stopped and leaned against the wall listening to the screams echoing through the corridor. I was breathing heavy and my chest was closing. I couldn’t make it too much farther. I leaned over and tried to catch my breath. Her screams were filling my ears and pulling on my courage.

“Your not really going back? He’s going to kill you!” my mind reasoned quickly as I clenched my fists and ran back towards the office. Stopping outside the door, I caught my breath and looked for a weapon. Too bad I wasn’t a superhero, I could rip off the door and knock him senseless. Even a baseball bat would be nice. The light bulb clicked on over my head, though dim, it was there. The bat Clay had been carrying from practice was lying on the floor. I stepped carefully into the room. He had her up against a wall with his hand closed around her neck. I struggled to keep from picturing my mom choking my sister. The image was filling my mind, encasing me with rage I had suppressed for so long. I picked up the bat and aimed and swung. I hit my mark and Clay fell hard. Shocked, he touched the blood rushing out of the gash in the back of his head. Rage filled his eyes and before terror could overcome me, I closed my eyes and smashed his stomach. Talk about the bigger they are the harder they fall. He fell on the floor crying weakly, like a little kid. Already my conscience was ripping away at me, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be up for a little while and Lydia seemed to be fine. The damage was done and whatever happened would happen.

“Guy, wait!” Lydia called as I ran out the door. My feet pounded the ache in my heart, the anger and the thoughts that filled my head.

“Your just like her!” my mind screamed. “Your just like your mom, taking advantage of someone when they are weak. You think you will grow up any different? Your wrong, your just like her. You know you did it.” Still running, I had strength left to fight.

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did,” it sneered. Defeated, I collapsed on my car hood.

“Fine, I did it.”

“Don’t forget it.” I started the car and pulled out, hoping I was going to get home in time. 

Reviews

[Nevah Ann]

Very good :). It's a sad start to a story and I'd like to read the next chapter to see what happens next. You have a few grammar mistakes, but they look like typos. :) Look it over and it'll be great. Can't wait to see Chapter 2.