The miserable fucker’s eyes round out, like I’ve just said the most hurtful thing I could possibly think of. “I…I didn’t…know, Alex. I wouldn’t have…”
Fuck him. Fuck him and his fake guilt. “Right. You wouldn’t have done a thing,” I spit. “You didn’t even check on us.”
“Ben?” he whispers. “Did…they hurt him, too?”
Manic laughter bubbles up the back of my throat. Stepping away from him, putting a healthy amount of space between us, I let my head rock back and I unleash it: howling raw, insane laughter up at the sky. “No. No, no, y’know, Ben was actually pretty fucking lucky. How ironic is that? I fought tooth and nail, and I railed against Jackie, but at least she fucking loved him. She never would have hurt him. Not on purpose. He had a stable home, which is more than I can say I ever had. Not that any of it matters now, of course, but BEN IS FUCKING DEAD AND YOU CAN GO TO FUCKING HELL!”
I hurl myself at him, letting it all go; the lightning inside me needs out and won’t be told no a second longer. Jack throws up his hands, shielding his face, but I’m not out to break his nose. A broken nose is painful, but it’s not the end of the world. I home in on a more fragile part of his body: his chest, and his stomach. If I can break a few of his ribs, I might be able to do some more serious damage underneath. Deflate a lung. Stop his heart. I don’t know…just something.
I drive my fists into his sides and his chest with as much force as I can muster, blow after blow raining down…and he immediately topples over onto his ass. Not what I was expecting. I wait for him to get up, blowing hard, switching my weight from one foot to the other, ready to fucking end this…but then Jack rolls onto his side in the dirty snow and hacks, wheezing as he tries to sit himself up…and all I see is a pathetic loser in a leather jacket, pretending to be something he’s not. Pretending that he still fucking matters.
“Goddamnit.” I drag my hands through my hair, pulling on it out of frustration. “Just…get the fuck out of here, Jack. I’m sick of looking at your face. For the last time, do us both a solid and leave Raleigh in your rearview, okay? I don’t want you here.”
Huffing, my father gets to his feet, straightening out his t-shirt and his jacket. His face is sheet white, the same color as the bleached-out sky. His bottom lip is busted open, staining his teeth bright crimson. “Would if I could, son,” he pants. “But I’m gonna be here for at least another couple of weeks. I’m staying at the Motel 6…if you change your mind and wanna…talk.”
I watch him hobbling off toward the parking lot, amazed that those few hits I got in didn’t miraculously make me feel better. During the long nights and the endless days when I’ve imagined laying into my old man, I was so fucking sure that they would.
I haven’t brought a bag with me. No notebooks. No textbooks. No pens. I basically came to Raleigh to observe Silver from a distance, but after what just happened with Jack, my plans have changed dramatically. Jack dropped out of school the moment he could legally get away with it. He took shitty construction jobs, never rising above the lowest paid shit-kicker position, because he was never willing to put the hard yards in. He gave up on everything before he even got started, and that went for my mother, too.
If I bail on school just because Ben’s not here anymore, and I walk away from Silver because things have gotten hard, then how am I really any different than him? Ben would be disappointed in me if I quit on everything now, when I was the one who was always encouraging him to do better, be stronger, to put his head down and focus on his education and the life he was going to build for himself.
When I enter the classroom on the first floor of the English block, Ms. Swift squints at me over the top of her iPad, frowning. She’s a mousy, quirky looking woman, and her bangs are permanently in her eyes. “Mr. Moretti, I don’t believe you’re in this class?”
At the mention of my name, Silver’s head snaps up, her brightly shining eyes searching me out. It kills me that her go-to reaction is immediate worry; I can read it on her face from a mile away. Her cheeks are still flushed from the cold outside, the end of her nose adorably pink. She’s so damn beautiful, it makes me breathless to even look at her. I smile in an attempt to quash the look of panic she’s wearing, hoping that her mind will stop racing quite so much. “I requested a class change, Ms. Swift. I don’t feel adequately challenged in my current English class.”
“Uhhh…” Ms. Swift looks down at her iPad, flitting through a couple of screens. “I don’t see a transfer notification from the office here, Alex. You can’t just show up to an AP class because you feel like it. Making it into an AP class is…well, it’s kind of a big deal. So…”
The students on the front row avoid eye contact with me, staring down at their open textbooks like they’re afraid I’m about to hulk out and trash the place. A couple of the kids on the second row brave a glance or two at me while also watching Ms. Swift, waiting to see what she’ll do.
I’m not really paying attention to any of them, though. I’m too focused on Silver, trying to communicate a stumbling apology to her with my eyes. “I won’t bring your class average down,” I inform Ms. Swift tightly. “I’m here to learn.”
“You’re sure? Because it looks like you came to make eyes at Silver Parisi rather than open your mind to the brilliance of the English language.”
I turn my full attention to her now, my gaze drilling into her face. “I swear. I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll sit by the window. I won’t even be near Silver.”
She doesn’t look too convinced. Doesn’t sound it either. “All right. By the window it is. Waste our time and we’ll boot you outta the room quicker than you can say ‘Geoffrey Chaucer who?’ And I will be checking with Karen after lunch to make sure you put that request in. Sit your butt down, Mr. Moretti.”
I go and claim the only available seat left in the room—third row, directly under the AC vent, which is churning out cold air despite the fact that there are icicles dangling from the top of the casement on the other side of the window. “Uh, great. Umm, I actually need to borrow a pen. And some paper. And a textbook.”
Ms. Swift eyes me balefully. “Ah. You clearly did come here to learn, didn’t you?” Her frosty smile doesn’t affect me. I’m chilled to the bone and only getting colder with the AC continually blasting me, and I’ve just seriously screwed myself over by electing to bump myself up a class—the workload’s bound to be way harder than my regular class—but that’s all background noise. I’m breathing the same air that Silver’s breathing. I feel the proximity of her, and the wild, frenetic beast inside of me that’s been bucking and pulling on its chains finally calms, finally breathes a massive sigh of relief. This is where I’m supposed to be. And if joining yet another AP class and burning my brain cells to a crisp means that I get to be near her, then so fucking be it.
14
ALEX
I tell her about Zander’s confession concerning my father. I tell her about my run-in with Monty. I tell her I won’t be working at the Rock anymore. Once I’ve reassured her that I won’t be struggling to pay rent for a long while yet, she seems to take everything in stride. Predictably, she’s not too happy that I vanished on her, though.