Lady Odyssey
Gone.
This is private between Nakinagara and I. Readers are very much welcome, but please do not post unless you are Naki, but otherwise, enjoy reading!
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-Insert Quirky Title Here- {Private with Nakinagara}
- Thread starter Lady Odyssey
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Lady Odyssey
Gone.
Before he even had been given the chance to open his eyes, he could hear him. Downstairs, below the boy's room, he knew his father began to stir. Possibly getting over a hangover, too. Though he hadn't be certain as of how he knew, but it was just that--he knew it as a fact. Normally, his father slept through the morning and left David alone, for the most part, to take care of his younger brother. The fact that his father was already beginning to awaken made his stomach twist. It was the first warning sign for what was to come. David could sense it, like a deer being hunted in the dead of night by ruthless predators. He could sense his father's intent before he even opened his eyes, and it scared him straight to his core. He'd almost rather not know what would come. But he did know, and there's nothing he could do without it effecting Mason.
The blue alarm clock flashed the numbers, an annoyingly loud blaring noise spreading in the room followed by another alarm setting off in the room next to his. 6:00 am, standard time their father wanted them to be up at, despite the fact their father would sleep in until much, much longer than six o'clock, nursing his hangover from the previous night. Mason knew that much, David knew, but Mason didn't know anything beyond that. No one but David and his father did. Not even his best friend since third grade knew, and it was killing him slowly. He had dreamed of the day the secret got spilled out. But he couldn't let that happen. Mason would be punished for it. David knew it because his father had told him over and over since the sixth grade, and it scared him to death knowing what his father was capable of.
Ten minutes. Ten short minutes is the maximum time limit to take a full shower, dry off, and change into appropriate school attire picked out by their father─always solid colored shirts with button up crisp collars, slick jeans without a wrinkle, and plain white socks that reached just below his ankle. Thankfully, both David and Mason had their choice in shoe selection. David wore his Adidas shoes, and Mason wore his Converse sneakers. Haircuts were mandatory once their hair was too long. They couldn't be seen in t-shirts at school, and certainly not in public unless at home or with close friends. Rules were rules, their father had told them over and over. Shirts must be tucked in before leaving the house. Shoes double-knotted. Hair combed, teeth brushed. That was the Rules. Rules would be Rules.
Mason was quiet as the two walked. David had successfully avoided their old man that morning. Backpacks rest on their shoulders, both shirts tucked in. Mason had messed up his hair the moment they walked out of the house, though. David didn't care much if his hair was combed or not. He had sneaked in hair gel the other day ago--he had run out of it for a whole week, and his best friend had teased him the whole time--and he was pretty content with how he appeared. "So, how's the project goin' with William?" he spoke with a lopsided smile, attempting to lighten the mood. Neither of them enjoyed mornings anymore, but Mason particularly hated mornings more so than David. The project Mason had been working on, in Physics, hadn't been going to well. He didn't have to ask to know.
"Freakin' bad. He sits on his ass all day while I do the work. Supposed to have half of it done yesterday--we barely started on it," Mason grumbled, rolling his eyes. David laughed, gently nudging the younger boy.
"I know, I know, pal. Been there, done that. Remember I almost didn't finish the Science Fair freshman year? Dad nearly killed me," he offered a playful smile. Dad did actually almost kill me, quite literally, he thought silently before continuing. "But anyways, I can help you later, if you need it. But I won't be able to help much--got longer practices since the team hasn't been doin' well. But I'll do the best I can, sport." Mason seemed to lighten up at that, and the scowl disappeared from his smooth face. The two boys continued walking through the woods, shoes scuffling against the ground. David was nervous. Practice would be hell--the big game was coming up in three days.
The first bell rang as the two went on their separate ways. David jammed his hands inside his pockets, making his way through the sea of students. On his way to homeroom, he bumped into a few of his teammates. Jason, Kyle and Leo were laughing and rambling on about stupid stuff David tuned out. He always tuned them out. He was never exactly their friends, but he always found himself hanging around them when he had nothing better to do. All he wanted to do was find Rose, and get the day over with as fast as possible. That was the plan, anyway. As David was shoved into and pushed from behind, he sighed. He wanted to go home, wherever that was. Certainly not the house he grew up in--his father was there. To him, the only home he held onto was where Rose was. Wherever she was, she was his home in his own mind.
Seated in his normal spot, he slid his backpack underneath his desk, running a hand through his hair. Mr. Green, their homeroom teacher, was at his desk sorting through files and piles of papers, searching for something. David's mind was wandering off on its own, worrying about practice that was already doomed. He held his head in his hands, closing his eyes as he waited for Rose.
The blue alarm clock flashed the numbers, an annoyingly loud blaring noise spreading in the room followed by another alarm setting off in the room next to his. 6:00 am, standard time their father wanted them to be up at, despite the fact their father would sleep in until much, much longer than six o'clock, nursing his hangover from the previous night. Mason knew that much, David knew, but Mason didn't know anything beyond that. No one but David and his father did. Not even his best friend since third grade knew, and it was killing him slowly. He had dreamed of the day the secret got spilled out. But he couldn't let that happen. Mason would be punished for it. David knew it because his father had told him over and over since the sixth grade, and it scared him to death knowing what his father was capable of.
Ten minutes. Ten short minutes is the maximum time limit to take a full shower, dry off, and change into appropriate school attire picked out by their father─always solid colored shirts with button up crisp collars, slick jeans without a wrinkle, and plain white socks that reached just below his ankle. Thankfully, both David and Mason had their choice in shoe selection. David wore his Adidas shoes, and Mason wore his Converse sneakers. Haircuts were mandatory once their hair was too long. They couldn't be seen in t-shirts at school, and certainly not in public unless at home or with close friends. Rules were rules, their father had told them over and over. Shirts must be tucked in before leaving the house. Shoes double-knotted. Hair combed, teeth brushed. That was the Rules. Rules would be Rules.
Mason was quiet as the two walked. David had successfully avoided their old man that morning. Backpacks rest on their shoulders, both shirts tucked in. Mason had messed up his hair the moment they walked out of the house, though. David didn't care much if his hair was combed or not. He had sneaked in hair gel the other day ago--he had run out of it for a whole week, and his best friend had teased him the whole time--and he was pretty content with how he appeared. "So, how's the project goin' with William?" he spoke with a lopsided smile, attempting to lighten the mood. Neither of them enjoyed mornings anymore, but Mason particularly hated mornings more so than David. The project Mason had been working on, in Physics, hadn't been going to well. He didn't have to ask to know.
"Freakin' bad. He sits on his ass all day while I do the work. Supposed to have half of it done yesterday--we barely started on it," Mason grumbled, rolling his eyes. David laughed, gently nudging the younger boy.
"I know, I know, pal. Been there, done that. Remember I almost didn't finish the Science Fair freshman year? Dad nearly killed me," he offered a playful smile. Dad did actually almost kill me, quite literally, he thought silently before continuing. "But anyways, I can help you later, if you need it. But I won't be able to help much--got longer practices since the team hasn't been doin' well. But I'll do the best I can, sport." Mason seemed to lighten up at that, and the scowl disappeared from his smooth face. The two boys continued walking through the woods, shoes scuffling against the ground. David was nervous. Practice would be hell--the big game was coming up in three days.
The first bell rang as the two went on their separate ways. David jammed his hands inside his pockets, making his way through the sea of students. On his way to homeroom, he bumped into a few of his teammates. Jason, Kyle and Leo were laughing and rambling on about stupid stuff David tuned out. He always tuned them out. He was never exactly their friends, but he always found himself hanging around them when he had nothing better to do. All he wanted to do was find Rose, and get the day over with as fast as possible. That was the plan, anyway. As David was shoved into and pushed from behind, he sighed. He wanted to go home, wherever that was. Certainly not the house he grew up in--his father was there. To him, the only home he held onto was where Rose was. Wherever she was, she was his home in his own mind.
Seated in his normal spot, he slid his backpack underneath his desk, running a hand through his hair. Mr. Green, their homeroom teacher, was at his desk sorting through files and piles of papers, searching for something. David's mind was wandering off on its own, worrying about practice that was already doomed. He held his head in his hands, closing his eyes as he waited for Rose.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
Rose was beside him. He didn't have to lift his eyes to know she was in the room, and it comforted him whenever she was by his side. He didn't have to be alone anymore, trapped inside his head. "Hey, Rose," he replied with a small smile. "I almost thought you'd be late again." Now that more students have been showing up later and later, announcements have been made that if a student is late to class more than four times every two weeks, they would be given lunch detention, or after-school detention. David since then had learned to get up at 6:00, and not at 6:30 as he normally had done back then. He couldn't risk getting late and getting detention--his father would be called if he did, and he'd be guaranteed to be locked in the basement, waiting for his punishment. He winced at the thought.
David looked at his best friend, seeing the ends of her hair still wet. With an raised eyebrow, he smirked. "Well, looks like someone was running a little late, huh?" he teased, resting his cheek on his right hand propped against the smooth wooden surface of the desk. Normally, Rose wasn't late. Unless, of course, she slept in or had a "bad hair day", as she would phrase it. He never did understand why she would think that, but he didn't openly talk about it, knowing it would only agitate her and the rest of the day would be tense. Not fun, at all. "You sleep in?" He wished he could sleep in. His old man never let him sleep in--not even on the weekends, either. The most he has slept in to was about 7:40 in the morning, and even then his father had been upset with him. Not that he should care--he never hurt him on game day, which falls on weekends, knowing someone would take notice of the bruises and question it, raising suspicion.
Mr. Green let out a long sigh as more students poured in, the level of chatter and laughter slowly, but surely, climbing until all David could hear was senseless talk, mixed in with laughter and snippets of conversations. It was disorienting, reminding him of his first day spent in high school as a scared, confused freshman. Of course, back then, he hadn't really known what to do, where to go or what to expect. He had practically grew up watching movies and TV shows about stereotypical high school life, completely with cliques, bullying and other aspects tweens feared. None of it, it turned out, was true. Not the cliques (except for the jock group, of course), not the bullying (though, fights did occasionally break out between students, but not often). David almost laughed at the thought of being afraid of high school.
High school was a refuge for him, despite most teens' hatred for school. It was the one place he was free of his father, the Rules, and the Beatings. He could be himself without having to worry about what his father would say or think, or do. Rose didn't know this. She didn't know a lot about what went on home, and he found himself hating it. All of it. His father, the Rules, and most of all, himself. He hated himself for not being open with the one true friend he had. He hated himself for being weak enough to allow his father to beat him. And most of all, he hated himself for knowing one day, he'd have to leave the house and leave Mason behind, the same way their mother abandoned them. Shuddering, David pushed these troubling thoughts away, and instead focused on the present and the problems facing him.
Saturday was Game Day. The team wasn't prepared, he knew that much. And it was the last game of the quarter-finals. If the team didn't pull their shit together, they wouldn't make it this year. His father would be beyond pissed. Hell, he'd be drunk as a sailor, and take it out on David. He knew it. He was terrified, too. He needed to motivate the team, somehow, and get their shit together and win the game. Then, at least, they'd make it to the championship games and his father wouldn't be as pissed if they lost. Still, either way, David is screwed. Letting out a sigh, he glanced at the clock hanging over the door. Already dreading practice, he looked away and rested his eyes on Rose, not saying anything more. He didn't need to. She already knew of the upcoming game, and his nervousness. She just didn't know of the consequences if he didn't win.
David looked at his best friend, seeing the ends of her hair still wet. With an raised eyebrow, he smirked. "Well, looks like someone was running a little late, huh?" he teased, resting his cheek on his right hand propped against the smooth wooden surface of the desk. Normally, Rose wasn't late. Unless, of course, she slept in or had a "bad hair day", as she would phrase it. He never did understand why she would think that, but he didn't openly talk about it, knowing it would only agitate her and the rest of the day would be tense. Not fun, at all. "You sleep in?" He wished he could sleep in. His old man never let him sleep in--not even on the weekends, either. The most he has slept in to was about 7:40 in the morning, and even then his father had been upset with him. Not that he should care--he never hurt him on game day, which falls on weekends, knowing someone would take notice of the bruises and question it, raising suspicion.
Mr. Green let out a long sigh as more students poured in, the level of chatter and laughter slowly, but surely, climbing until all David could hear was senseless talk, mixed in with laughter and snippets of conversations. It was disorienting, reminding him of his first day spent in high school as a scared, confused freshman. Of course, back then, he hadn't really known what to do, where to go or what to expect. He had practically grew up watching movies and TV shows about stereotypical high school life, completely with cliques, bullying and other aspects tweens feared. None of it, it turned out, was true. Not the cliques (except for the jock group, of course), not the bullying (though, fights did occasionally break out between students, but not often). David almost laughed at the thought of being afraid of high school.
High school was a refuge for him, despite most teens' hatred for school. It was the one place he was free of his father, the Rules, and the Beatings. He could be himself without having to worry about what his father would say or think, or do. Rose didn't know this. She didn't know a lot about what went on home, and he found himself hating it. All of it. His father, the Rules, and most of all, himself. He hated himself for not being open with the one true friend he had. He hated himself for being weak enough to allow his father to beat him. And most of all, he hated himself for knowing one day, he'd have to leave the house and leave Mason behind, the same way their mother abandoned them. Shuddering, David pushed these troubling thoughts away, and instead focused on the present and the problems facing him.
Saturday was Game Day. The team wasn't prepared, he knew that much. And it was the last game of the quarter-finals. If the team didn't pull their shit together, they wouldn't make it this year. His father would be beyond pissed. Hell, he'd be drunk as a sailor, and take it out on David. He knew it. He was terrified, too. He needed to motivate the team, somehow, and get their shit together and win the game. Then, at least, they'd make it to the championship games and his father wouldn't be as pissed if they lost. Still, either way, David is screwed. Letting out a sigh, he glanced at the clock hanging over the door. Already dreading practice, he looked away and rested his eyes on Rose, not saying anything more. He didn't need to. She already knew of the upcoming game, and his nervousness. She just didn't know of the consequences if he didn't win.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David felt himself drifting away in thought. He wondered what Mason was doing in that moment, and how he was doing. Early, Mason had complained of a guy giving him a hard time in PE. Still didn't catch his name, but once he did... there would be hell to pay. During his freshman year, he had never had a particularly hard time with anyone, but David is determined to make sure no one messes with him, or his younger brother. Hell no. As long as he's here, he'd make sure his little brother was safe and sound--from both people at school, and their father. Though, he had never had to deal with his father, so long as he keeps their little promise not to let a peep to anyone. Not even to his best friend, the only friend he really had.
"Okay, okay," he grinned, his hands held up in playful surrender. He wished he could have good dreams--he never did, though. They were always filled with images of his father, drunk and angry, yelling at him, kicking him. And those weren't the worst. The nightmares that made him get out of bed at three in the morning were the ones that made David watch from a distance as his younger brother, Mason, was beaten by his father until he was nothing more than a small curled up ball, limp and motionless. And there was nothing he could it. It often left David jump awake in a cold sweat, gripping the bed sheets. Even now, just thinking about the dreams, made him tense. "I'll let you do that, then." He wished he could nap, too.
"Just don't get mad when you're sent to detention," he teased with a small smile. Normally, Mr. Green didn't give a shit if his students were asleep--hell, he wouldn't care if the whole freakin' class was high on drugs, or something. And everyone knew it, including the principle. David just guessed the principle either had dirt on him that Mr. Green knew of, or he was simply too lazy to get rid of the lousy teacher. Either way, no one really cared. Mr. Green was pretty great, since he let everyone do anything they wanted so long they didn't disturb him. He couldn't really blame the guy--most times, he wanted everyone (except Rose, of course) to leave him the hell alone. Mostly his dad, though, but whatever.
David glanced at her boyfriend, Nathan, as he made some poor kid move out of his seat. He was really tempted to tell the jerk off, but he didn't. Not when Rose is around. The two guys had never liked each other, even before Nathan started dating David's best friend. The two simply didn't get alone--the guy had wanted to be captain of the football team, but David was already captain. The two often got into arguments during practice about strategy and such, but never heated enough to turn into a physical fight, yet. He glanced up at the time, suddenly impatient. He needed to get out of his classroom before this guy pissed him off. Like, now.
"So, Rose, you willing to save me from failing math? I kinda fell asleep in class yesterday and I need to catch up," he said sheepishly, laughing. It was true. He hadn't slept that night, at all, and had fallen asleep in Mr. Collin's classroom. Sent to lunch detention, too. Not that David really cared, so long as his father didn't find out. And so far, it appears that his father doesn't even have the slightest clue, though he's still on edge, half-expecting one day after school to lock him in the basement, and give out a belting. Who knows, he might still do that later today, or after the big game. He only have one way of finding out, and it slowly killed him--waiting and waiting was the game, it seemed.
"Okay, okay," he grinned, his hands held up in playful surrender. He wished he could have good dreams--he never did, though. They were always filled with images of his father, drunk and angry, yelling at him, kicking him. And those weren't the worst. The nightmares that made him get out of bed at three in the morning were the ones that made David watch from a distance as his younger brother, Mason, was beaten by his father until he was nothing more than a small curled up ball, limp and motionless. And there was nothing he could it. It often left David jump awake in a cold sweat, gripping the bed sheets. Even now, just thinking about the dreams, made him tense. "I'll let you do that, then." He wished he could nap, too.
"Just don't get mad when you're sent to detention," he teased with a small smile. Normally, Mr. Green didn't give a shit if his students were asleep--hell, he wouldn't care if the whole freakin' class was high on drugs, or something. And everyone knew it, including the principle. David just guessed the principle either had dirt on him that Mr. Green knew of, or he was simply too lazy to get rid of the lousy teacher. Either way, no one really cared. Mr. Green was pretty great, since he let everyone do anything they wanted so long they didn't disturb him. He couldn't really blame the guy--most times, he wanted everyone (except Rose, of course) to leave him the hell alone. Mostly his dad, though, but whatever.
David glanced at her boyfriend, Nathan, as he made some poor kid move out of his seat. He was really tempted to tell the jerk off, but he didn't. Not when Rose is around. The two guys had never liked each other, even before Nathan started dating David's best friend. The two simply didn't get alone--the guy had wanted to be captain of the football team, but David was already captain. The two often got into arguments during practice about strategy and such, but never heated enough to turn into a physical fight, yet. He glanced up at the time, suddenly impatient. He needed to get out of his classroom before this guy pissed him off. Like, now.
"So, Rose, you willing to save me from failing math? I kinda fell asleep in class yesterday and I need to catch up," he said sheepishly, laughing. It was true. He hadn't slept that night, at all, and had fallen asleep in Mr. Collin's classroom. Sent to lunch detention, too. Not that David really cared, so long as his father didn't find out. And so far, it appears that his father doesn't even have the slightest clue, though he's still on edge, half-expecting one day after school to lock him in the basement, and give out a belting. Who knows, he might still do that later today, or after the big game. He only have one way of finding out, and it slowly killed him--waiting and waiting was the game, it seemed.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Point taken." David found himself smiling, somewhat amused at her sarcasm. Somehow, she always gave him a reason to laugh or smile from day to day, despite what happens during the lonely hours of the night spent in the Basement, with nothing more than an air mattress that reeked and an old wooden door with far too many scratches to keep him company. Maybe it was the fact that they were best friends, and they knew everything about each other--well, not everything now that he thought about it--and she knew what he was feeling without him even having to say anything. Maybe it was the fact knowing that, despite everything, it would all turn it to be okay. It always did, in the end. But first, he'd have to go through the pain of figuring out where to go, what to do about his father, and who to run to.
Math hated him. He hated math. It was a mutual hate-relationship, really. No matter the amount of hours spent in mandatory tutoring with Collins, no matter the silent nights spent studying his ass off, none of it helped. He simply wasn't cut out for math--he was sure of it, by now, that nothing can change that, no matter how much effort he pockets in, no matter how much sleep he loses because of it. His father didn't know much about the tutoring or his late night studies. All his father cared about was whether or not he was passing with a minimum grade of a B. Anything lower than a B, punishment would be rewarded; a night in the Basement, and a whole lot more time spent beaten, resulting in bruises that would go on for days. The longest the bruises had ever lasted was a full week. Mason never noticed. No one ever did. If they did, they never said anything.
"I know, I'm guilty as charged, Miss Rose," he paused, taking a breath as he glanced up at the clock once more. "Though, in my defense Miss Rose, I have been diagnosed with a severe case of insomnia, and spend my nights restless with my thoughts as company." If she pushed aside the sarcasm, he knew that she'd know it was the truth. A sliver of the whole truth, but still the truth--she just didn't know he spent, sometimes, the nights in the Basement, covered in bruises, awaiting for more to come. David had a difficult time keeping his mouth shut, the more he thought of his father, the Basement, and the Rules. She knew somewhat of the Rules, but she just didn't know of the punishments. It seemed she knew only part of the truth, and never the rest of it. And it's slowly killing him on the inside, not being able to open up to the only true friend he has.
"To be fair, Collins has the kind of voice that makes you wanna sleep. I know I'm not the only one that thinks this--other people have fallen asleep in his class, too, so you can't single me out, Miss Rose," he gave her a lopsided smile, running his hands against the smooth surface of the desk, thinking and thinking. He can never stop thinking, just like he can never be good at math.
Math hated him. He hated math. It was a mutual hate-relationship, really. No matter the amount of hours spent in mandatory tutoring with Collins, no matter the silent nights spent studying his ass off, none of it helped. He simply wasn't cut out for math--he was sure of it, by now, that nothing can change that, no matter how much effort he pockets in, no matter how much sleep he loses because of it. His father didn't know much about the tutoring or his late night studies. All his father cared about was whether or not he was passing with a minimum grade of a B. Anything lower than a B, punishment would be rewarded; a night in the Basement, and a whole lot more time spent beaten, resulting in bruises that would go on for days. The longest the bruises had ever lasted was a full week. Mason never noticed. No one ever did. If they did, they never said anything.
"I know, I'm guilty as charged, Miss Rose," he paused, taking a breath as he glanced up at the clock once more. "Though, in my defense Miss Rose, I have been diagnosed with a severe case of insomnia, and spend my nights restless with my thoughts as company." If she pushed aside the sarcasm, he knew that she'd know it was the truth. A sliver of the whole truth, but still the truth--she just didn't know he spent, sometimes, the nights in the Basement, covered in bruises, awaiting for more to come. David had a difficult time keeping his mouth shut, the more he thought of his father, the Basement, and the Rules. She knew somewhat of the Rules, but she just didn't know of the punishments. It seemed she knew only part of the truth, and never the rest of it. And it's slowly killing him on the inside, not being able to open up to the only true friend he has.
"To be fair, Collins has the kind of voice that makes you wanna sleep. I know I'm not the only one that thinks this--other people have fallen asleep in his class, too, so you can't single me out, Miss Rose," he gave her a lopsided smile, running his hands against the smooth surface of the desk, thinking and thinking. He can never stop thinking, just like he can never be good at math.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Thank you, ma'am," David gave a mock salute, and attempted to understand the notes. Big mistake. Attempting to understand something he didn't understand often gave him headaches. Math, to put simply, did not mix well with the rest of his brain. Despite his average GPA of 3.5 or higher, he never believed he was talented in academics. Not like Rose, anyway. She was gifted with math, along with a load of other subjects he found himself struggling the most with--English, math and social studies. Some days, he felt he was only ever good at sports, and PE. As if he was born for it. And he was, in a way. His mother had told him, before she left, that he was born to do something special. Though he wasn't entirely sure if it was special, he knew he was talented in the sport of football. "I'm afraid that's a bit much to ask, Miss Erway. But I'll do my best."
Looking down at the notes, the example problems and formulas, he felt his head spin in a thousand circles. "Sweet baby Jesus," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his sarcasm long gone as his mouth set into a thin line as he frowned. Now he'd never be able to catch up--not with practice and the big Game coming up. He prayed to God that Collins would be graceful and merciful (both highly unlikely) to not give the class a pop quiz that week. Still, a guy could dream. More like pray, but whatever, same difference in his own mind. The letters and numbers were a blur to him in the book, like they always were. Confused and a bit lost, his eyes skimmed through the notes, hoping to somehow piece them together and understand the formulas and example problems. No such luck.
"Alright, sarg, you're the boss," he offered a weak smile, trying his best to focus. "Just pray like hell is below you that Collins won't give out a pop quiz. My old man will murder me in my sleep if I fail this class." Not exactly literal, but close enough. His old man wouldn't murder him, no. But just enough to keep him weak enough to continue beating him, lock him in the Basement, and go through it again. It was an endless cycle. His throat tightened suddenly, and he couldn't breathe. His heart pounded. He couldn't fail--David was determined to not fail. Just one more semester. One more semester, and he'd be free. But the thought popped in the back of his mind--what would happen to Mason? Not wanting to answer the silent question, he poured himself into listening to Rose explain.
Looking down at the notes, the example problems and formulas, he felt his head spin in a thousand circles. "Sweet baby Jesus," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his sarcasm long gone as his mouth set into a thin line as he frowned. Now he'd never be able to catch up--not with practice and the big Game coming up. He prayed to God that Collins would be graceful and merciful (both highly unlikely) to not give the class a pop quiz that week. Still, a guy could dream. More like pray, but whatever, same difference in his own mind. The letters and numbers were a blur to him in the book, like they always were. Confused and a bit lost, his eyes skimmed through the notes, hoping to somehow piece them together and understand the formulas and example problems. No such luck.
"Alright, sarg, you're the boss," he offered a weak smile, trying his best to focus. "Just pray like hell is below you that Collins won't give out a pop quiz. My old man will murder me in my sleep if I fail this class." Not exactly literal, but close enough. His old man wouldn't murder him, no. But just enough to keep him weak enough to continue beating him, lock him in the Basement, and go through it again. It was an endless cycle. His throat tightened suddenly, and he couldn't breathe. His heart pounded. He couldn't fail--David was determined to not fail. Just one more semester. One more semester, and he'd be free. But the thought popped in the back of his mind--what would happen to Mason? Not wanting to answer the silent question, he poured himself into listening to Rose explain.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
The tone between them had gone from sarcastic playfulness to dead serious. Simply amazing, how quickly things can change within a few given moments. David had experienced it first hand. Having gone from a happy, whole family to a broken, dysfunctional family, he should have been used to this. But that is the thing. He isn't--probably never will, for all he knows. Though, now being a few years older and wiser, he's over his mother. Sure, the mixed feelings and constant dreams of seeing her were still there to haunt him. Sure, he missed her from time to time. But he didn't need her, anymore. He wanted her, but he no longer needed her. He needed two people in this world. Mason, and Rose. None more, none less.
Rose offered to complete his homework assignment. Forty problems in all, work must be shown. Hesitation filled him before anything else. Then came his best pal, Doubt. He hated Doubt the most out of them all. Doubt always led to fear, which led to restlessness, which would in the end lead to troubled thoughts, and even more fear. An endless cycle of torture was a suited name, in his own mind. A cycle that had his mind spinning and spinning, round and round all day, all night, never giving him a chance to catch his breath or clear his head. He wondered if she ever felt it, too. Probably did. Maybe not. He had no way of knowing unless she said anything.
"Rose..." he paused, collecting his wandering thoughts. "I am thinking about it." The more he thought about it, the more he felt less sure of it all. What if, somehow, Collins found out? Would he contact his father? What would happen then? Letting out a frustrated sigh, he shoved his aggravating thoughts out of his mind. He over-thinks too often, and he knew that she knew that. "Okay, okay, you're right. Damn. You're always right. But just for this once, alright? I'll make it up for you. I promise." David didn't have to ask, either. The two always headed to Freddy's Pizzeria on Fridays, but this time it would be on him.
And on went the class.
Rose offered to complete his homework assignment. Forty problems in all, work must be shown. Hesitation filled him before anything else. Then came his best pal, Doubt. He hated Doubt the most out of them all. Doubt always led to fear, which led to restlessness, which would in the end lead to troubled thoughts, and even more fear. An endless cycle of torture was a suited name, in his own mind. A cycle that had his mind spinning and spinning, round and round all day, all night, never giving him a chance to catch his breath or clear his head. He wondered if she ever felt it, too. Probably did. Maybe not. He had no way of knowing unless she said anything.
"Rose..." he paused, collecting his wandering thoughts. "I am thinking about it." The more he thought about it, the more he felt less sure of it all. What if, somehow, Collins found out? Would he contact his father? What would happen then? Letting out a frustrated sigh, he shoved his aggravating thoughts out of his mind. He over-thinks too often, and he knew that she knew that. "Okay, okay, you're right. Damn. You're always right. But just for this once, alright? I'll make it up for you. I promise." David didn't have to ask, either. The two always headed to Freddy's Pizzeria on Fridays, but this time it would be on him.
And on went the class.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
Rose knew how to comfort him when he's in the midst of a crisis, that was for sure. David didn't have any doubt that despite what would happen, she would be there for him. But what would happen when she found out? Would she still be the supporting friend that he had come to know? Or would she run away and flee, like his mother? He almost didn't want to quite find out--he wouldn't be able to handle another loss. Then his thoughts trailed farther and farther. Would his younger brother, Mason, turn and flee, too? What would there be left to live for?
The quick kiss on his cheek brought him back to reality. He felt himself relax, the worry slowly fading away, but still lurking and waiting for another time to pop up, unexpected. Sleep stilled his bones, making him want to close his eyes... just for a minute. He didn't, just to prove her wrong about the whole "napping" topic. David spaced out somewhere between class, occasionally chatting with Rose, and occasionally struggling to keep his eyes open. Just occasionally. He wanted to go home. Wherever that is, anyway.
David's home didn't feel... well, like home. Sure, it was a structure to keep him safe from the frequent rains. Sure, it was the place he slept in, ate in, and shit in. But it wasn't much of a home to him when Mason was gone. Mason made it better, if possible. Maybe that's one of the reasons why he hasn't run away, or moved out. He had thought of running away before. But he could never bring himself to leave poor Mason to fend for himself against his father, or leave his best-friend-since-3rd-grade. He just could never do it.
So, he decided the house wasn't his home. His home was both Mason, and Rose. Wherever they were, in whatever condition they were, they were the two anchors that kept him here, in this small town with his asshole for a father that established the Rules when he was in seventh grade. Someday, he would get out of the house with Mason. He would show Mason what a real home would be; a home in which no one had to be afraid to go in. Hell no. His dad could kiss their asses goodbye when that day comes. They would be free.
"Alright, you're the expert," David playfully kicked her shoe with his own shoe. He felt free, here, with her.
The quick kiss on his cheek brought him back to reality. He felt himself relax, the worry slowly fading away, but still lurking and waiting for another time to pop up, unexpected. Sleep stilled his bones, making him want to close his eyes... just for a minute. He didn't, just to prove her wrong about the whole "napping" topic. David spaced out somewhere between class, occasionally chatting with Rose, and occasionally struggling to keep his eyes open. Just occasionally. He wanted to go home. Wherever that is, anyway.
David's home didn't feel... well, like home. Sure, it was a structure to keep him safe from the frequent rains. Sure, it was the place he slept in, ate in, and shit in. But it wasn't much of a home to him when Mason was gone. Mason made it better, if possible. Maybe that's one of the reasons why he hasn't run away, or moved out. He had thought of running away before. But he could never bring himself to leave poor Mason to fend for himself against his father, or leave his best-friend-since-3rd-grade. He just could never do it.
So, he decided the house wasn't his home. His home was both Mason, and Rose. Wherever they were, in whatever condition they were, they were the two anchors that kept him here, in this small town with his asshole for a father that established the Rules when he was in seventh grade. Someday, he would get out of the house with Mason. He would show Mason what a real home would be; a home in which no one had to be afraid to go in. Hell no. His dad could kiss their asses goodbye when that day comes. They would be free.
"Alright, you're the expert," David playfully kicked her shoe with his own shoe. He felt free, here, with her.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"I'm alright." David was fine. He's been better, of course, but there isn't much he can do when the Game is looming over his shoulder at every waking moment--then again, it could always be worse. At least, that's what he tells himself every time something isn't going well, but it was the truth. The truth. Did she always tell him the complete, whole truth? Or did she have things, small or large, she kept from him like he did? He may as well at least try his best to keep calm. It wasn't healthy to be worrying so much, as she told him before.
As her eyes crinkled with the grin, he found himself smiling back involuntarily. He couldn't help it, really. Everything about her was contagious; her smile, her laugh, all of it. When she is down, he finds himself gloomy. When she's happy, despite his current mood, he finds himself laughing along. She just had that effect on him, and he couldn't explain it. Maybe it was just apart of a best-friend thing. He doesn't really know. But whatever it is, he doesn't want it to ever stop. She was home. Mason is home, too. Rose and Mason.
"Well, I don't really know, honestly," he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit, and glanced at her as he spoke. "I mean, I could be better. I kind of already feel like we've lost the Game, you know? That's what the whole team feels, and when I try to tell them that we just might have a shot, they shoot me down and it sucks. Maybe being optimistic isn't such a great thing when everyone around you isn't." He sighed, averting his eyes away from her. That wasn't the only thing on his mind. But she didn't need to know that. She couldn't. Not when Mason is in the safety of David--it was the only way to make sure his younger brother, his only family left really, is safe. "What about you?"
As her eyes crinkled with the grin, he found himself smiling back involuntarily. He couldn't help it, really. Everything about her was contagious; her smile, her laugh, all of it. When she is down, he finds himself gloomy. When she's happy, despite his current mood, he finds himself laughing along. She just had that effect on him, and he couldn't explain it. Maybe it was just apart of a best-friend thing. He doesn't really know. But whatever it is, he doesn't want it to ever stop. She was home. Mason is home, too. Rose and Mason.
"Well, I don't really know, honestly," he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit, and glanced at her as he spoke. "I mean, I could be better. I kind of already feel like we've lost the Game, you know? That's what the whole team feels, and when I try to tell them that we just might have a shot, they shoot me down and it sucks. Maybe being optimistic isn't such a great thing when everyone around you isn't." He sighed, averting his eyes away from her. That wasn't the only thing on his mind. But she didn't need to know that. She couldn't. Not when Mason is in the safety of David--it was the only way to make sure his younger brother, his only family left really, is safe. "What about you?"
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
The green lockers were rusting, the pain slowly peeling away, revealing the cheap metal underneath. He estimated the lockers were just about as old as the school, which was just about old as the town. Crazy. When was the last time anyone replaced the lockers? The things barely shut as it was. Despite the rule of keeping phones in the locker, no one did it. It was too risky leaving a one hundred (sometimes two hundred, but whatever) dollar phone in a rusty locker, flimsy enough that anyone could walk up to it and open it, padlock or not. It was stupid, but David let it slide.
"I hope so," he shrugged. He still wasn't too sure, but he tried his best not to already give up and feel defeated before the actual game starts. That's just plain stupid, in his own mind. "Yeah, I think everyone is a bit fucked up in the head, but that's okay. Means less homework for us, right?" he offered a lopsided smile, shoving a few books inside the locker. The teachers were like that. When they see everyone is burnt out, or just not thinking straight, they tend to give less homework, knowing most students wouldn't have the energy to do as much, if any at all.
Shutting the locker (not really--the stupid latch never clicked), he turned to face her. With an eyebrow raised, he kept smiling. "You sure there isn't something you wanna tell me?" He already felt guilty as soon as the words left his lips, knowing there was so, so much he left out when talking to her. Sure, he'd talk just a bit about his father, but never enough to let on to what actually happened. Just bits and pieces, it seemed. So who is he to pry information out of her? Guilt made him want to crawl into a hole to die.
"I hope so," he shrugged. He still wasn't too sure, but he tried his best not to already give up and feel defeated before the actual game starts. That's just plain stupid, in his own mind. "Yeah, I think everyone is a bit fucked up in the head, but that's okay. Means less homework for us, right?" he offered a lopsided smile, shoving a few books inside the locker. The teachers were like that. When they see everyone is burnt out, or just not thinking straight, they tend to give less homework, knowing most students wouldn't have the energy to do as much, if any at all.
Shutting the locker (not really--the stupid latch never clicked), he turned to face her. With an eyebrow raised, he kept smiling. "You sure there isn't something you wanna tell me?" He already felt guilty as soon as the words left his lips, knowing there was so, so much he left out when talking to her. Sure, he'd talk just a bit about his father, but never enough to let on to what actually happened. Just bits and pieces, it seemed. So who is he to pry information out of her? Guilt made him want to crawl into a hole to die.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Alright then." End of discussion, for now. Later he could bug her, maybe. No. He couldn't do that. He'd just be a hypocrite, really, as he thought about going through with it. David couldn't bring himself to do it--she'd tell him whatever it was when she was ready. Would he ever be ready to tell her, though? Probably not. There was too much at risk for both Mason and himself. She would never know, and he'd go on with his life. That was the plan. Mason would be spared from their father, and life would go on, with no more guilt. The last part was a lie, of course.
Guilt had a funny way of making its way into his dreams. If he had a quarter every time he dreamed of his father pouncing on Mason while all he could do was watch, David would be rich. Filthy rich. It was always the same dream, oddly, that made him gasp for air as if he was a dying fish in the middle of the night, or in the early hours of the morning. Most times, he'd pace in his room shortly after waking, or sneak out to take a small walk around the neighborhood. He could never bring himself to text Rose when he was restless, though.
"Have fun, Rose. Talk to you at lunch." And she was gone. Just like that. It was amazing, he thought, how quickly a person can disappear out of his life. It was terrifying; his mother had disappeared out of his life just like that, too. But Rose wouldn't do that to him, right? Right. She wouldn't even dream of it. Ever. He'd like to think she wouldn't even leave him for her boyfriend, though he couldn't be too sure at times. Who knows. What if she didn't even remotely like the guy? After all, the guy is an asshole. And everyone knew it, including Coach.
PE flew by, as always. It was too easy for David, at times. He wished they would move on to some sport he wasn't particular familiar with, such as hockey or trackball. Oh well. He didn't really have a say in what Coach taught anyway, so his wishful thinking was pointless. As usual.
Guilt had a funny way of making its way into his dreams. If he had a quarter every time he dreamed of his father pouncing on Mason while all he could do was watch, David would be rich. Filthy rich. It was always the same dream, oddly, that made him gasp for air as if he was a dying fish in the middle of the night, or in the early hours of the morning. Most times, he'd pace in his room shortly after waking, or sneak out to take a small walk around the neighborhood. He could never bring himself to text Rose when he was restless, though.
"Have fun, Rose. Talk to you at lunch." And she was gone. Just like that. It was amazing, he thought, how quickly a person can disappear out of his life. It was terrifying; his mother had disappeared out of his life just like that, too. But Rose wouldn't do that to him, right? Right. She wouldn't even dream of it. Ever. He'd like to think she wouldn't even leave him for her boyfriend, though he couldn't be too sure at times. Who knows. What if she didn't even remotely like the guy? After all, the guy is an asshole. And everyone knew it, including Coach.
PE flew by, as always. It was too easy for David, at times. He wished they would move on to some sport he wasn't particular familiar with, such as hockey or trackball. Oh well. He didn't really have a say in what Coach taught anyway, so his wishful thinking was pointless. As usual.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Haul your ass faster, McAllister! Jenkins, stop your whining and start running!" Coach hollered, just as loud though at a distance, presumably holding a stop watch, metal whistle hanging from his mouth. David felt like he was floating as he ran, as if he was watching from afar. He didn't like calling Coach his father, because that's exactly what he was. Just a Coach. Not a loving, gentle father that told his son he was proud of him after doing his best on a math quiz. Nope. Definitely not him. He was just Coach to David. Not that anyone knew that, though.
Despite being naturally good at sports, he hated PE. He could never fully escape his father anymore, now that he taught PE for the high school. School had been his safe haven, safe from the beatings, the Rules. All of it. But now, even that is taken from him with the simplicity of his father's presence. And it pissed him off to the point he wanted to smack his father, right on the jaw. He wanted to scream at him until he couldn't scream anymore. But he couldn't. So he kept running until he couldn't feel his legs anymore. Sometimes, numb was better than hurting.
"I heard Coach was seen at the bar. You think it's bullshit, or true?"
"Naw, Coach may be an asshole, but I don't think he'd be a drunk."
"I don't know. Maybe. I wonder how David handles being around him at home."
The guys in the locker room laugh, probably shoving and knocking into each other. They probably didn't know David was there, changing with the rest of them. He didn't really care. Hell, he agreed with the guys most of the time. Coach is an asshole, and Coach was at the bar. Those two statements are true as the fact Ryan Jenkins sucks at keeping his mouth shut. David let out a sigh as he finally got changed--still the fastest in the class--and stuffed his gym clothing in the locker. The bell rang.
As David made his way to his locker, his mind couldn't stop spinning. His heart was pounding inside his rib cage, and it hurt. Everything hurt suddenly. Maybe it was the fact he didn't get any sleep. Maybe he was dehydrated. Either way, he didn't really care. All that mattered right now was that somebody had seen Coach in the bar. Would they somehow find out the truth? The truth that Coach beats on his son while staggeringly drunk? He prayed to God that that wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. Not yet.
He saw Rose before she saw him. He let the troubling thoughts blow off, for now. "How'd art go?" he asked curiously, chewing his lower lip, another nervous habit of his. God, he had so many habits. And none of them were good for him. Oh well. He didn't care, either.
Despite being naturally good at sports, he hated PE. He could never fully escape his father anymore, now that he taught PE for the high school. School had been his safe haven, safe from the beatings, the Rules. All of it. But now, even that is taken from him with the simplicity of his father's presence. And it pissed him off to the point he wanted to smack his father, right on the jaw. He wanted to scream at him until he couldn't scream anymore. But he couldn't. So he kept running until he couldn't feel his legs anymore. Sometimes, numb was better than hurting.
"I heard Coach was seen at the bar. You think it's bullshit, or true?"
"Naw, Coach may be an asshole, but I don't think he'd be a drunk."
"I don't know. Maybe. I wonder how David handles being around him at home."
The guys in the locker room laugh, probably shoving and knocking into each other. They probably didn't know David was there, changing with the rest of them. He didn't really care. Hell, he agreed with the guys most of the time. Coach is an asshole, and Coach was at the bar. Those two statements are true as the fact Ryan Jenkins sucks at keeping his mouth shut. David let out a sigh as he finally got changed--still the fastest in the class--and stuffed his gym clothing in the locker. The bell rang.
As David made his way to his locker, his mind couldn't stop spinning. His heart was pounding inside his rib cage, and it hurt. Everything hurt suddenly. Maybe it was the fact he didn't get any sleep. Maybe he was dehydrated. Either way, he didn't really care. All that mattered right now was that somebody had seen Coach in the bar. Would they somehow find out the truth? The truth that Coach beats on his son while staggeringly drunk? He prayed to God that that wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. Not yet.
He saw Rose before she saw him. He let the troubling thoughts blow off, for now. "How'd art go?" he asked curiously, chewing his lower lip, another nervous habit of his. God, he had so many habits. And none of them were good for him. Oh well. He didn't care, either.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
His locker was a mess, as always. Tattered books lay inside, along with balls of paper torn, a few extra pencils and pens, notebooks, and his change of clothes for P.E. He needs to clean out his locker sometime, and soon. David glanced at her with a small, lightweight shrug. Personally, he hated PE now that his father was instructing, but he did enjoy the sport aspect to it. He didn't so much care for his class--he didn't know any of them well--but hey, it could have been worse. That's what he tells himself, anyway.
"It was alright, I guess," he finally said, looking at her as he shut the locker. "I mean, it's as good as it can get when your own dad is the Coach, but you know, whatever. Sometimes I wish I can ditch school for the whole day. Just one day." It was true. A whole day without having to deal with the bullshit or his father sounded just like heaven. Too good to be true. Wishful thinking, that was what it was. Wishful thinking wasn't good--it was pointless, useless. Maybe he really is naive, and hoping for the best is just childish at this point. Either way, he didn't care enough.
Throughout the hallway, chatter fills with laughter, small talk and a few shouts. More of the usual. Leaning against the locker, he quickly rolled down the sleeves, silently cursing. How could he have forgotten to roll down his sleeves? He's been doing it since sixth grade, and he only know spaces out about it? Jesus Christ. He bit his tongue harshly until it bled. Another bad habit. Whatever. David sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cool air push past him. He wanted to go home, but then he realized his home was standing right in front of him. He smiled.
"It was alright, I guess," he finally said, looking at her as he shut the locker. "I mean, it's as good as it can get when your own dad is the Coach, but you know, whatever. Sometimes I wish I can ditch school for the whole day. Just one day." It was true. A whole day without having to deal with the bullshit or his father sounded just like heaven. Too good to be true. Wishful thinking, that was what it was. Wishful thinking wasn't good--it was pointless, useless. Maybe he really is naive, and hoping for the best is just childish at this point. Either way, he didn't care enough.
Throughout the hallway, chatter fills with laughter, small talk and a few shouts. More of the usual. Leaning against the locker, he quickly rolled down the sleeves, silently cursing. How could he have forgotten to roll down his sleeves? He's been doing it since sixth grade, and he only know spaces out about it? Jesus Christ. He bit his tongue harshly until it bled. Another bad habit. Whatever. David sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cool air push past him. He wanted to go home, but then he realized his home was standing right in front of him. He smiled.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David felt his shoulder burn against the locker as he leaned. He hated bruises. For a few seconds, his heart pounded inside his chest--did she see them? Though he was pretty certain she didn't see the bruises, he had no way of knowing. At times, she is pretty good a masking things, just like he was. Hell, he has to mask a lot when around her, now that he thought about it. But it's always been this way, ever since sixth grade. He just had convinced her that he hated t-shirts, and preferred long sleeve shirts. None of it is true.
Laughing a bit, he shook his head. "Hell no, he doesn't," he mumbled. "Treats me like any other kid. I guess its better than treating me unfairly, though, cause then everyone would hate me. But still, he's one hell of a Coach. Makes us run like the devil himself is chasing us, I swear." David shrugged again, not wanting to exactly talk about Coach. He hated talking about his home life, simply. She just never knew why. David felt himself want to collapse, never wake up again. Maybe it would be better for everyone.
He let out a long sigh, fiddling with the ends of his sleeve. He really didn't want to go to math, even though she'd be there right beside him. Math was the last thing in life he wanted to do. If it hadn't been for his father's threats, he would have easily slacked off in class and not even give a flying shit if he passed or not. But no, he couldn't. He had to do his best and try to pass, knowing what would happen if he didn't. Mason wouldn't be hurt if he failed, but he would. Just like in his freshman year. His father had torn him up so much that he had to stay home "sick". Rose never knew, David thought. He hoped she didn't.
Laughing a bit, he shook his head. "Hell no, he doesn't," he mumbled. "Treats me like any other kid. I guess its better than treating me unfairly, though, cause then everyone would hate me. But still, he's one hell of a Coach. Makes us run like the devil himself is chasing us, I swear." David shrugged again, not wanting to exactly talk about Coach. He hated talking about his home life, simply. She just never knew why. David felt himself want to collapse, never wake up again. Maybe it would be better for everyone.
He let out a long sigh, fiddling with the ends of his sleeve. He really didn't want to go to math, even though she'd be there right beside him. Math was the last thing in life he wanted to do. If it hadn't been for his father's threats, he would have easily slacked off in class and not even give a flying shit if he passed or not. But no, he couldn't. He had to do his best and try to pass, knowing what would happen if he didn't. Mason wouldn't be hurt if he failed, but he would. Just like in his freshman year. His father had torn him up so much that he had to stay home "sick". Rose never knew, David thought. He hoped she didn't.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David dropped his hand to the side as he noticed Rose noticing him playing with the sleeve, now wrinkled and a bit dirty looking. Not much he can really do about it now, but even so, he attempted to straighten the wrinkles out to no success. With a defeated sigh, he gave up on trying to make the sleeve look semi-normal, and instead focused on mentally preparing himself for his dreaded math class. Every ounce in him hated it, though he was thankful he had Rose in the same period to help him (and distract him, sometimes).
"Holy shit," he laughed till his face was red, grinning at her. "That must have sucked. Jesus Christ. I'm so glad I didn't have to go through that. I would never be able to look him in the eye the same." Not that he ever looked Coach in the eye anyway, but that didn't matter. David held the pre-calculus textbook in both arms (it was massive and heavy as hell), watching as she grabbed an identical textbook from her locker. He felt better knowing he wasn't the only one with a messy locker.
Her hand felt warm, as always. Though the two were best friends, they always seemed to be holding hands. Her boyfriend, so far, hasn't said anything about it, but he assumed he hadn't said anything only because he hadn't seen the two holding hands just yet. David is certain her boyfriend would be a little pissed and skeptical once he did see them, but whatever. He'd honestly tell the guy they were best friends. And just that. It wasn't a lie, too, so what would be the harm? David smiled at her, swinging her arm as they walked down the hallway, heading towards the math classroom. "May as well. Don't expect me to stay awake through the whole class, though."
"Holy shit," he laughed till his face was red, grinning at her. "That must have sucked. Jesus Christ. I'm so glad I didn't have to go through that. I would never be able to look him in the eye the same." Not that he ever looked Coach in the eye anyway, but that didn't matter. David held the pre-calculus textbook in both arms (it was massive and heavy as hell), watching as she grabbed an identical textbook from her locker. He felt better knowing he wasn't the only one with a messy locker.
Her hand felt warm, as always. Though the two were best friends, they always seemed to be holding hands. Her boyfriend, so far, hasn't said anything about it, but he assumed he hadn't said anything only because he hadn't seen the two holding hands just yet. David is certain her boyfriend would be a little pissed and skeptical once he did see them, but whatever. He'd honestly tell the guy they were best friends. And just that. It wasn't a lie, too, so what would be the harm? David smiled at her, swinging her arm as they walked down the hallway, heading towards the math classroom. "May as well. Don't expect me to stay awake through the whole class, though."
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Yes ma'am," he gave a mock salute, followed by a half-grin, and continued walking through the hallway. Walking was an exaggeration, of course. He may as well be crawling at the pace they were going--the people in front of them blocked the whole hallway, and they were slower than a grandpa drunk on vodka, he swore. David tried to not let it get on his nerves too much. Their pre-calculus classroom was on the other side of the building, and they only had about four minutes in between classes. They both had unspokenly agreed it was bullshit, having to travel from one side of the school to the other, along with the "traffic" in the halls, in four minutes or less.
Some freshman rammed into him from behind with a high pitched squeal, right into his lower back. He swore loudly, wincing. The kid had ran right into his bruises, and it hurt like hell just by touching them. "Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head. "They need to make the halls wider, or some shit. I'm so tired of having little kids running around and bumping into me everyday." Frustrated, he let out a long breath, and attempted to regain his composure. He just needs to relax--he's going to be fine, right? Right.
"Yeah, sure," he offered a weak smile, nodding at her suggestion. "I'd love to. But I might be late from practice, so I'll probably see you around seven o'clock, maybe a little earlier. That sound good?" Normally, the two would go over to her house to study for some test, or for her to tutor him in the math homework. Sometimes it was just to have a good time, watch a movie or just simply talk for hours about everything and nothing. He was tempted to skip practice. But he couldn't. That would land him a whole night in the Basement, and even more bruises. He bit his tongue as they walked inside the classroom, where he took his usual seat beside her, and began pulling out his notebook.
Some freshman rammed into him from behind with a high pitched squeal, right into his lower back. He swore loudly, wincing. The kid had ran right into his bruises, and it hurt like hell just by touching them. "Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head. "They need to make the halls wider, or some shit. I'm so tired of having little kids running around and bumping into me everyday." Frustrated, he let out a long breath, and attempted to regain his composure. He just needs to relax--he's going to be fine, right? Right.
"Yeah, sure," he offered a weak smile, nodding at her suggestion. "I'd love to. But I might be late from practice, so I'll probably see you around seven o'clock, maybe a little earlier. That sound good?" Normally, the two would go over to her house to study for some test, or for her to tutor him in the math homework. Sometimes it was just to have a good time, watch a movie or just simply talk for hours about everything and nothing. He was tempted to skip practice. But he couldn't. That would land him a whole night in the Basement, and even more bruises. He bit his tongue as they walked inside the classroom, where he took his usual seat beside her, and began pulling out his notebook.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David never really invited her over to his house as much anymore. They had spent so much time in each others houses back in middle school, but shortly after seventh and eighth grade, he stopped inviting her. He'd rather not have to deal with his father while she was there. She didn't need to see how often his father got drunk, or cussed both him and Mason out. Because of this, he always came up with some lame excuse, and she never questioned it, though he is sure by now she suspects something is wrong. Oh well.
"Oh my God," he laughed, an amused grin working its way onto his face. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't laugh, but that's hilarious." He gently patted her shoulder, taking another left into yet another hallway. The traffic, thankfully, thinned out the farther they went into the school's massive building. Really, the school didn't need to be this large--after all, they are in a small town, for Christ's sake. But whatever. Not much David could do about it, or anything. David adjusted his backpack strap, and trailed his hand across the corridor's wall.
"Yeah, sure thing. I'll text you as soon as I'm done with practice. I'm sure my old man wouldn't mind." Another lie. Coach would mind, somewhat, though the family never really had a "family dinner" like most people would have. He couldn't remember the last time he had to sit down at the same table with his father to eat. He grew rigid just by the thought, and quickly shoved the thought away as they entered the classroom. He let out a sigh of relief. They weren't late. No more detentions for now.
"Oh my God," he laughed, an amused grin working its way onto his face. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't laugh, but that's hilarious." He gently patted her shoulder, taking another left into yet another hallway. The traffic, thankfully, thinned out the farther they went into the school's massive building. Really, the school didn't need to be this large--after all, they are in a small town, for Christ's sake. But whatever. Not much David could do about it, or anything. David adjusted his backpack strap, and trailed his hand across the corridor's wall.
"Yeah, sure thing. I'll text you as soon as I'm done with practice. I'm sure my old man wouldn't mind." Another lie. Coach would mind, somewhat, though the family never really had a "family dinner" like most people would have. He couldn't remember the last time he had to sit down at the same table with his father to eat. He grew rigid just by the thought, and quickly shoved the thought away as they entered the classroom. He let out a sigh of relief. They weren't late. No more detentions for now.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David truly loved hanging out with Rose. The two could have practically been siblings. Some of the old folks in town often mistook them for a brother and sister--he assumed they only did so because they forgot their reading glasses, or something. Either way, he was thankful to have met someone like her in his life. She was the reason he even bothered continuing on with life, along with Mason, of course. She was his anchor to keep him back in reality when he drifted off in the labyrinth of his mind.
Their teacher, Mrs. Randall, was a great teacher. He just had a difficult time comprehending the material and keeping up with math in general, so it had nothing to do with the teacher in this case. Quite simply, he wasn't cut out for math. Or academics in general. Sure, he was passing all of his courses, but that didn't mean he didn't struggle in them. Most of the time he barely can keep up, and often goes to tutoring when he can, or ask for help from Rose. Sports, on the other hand, were as easy as riding a bike for him. Some of the time, anyway. He still messes up now and then (though, sometimes it isn't his fault for being tired, but he still beats himself up for it), and he hates himself for it.
Somewhere in the middle of class, he glanced down at his notebook. He had nearly a full page with notes already, which was quite a lot for his standards. He was almost proud of himself for trying to pay attention in class, and he found himself smiling as he watched Randall scribble a formula on the whiteboard in a black marker, thin and neat. Copying down the formula, he bit the inside of his cheek. Already, his mind was struggling to grasp the concept of the formula. He felt frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he do anything right? Is he retarded, or something? David set the pencil down, his hand red from gripping it harshly.
Every now and then, he glanced up at the clock. Time couldn't have gone more slow, he thought. He had given up on attempting to follow Mrs. Randall, even though it was a review of what they had already gone over. It was too frustrating. Maybe he is mentally retarded. Running a hand through his messy hair, he rested his cheek on his forearm against the desk, feeling exhaustion sink in. Before he had a chance to stop himself, he found himself closing his eyes, Mrs. Randall's voice fading away along with the rest of the class.
Their teacher, Mrs. Randall, was a great teacher. He just had a difficult time comprehending the material and keeping up with math in general, so it had nothing to do with the teacher in this case. Quite simply, he wasn't cut out for math. Or academics in general. Sure, he was passing all of his courses, but that didn't mean he didn't struggle in them. Most of the time he barely can keep up, and often goes to tutoring when he can, or ask for help from Rose. Sports, on the other hand, were as easy as riding a bike for him. Some of the time, anyway. He still messes up now and then (though, sometimes it isn't his fault for being tired, but he still beats himself up for it), and he hates himself for it.
Somewhere in the middle of class, he glanced down at his notebook. He had nearly a full page with notes already, which was quite a lot for his standards. He was almost proud of himself for trying to pay attention in class, and he found himself smiling as he watched Randall scribble a formula on the whiteboard in a black marker, thin and neat. Copying down the formula, he bit the inside of his cheek. Already, his mind was struggling to grasp the concept of the formula. He felt frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he do anything right? Is he retarded, or something? David set the pencil down, his hand red from gripping it harshly.
Every now and then, he glanced up at the clock. Time couldn't have gone more slow, he thought. He had given up on attempting to follow Mrs. Randall, even though it was a review of what they had already gone over. It was too frustrating. Maybe he is mentally retarded. Running a hand through his messy hair, he rested his cheek on his forearm against the desk, feeling exhaustion sink in. Before he had a chance to stop himself, he found himself closing his eyes, Mrs. Randall's voice fading away along with the rest of the class.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David felt like he was falling. Falling and falling, and yet he can't do anything about it. Somewhere, he heard him. Coach, screaming at him on the top of his lungs, but he couldn't see him. Some how, he knew it wasn't real. Just a dream. Just a dream. He told himself that over and over for what felt like an eternity. Then he was shaken, Coach's voice fading out slowly. He wasn't falling anymore. The teacher's voice came into focus, and he stirred after a moment. Everything in him ached for more sleep.
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, slowly sitting up as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. It took him a full minute to get coordinated and oriented. He glanced up at the clock. How much time had gone by? Was class over? Shit. "Thanks, Rose.." he offered a tire smile, propping his head up on one elbow as he blinked. "Um, how long was I asleep? Is class over?" He hoped it was. He wanted to get out of class as soon as possible, though he wasn't sure why--another class meant one step closer to practice, and that meant more time with Coach. Ugh.
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, slowly sitting up as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. It took him a full minute to get coordinated and oriented. He glanced up at the clock. How much time had gone by? Was class over? Shit. "Thanks, Rose.." he offered a tire smile, propping his head up on one elbow as he blinked. "Um, how long was I asleep? Is class over?" He hoped it was. He wanted to get out of class as soon as possible, though he wasn't sure why--another class meant one step closer to practice, and that meant more time with Coach. Ugh.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
David, upon seeing her silent gesture, gathered his textbook, notebook, and a few other things he had taken out. He felt his cheek stinging from resting on top of the textbook for so long. A bit relieved he hadn't slept the whole class away, he glanced at Randall, and then back at the class. He could have been dead and no one would have noticed, he decided. No one even cast a second glance at the two, thankfully. The last thing he'd need is more attention than he already has.
"Umm, alright then. If we get busted, I'm blaming you," he teased with half a smile, still trying to shake the sleepiness remaining in his body. David didn't bother looking at the time. Whatever she had planned, she obviously had time. They'd be fine. They always were. So, instead of asking a bunch of questions, he packed his things, slung on his backpack, and followed her. "Soo, you plan on telling me what we're doing?" he asked once out of the classroom, into the silent hall. He raked a hand through his bed-headed hair in attempt to fix it, but to no success. Oh well.
"Umm, alright then. If we get busted, I'm blaming you," he teased with half a smile, still trying to shake the sleepiness remaining in his body. David didn't bother looking at the time. Whatever she had planned, she obviously had time. They'd be fine. They always were. So, instead of asking a bunch of questions, he packed his things, slung on his backpack, and followed her. "Soo, you plan on telling me what we're doing?" he asked once out of the classroom, into the silent hall. He raked a hand through his bed-headed hair in attempt to fix it, but to no success. Oh well.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Hey, hey, no touching my hair," he playfully nudged her, ruffling her hair from behind with a smirk. David, of course, wasn't serious about her not touching his hair. Quite honestly, he couldn't care any less if she touched his hair--hell, she could dye it pink and he still wouldn't really give a shit. Okay, that's a lie. But whatever. He wouldn't mind any other color but pink, though; but he's never, ever, considered dying his hair. Partially because of his fathers--no, Coach's--Rules about the length of his hair, and such. He is fairly certain his father would throw a fit if he came home one day with his hair a different color. Probably give him a hell of a beating, too, though he isn't sure what about.
"Oh, okay. That makes sense. I guess," he rubbed his face. "Don't expect me to talk much. Or do anything, really. I can barely walk, let alone think straight." David chuckled, slinging his backpack on. The Library was perfect. For both studying, and sleeping. Sometimes a little bit of both. By the time they were half way there, he decided he'd use his time to actually be productive to society and study with Rose. "So, when's our next test?"
"Oh, okay. That makes sense. I guess," he rubbed his face. "Don't expect me to talk much. Or do anything, really. I can barely walk, let alone think straight." David chuckled, slinging his backpack on. The Library was perfect. For both studying, and sleeping. Sometimes a little bit of both. By the time they were half way there, he decided he'd use his time to actually be productive to society and study with Rose. "So, when's our next test?"
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Woah," he laughed, shaking his head in dismay. "Jesus. That's quite a statement, Miss Erway." A playful bump in the shoulder, a heartfelt laugh. It was just what David needed to take his mind off the Game, the practice coming up, and Coach. Rose helped with that. A lot. She kept his mind off his father, and anything else that may be troubling him. Though he wasn't sure how she did it, he was thankful for it. Beyond thankful, really. David strolled down the silent hallway, a smile easing his mouth into an upward, curled smile.
"I know, I know. I usually don't, too," he said with a quick wink, smirking. "Nah. But I actually need to start doing my work. The last homework assignment was graded and now my grade dropped to like, a low B. If I bomb this test, I'm screwed," he said with a frown, fiddling with his sleeve as they entered the large library. A few other students were studying, but not many at all. He was glad--he hated having to deal with other people, despite it being a library. "Alright. Guess I'll have to study my ass off this weekend, then, huh? Though, that'll be a bit difficult with the Game coming and all, but I'll find time." He always does. Unless he gets sent down to the Basement because of losing the Game.
"I know, I know. I usually don't, too," he said with a quick wink, smirking. "Nah. But I actually need to start doing my work. The last homework assignment was graded and now my grade dropped to like, a low B. If I bomb this test, I'm screwed," he said with a frown, fiddling with his sleeve as they entered the large library. A few other students were studying, but not many at all. He was glad--he hated having to deal with other people, despite it being a library. "Alright. Guess I'll have to study my ass off this weekend, then, huh? Though, that'll be a bit difficult with the Game coming and all, but I'll find time." He always does. Unless he gets sent down to the Basement because of losing the Game.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
A few stray rays of sunlight poked through the library's large, towering windows and hit the side of his face, warming him as the time went on. "That sounds perfect." It's what they normally did, anyway, but they mostly did it whenever a pre-calculus test popped up, or if they just wanted to hang out before (sometimes after) a game. But this Game is different. It will determine whether or not the team will go to state championships this year, again. If they lose, the season will be done. And there will be hell to pay, too.
"Ugh. Gonna have to do a lot of cramming, then, huh? I really need to do well on the test, or my grade will drop to a C. My old man will be beyond pissed, too," he said, frowning. It was true. His father--ahem, Coach--would be pissed. More than a little pissed, though. Pissed enough to beat his son's back with the end of a belt, or simply use his fists. Sometimes a little bit of both. Then, once he is over, he would lock him down in the Basement so he can get wasted on cheap beer. David tried not to think about that as he opened his notebook, and the textbook.
"Ugh. Gonna have to do a lot of cramming, then, huh? I really need to do well on the test, or my grade will drop to a C. My old man will be beyond pissed, too," he said, frowning. It was true. His father--ahem, Coach--would be pissed. More than a little pissed, though. Pissed enough to beat his son's back with the end of a belt, or simply use his fists. Sometimes a little bit of both. Then, once he is over, he would lock him down in the Basement so he can get wasted on cheap beer. David tried not to think about that as he opened his notebook, and the textbook.
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"He is," he spoke, a bit hesitant of his next few words. "He's strict, yeah--always been like that. But its no big deal, really." Right. No big deal my ass, he thought silently, scribbling down a few notes in his notebook shortly after copying her notes, too. The formula was complicated, as always, but after a few times of silently reading it and the notes following it, he was pretty certain he (somewhat) understood the concept of the formula. However, actually applying the formula to some problems presented a whole new perspective, of course.
David opened his textbook to page 430, and began working on the homework, knowing it was better to get a head-start on the homework while he had the chance to do so. Just looking at his handwriting, he scrunched his nose. "I feel bad for all my teachers," he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I can barely read my own handwriting, for God's sake." After copying down the homework's first problem (Randall really got picky about students not copying the original problem down because she claimed she can't see all the work done if she doesn't see the original problem in the first place), he stared at it and attempted to apply the formula in his head.
A few tweaks here and there, he completed the first half of the problem before he began struggling. "God. I really hate this formula," he mumbled. "I think I did something wrong, Rose." Silently erasing the whole problem, he began from step one and tried to see where he went wrong. The library was silent. Not wanting awkward silence to hang over them, he glanced at her with a small smile. "So, how's your uncle doin'?"
David opened his textbook to page 430, and began working on the homework, knowing it was better to get a head-start on the homework while he had the chance to do so. Just looking at his handwriting, he scrunched his nose. "I feel bad for all my teachers," he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I can barely read my own handwriting, for God's sake." After copying down the homework's first problem (Randall really got picky about students not copying the original problem down because she claimed she can't see all the work done if she doesn't see the original problem in the first place), he stared at it and attempted to apply the formula in his head.
A few tweaks here and there, he completed the first half of the problem before he began struggling. "God. I really hate this formula," he mumbled. "I think I did something wrong, Rose." Silently erasing the whole problem, he began from step one and tried to see where he went wrong. The library was silent. Not wanting awkward silence to hang over them, he glanced at her with a small smile. "So, how's your uncle doin'?"
Lady Odyssey
Gone.
"Hearts. Of course. Genius," he grinned towards her, laughing along. David drew a small heart over one 'i', a variable in the problem, and smirked. "Hopefully Randall doesn't get the wrong idea," he teased, giving a small wink. Leaning back in the cushion, he let out a long breath, silently going over the formula in his mind. Normally, once he goes over a formula in his head a few times, he's golden with memorization. However, actually applying the formula always gave him trouble though he isn't ever sure why.
"I know, I know. I got the formula down. It's just... it's just applying it that screws with my head," he shrugged, twisting the cloth of his sleeve as he went over the problem mentally, and after a long moment, began scratching the problem down once more. The formula was seared in his mind by now, and he was thankful--a lot of students complained they could never remember the formulas, whereas David had no problem memorizing the formula itself. Sometimes he just over-thinks things, and gets in over his head. Just slow down, David. "Oh, really? Sweet."
Hesitantly pulling out his calculator--he always felt as if he was cheating when using one, though he is never sure why and knows its really silly, especially in pre-calculus--he punched a few numbers in, and continued working on the problem down the paper, gripping his pencil firmly as he chewed on his lower lip. "I think I got it," he put his pencil down, scanning over his work once more. "Right?" Glancing up at her for approval, he set the blue calculator down, and let go of his sleeve.
"That's great! Does he have to work more hours, though?" he asked with a slight frown, now looking at Rose. Her uncle was all she had, really, besides David. He was constantly worried about both her and the well being of her uncle; it was a funny thing, considering he isn't even related to her or her uncle, but still treated them like family. More than family, almost.
"I know, I know. I got the formula down. It's just... it's just applying it that screws with my head," he shrugged, twisting the cloth of his sleeve as he went over the problem mentally, and after a long moment, began scratching the problem down once more. The formula was seared in his mind by now, and he was thankful--a lot of students complained they could never remember the formulas, whereas David had no problem memorizing the formula itself. Sometimes he just over-thinks things, and gets in over his head. Just slow down, David. "Oh, really? Sweet."
Hesitantly pulling out his calculator--he always felt as if he was cheating when using one, though he is never sure why and knows its really silly, especially in pre-calculus--he punched a few numbers in, and continued working on the problem down the paper, gripping his pencil firmly as he chewed on his lower lip. "I think I got it," he put his pencil down, scanning over his work once more. "Right?" Glancing up at her for approval, he set the blue calculator down, and let go of his sleeve.
"That's great! Does he have to work more hours, though?" he asked with a slight frown, now looking at Rose. Her uncle was all she had, really, besides David. He was constantly worried about both her and the well being of her uncle; it was a funny thing, considering he isn't even related to her or her uncle, but still treated them like family. More than family, almost.
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