Chapter Two

I have to admit, the school is cool. My family and I have been in California for a month and I hadn’t been looking forward to this.

            My sister, Patricia, and I split off from each other when we get here. We don’t like to be affiliated with one another unless it’s absolutely necessary.

            The bell has rung but I take my time getting to class knowing that Mr. Parks will most likely introduce me in front of the class.

            I take my hat off before I knock.

            The man who opens the door is not what I expect. He’s young and I like the way he’s dressed.

            He gives me a once over with his grey eyes.

            “William Slaughter.”

            “Right,” I say.

            “I’ve been expecting you. Come in. What’s up?”

            A man hug is exchanged.

            “New in town, ya know. So, nothing much.”

            “I got you, kid.”

            My eyebrows shoot up. I think this guy might be my brother.

            “Guys! Hey, yo!”

            “Yo,” a girl near the back reply’s provocatively.

            He laughes and clears his throat, “This is William Slaughter. He hails from SoHo in Manhatten, New York.”

            “Your mom goes to college,” I hear someone say.

            The class burst out laughing and I do crack a smile. I love high school.

            “Where am I sitting?”

            You can take the empty seat in front of Kendall. Can you raise your hand for me, Kendall?”

            I look around for this Kendall and think whoever it is is joking around.

            “Kendall.”

            “Hm?”

            My eyes lock with the girl’s from the park. Her name is Kendall. How fitting. She looks away first but I’ve already spotted the sadness in her eyes still. I take the seat and as I’m getting settled, Mr. McCoy asks a question.

            “Who would like to share their take on Romeo and Juliet’s relationship?”

            “How do you feel about it, Mr. M?”

            “Nice try, Devin. Someone. Anyone?”

            A silence settles over the class. Everyone stops moving as well because if high schoolers know anything about teachers, it’s that they call on the person that’s moving the most.

            “Kendall?”

            She lets out a low sigh.

            “I have nothing to say,” she says quietly.

            “Did you read the material?”

            “Several times.”

            “You must have an opinion. At least one.”

            “Not one I’d care to share.”

            “I think Shakespeare didn’t understand the magnitude of what he was writing,” I begin. “Teenage love is often mocked by adults but these kids displayed more than just ‘teenaged’ romance. Their love was beyond grown up. Romeo and Juliet were star crossed lovers who were able to look past their last names to the person within. They were ahead of their time. Their love was wise. ‘Do with their death bury their parents’ strife. And the continuance of their parents’ rage, which, but their children’s end, nought could remove’.

 “Their deaths were in vain because their parents were idiots who didn’t understand and didn’t learn the unspoken lesson their children learn; the unspoken lesson that survived this tragedy. Adults aren’t always smarter and they’re not always right.”

“Screw The Man!” a boy yelled.

The class broke out in whoops, howls, and applause.

Devin leaned over and high-fived me. I’m grateful because now I’m casually sitting in a way that allows me to steal glances at her.

I notice, while Mr. McCoy is still trying to settle the class, that her copy of Romeo and Juliet is heavily marked.. She has plenty of opinions, just none she cared to share.

“Looks like you’ve got plenty to share.”

“Hm?”

“Can I-,” I stop short because when I reach for her book, she flinches.

“Sorry,” she forces out.

“No need. So, can I?” I indicate the book.

“Sure.”

I like how soft spoken she is and how gentle, practically vulnerable she seems.

She pushes it toward me and I flip through it. She has more than enough notes. She’s got a perspective for everyone in class.

“Wow.”

“I’m a freak. I know.”

“No. it’s great. You’re thorough. Efficient.”

She shrugs a tight shouldered shrug that moves her entire upper body. I stare at her and her slightly parted lips that were unsure if they wanted to express her thoughts or not. She looks down and her hair falls forward. She combs it back over her head with her fingers. Kendall is graceful.

“What?” she asks uncomfortably.

“Sorry for staring. Formally, I’m Will.”

I hold out my hand and she looks at it, then me. She doesn’t shake it but I don’t mind. She looks me right in the eyes and it gets my heart going. There’s so much intelligence and life experiences in them.

“I don’t mean to be rude. I just-

“It’s cool.”

“Formally, I’m Kendall.”

“Nice to meet you, Kendall.”

“Homework!”

I keep my eyes on hers for a second longer than give Mr. McCoy my attention.

“Tomorrow everyone," he says with emphasis looking at Kendall, “will give an opinion on Romeo and Juliet’s relationship.”

The bell rings and she’s up and out of the class. I rush after her because I still have her book. I barely catch up to her. I place a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She turns so sharply that I don’t even have time to think.

She lets out a low sigh and places a hand over the shoulder I touched.

“God. What, Will?”

“Your book,” I caution holding it out to her.

“Keep it,” she says backing away. “Enlighten yourself.”

She fades into the crowd of kids.

 

He touched me on the shoulder I’d hurt last night. There was a really bad bruise there now and it was sensitive. He’d made me flinch twice. He saw me flinch two times.

It was all too weird. I haven’t had a conversation with anyone at school since early last year, when I was a freshmen. Now, here’s this kid, Will, who stares at me with dark chocolate colored eyes, and a warm smile. I couldn’t tell, though, if he was the kind of guy who knew he was cute or not. All in all, he seemed nice but I have a daddy complex. He could be as nice as the weather in Florida. I would never trust him.

If I was lucky, he would spare me the disappoint and never talk to me again.

However, I wasn’t lucky because while I sat alone in the back of the lunch room near the windows, a pair of Nikes disturbed my peripheral vision.

“Do you mind?”

I look at him with his backwards red hat, long sleeved red thermal shirt, black and red shoes, and his black book bag high on his back. There’s that warm smile again.

“I kinda do but help yourself.”

He sits and his eyes land on what’s in front of me.

I become all too aware of my portfolio lying open in front of me. I slam it closed and he smiles again.

“Private when it comes to your photos, I see.”

I shrug and give a look of indifference.

“You’re a bitter one, aren’t you?”

“What do you want? Do you want to give the book back so badly? Most kids would kill for it.”

He leans forward on his elbows and narrows his eyes, confused. It’s very attractive but his narrowed eyes remind me of my dad so I have to work to hold his gaze.

“Did you not hear me speak in class? I don’t need your book. I’m new here and you look like good people. The kind of person I’d want to be friends with. Was I wrong? Are you a nasty person I should avoid?”

I hear the voice my dad likes so much but I save for my brothers come out of my mouth.

“We can try.” I can’t hold his eyes, “But I’m not making any promises.”

“Is it so hard for you to maintain a friendship?”

I can’t answer him.

“Trying is all I ask.”

I feel like he just let me off the hook like when he bailed me out in class.

He stuffs a countless number of fries in his mouth. I watch him chew and wait for him to swallow because I get the feeling he’s not done.

“What were those pictures on top? They weren’t in the protective covering so you haven’t chosen yet. Can I be of some assistance?”

I do need an opinion. I pull the three loose pictures from the book and spread them out for him to see.

“Oh, wow. These are good.”

“Which is best?”

He stops and looks up at me then examines each picture closely, running a finger over random places.

“This one,” he says after awhile, pointing at the photo on the far right.

I gather up the photos.

“I thought so, too.”

He looks at me and his features…soften. I’ve never seen it before. I’ve seen my brothers look sad but this was different.

“Who is this in the photos?”

I contemplate my answer but not long for fear of suspicion.

“Me.”

“But-

“The wonders of Photoshop.”

“Really?” he asks almost too excited.

“Yeah. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I mean, I prefer dark room photos but when I have something special in mind, I use my computer. The bruises look good, huh?”

“No kidding.”

“Thank you. You couldn’t possibly imagine how long it took me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief inwardly. He sounds genuinely shocked at my Photoshop skills. He can never know that this picture is unenhanced; that this is the picture for all it’s worth. It hasn’t been changed. My father gave me these bruises to have, and that I got that tattoo to keep myself from seeing the truth about what he was doing to me.

The bell rings.

“So, we’re friends?” he asks.

I nod, “Yeah.”

“Then can you show me to my next class because I have no idea where I’m going?”

I listen to his low chuckle and wonder if I’ll ever be able to smile so easily.

“Sure.”

“Do you ever smile?”

I feel like he read my mind. I feel invaded and violated, a way I don’t usually feel at school, away from him. I didn’t like having friends. They got to know you, read you, learned you.

“Well, do you?”

He cut off my thought process.

“No.”

His smile disappears and he follows me out of the lunchroom.