 
# Contents:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

About NC Harris

About Andre' Mwansa

# Chapter ONE: JESSE

A whimper echoes through the house. " _Help_."

I drop my mascara and race down the corridor, into the bathroom, where I see Jake, tugging on Mum's hair, laughing manically. He's in the bathtub, and has her strands knotted up in his fist. She sits beside him, eyes fastened shut, wincing at each tug of her hair.

I breathe in sharply and take a controlled step into the bathroom. "Jake, let Mum go."

He sniggers, and scoots away from me, pulling Mum with him as he does.

She cowers.

I feign a smile. "Don't you wanna get dry, and watch TV?"

He laughs from his belly and I'm finding it hard to see the mental disability over the arsehole brother.

I'm sick of this shit.

'Let her go!" I scream at him, and his face drops, his fingers loosen and free my mum. She scoots back and presses her palm to her scalp. She scowls at me and glances back at Jake lovingly as he wails hysterically. "It's okay, my little love."

"Jesse!" Mum envelopes him and scolds me.

I'm the bad guy.

" _Oh Jesse_ ," he cries, cuddling Mum and splashing water all over the floor. "Jesse, yelled at me."

Mum's eyes turn to slits. "Jesse, why can't you try to be pleasant."

"I just can't today Mum." I turn from her and walk back to my room. "I have to get to school."

While I finish getting dressed, I clench my teeth and pretend not to hear Jake howling and cursing Mum. I walk out the front door and feel a sense of relief when I see Bart waiting for me in the driveway. I smile at him and it feels like freedom, and simplicity. I bounce into his BMW convertible and we drive away. I pull my sunglasses out and watch as the sunset strip goes by, big houses and beautiful cars, and everything I should be.

Bart grips the steering wheel tightly. "You okay, Jesse?"

"I will be," I say, as a sort of challenge to myself.

# Chapter TWO: BART

Last summer I went to the doctor after breaking out in hives when Dad died, and Mom found herself a new lover soon after that. The doctor said I had a stress rash, and then proceeded to accuse me of being depressed because I admitted I wasn't sleeping lately. It made no sense, but she was adamant that I take a pill that combatted both depression and anxiety. I went home and researched the side effects: headaches, brain zaps, decreased libido. Life is already a challenge without those extra little extras, so I never called her back. Instead, I resolved to find something that really calms my uneasy psychological state. I'll take anything if it means not seeing a shrink. I've never liked them. Don't trust them. They're snakes in the grass. Professional manipulators.

Of course, Jesse doesn't know about the whole shrink thing. That girl looks up to me. I don't want her to start worrying about me. I don't want her to start prying. I'm her Mr. Perfect and I plan to keep it that way. I like her. I care about her. Maybe she cares about me too and that's enough.

"I feel different with this," I say to Ben. Not my best friend but one of the few guys I trust and come to when I'm not feeling like myself. We're outside behind the school's main library with open books at ready in case we spot anyone approaching.

Ben laughs. "We're smoking Lamb's Breath today. It's new to the area, just got it in last night from my east coast supplier."

"Lamb's Breath," I smile and for a moment, I consider how something like this would've been stuffed and hidden to make such a trek. I decide I don't need to know.

"It gives you more of a euphoric high," he says. "Makes you introspective and creative and shit. Peter Tosh used to smoke this."

I can't help but laugh, and in doing so the smoke chokes me and I start coughing. Mr. Ken my biology teacher would be so honoured to explain this kind of reflex if he so happened to bump into me right now.

"Shit, shit, shit," I hear Ben say.

Still coughing. "I'm okay man, it's just a weed cough."

"Fuck. No not that, I know you're okay," He says looking straight ahead. "That."

I follow his gaze and see the new definition of adulthood walking slowly toward us. Big in the middle, halo like hairline, no neck and short. Speak of the devil. I sometimes wonder if Mr. Ken ever bends down to tie his own shoes. I reckon he ties them first before putting them on or maybe his wife ties them for him. That is if he even has a wife.

I quickly drop the still burning joint and crush it with my left shoe before it even hits the ground. Ben quickly picks up his book, I pick up mine, and we both pretend to be studying but damn if this coughing will stop.

"Its class time," Mr. Ken says startling us. How did he get here so fast? He has a sharp voice for a man, I wonder how he sounds when he's about to come. He's breathing heavily and sweat is pouring down his face as if he's just from running a marathon. "What're you two doing out here?"

No one says a word for what seems like five seconds.

"Uh. . .um. . ." Ben starts. "We were just. . ."

Cough, cough. Dammit, there is still a handful of smoke in my lungs.

"What's that Bart?" Mr. Ken asks. He's always addressing everyone by their first names. It pisses me off. Trying to act all friendly when we all know what he's capable of. Two kids got expelled last year because of him. Bitch acts as if he owns the school or something. I believe every school has one of those. The wannabe principal.

"It's nothing, it's just weed cou-" I catch myself on time and clear my throat. "It's an allergy. . .an allergy cough." God, is that even a thing.

I know Mr. Ken is no person you can easily fool. So, I fake a sneeze in hope of clearing any doubts he's having. Can only hope he doesn't ask what the allergy is.

He stares at us for what seem like eternity and I can't help but notice how his bald head gleams from the mid-day sunshine. He looks at Ben, then at me, then back at Ben. "Ben," he finally says. "Go back to class. Bart, come with me to my office."

Fuck.

# Chapter Three: JESSE

I stare at the big red C on my assignment and remember how Jake pulled half of my textbook apart. I borrowed Bart's book but by that time I'd lost all interest in Marxism, and the modes of production, and we just cuddled on his couch. I glance at the empty seat next to me and frown. Bart's never late to class. He knows we need perfect scores to get into the same university and get the hell away from my brother and this town. Not that he needs to study. He's got a brain the size of a planet.

I raise my hand, "Excuse me, Mrs Price?"

She peers at me over her glasses. "Jesse, if you're going to refute your grade you can do it after class." She turns back to the board and continues to scribble. I scowl at her boring brown mop of hair and the oversized olive-green cardigan she's wearing to hide the fact she's scrawny and insecure about it. I cross my legs under the desk, and stare at his empty chair again.

When did I become so reliant on his presence?

The day drags on, and I haven't seen Bart since he kissed me goodbye at my locker this morning. I'm in gym playing volleyball when I see Ben and jog over to him, he ogles my short skirt and stares unapologetically at my breasts, and I have no idea why Bart likes this guy.

"Have you seen him?"

"Not since first period." He grins at me, his eyes red and narrowed and he's clearly high. It's one thing to smoke a few spliffs at a party but a completely different thing to be smoking at school.

Ugh. . . gross.

I curl my nose up at him. "Alright, well, seeya."

I wander back to Mandy and Stacey and the girls, and we stand around and gossip for a while instead of actually playing ball. The boys on the other court perv on us and whistle and it's a pathetic display.

"So you and Bart haven't done it yet?" Mandy presses, and it's the third time she's asked me this. I roll my eyes. It's because she likes him. She's always liked him. He's perfect. Rich. Smart. Cute. And yet, I'm not worried. He only has eyes for me, and I only have eyes for him, and we are solid. He's my person. He takes care of me. His presence ends the drama.

We have no secrets.

I feel the need to squash this topic. "Excuse me, my boyfriend is very taken care of but technically, no, we haven't. . ." I make bunny ears as I say, " _done it_."

She flicks her red hair over her shoulder and leans on one hip. "You're such a prude, Jesse. You've been together forever."

"I'm not a fucking prude Mandy. I'm just not a slut."

The girls make _Oooo_ sounds, and Mandy is biting her lip as if she's getting ready to throw her fist into my face. If I come home with a black eye and Jake sees it, he's going to spiral out of control. Then my mum is going to crumble, and my dad will start drinking every day at noon again.

"You act so perfect Jesse, living on the north side of the river with your perfect family. But I know the truth. I know your father lost his job, and your brother's medical bills are probably going to send you broke."

I hit her.

A bolt of pain rushes up my arm to my elbow, and I think I might have broken my knuckles on her stupid face. I grasp my fist and there is blood everywhere, and she's yelping, and people are rushing over.

They huddle around us.

"Jesse."

I close my eyes and whimper as I hold my throbbing fist.

"Jesse. You'd better come to my office."

# Chapter FOUR: BART

"So," Mr. Ken starts as he takes his seat behind a desk. He'd left me in his office to teach his first period class, but he's been gone (I look at my wristwatch) for hours.

"So, I've missed half of my classes today," I say interrupting him.

He looks at me shifting a little in his seat. Then scoots the chair behind a bit and pushes the desk forward. Guess he's trying to make room for his big tummy. He finally settles in and pulls the desk back towards him.

"That I'm aware of," he says. Then bends down a little to open his side desk drawer only to retrieve. . .chocolate? He opens one pack, breaks the bar in two and offers me one, stretching his hand out. "Want some?" he says, smiling. "Bet you must be hungry." Fuck, he didn't even wash his hands. For a biology teacher, that's a bad example.

I shake my head. "Am I in trouble? Because last time I checked you're not the principal of this school."

"Not, yet," he says while chewing with his mouth open.

"Not yet in trouble or not yet the principal of this school?"

"Both."

I don't like this shit. Don't like missing classes 'cause I know that calls for Jesse's dark side and a bunch of annoying rhetorical questions. _Where the fuck 've you been? Why do you look tired? Bumped into your friend Ben today, he was extremely high, were you with him?_

"Okay," I say, losing it. "Think I'll see myself out now."

I stand up and head to the door grabbing the knob.

"Bart, please come back," Mr. Ken says, sounding surprisingly calm.

I walk back and resumes my seat.

He clears his throat. "The reason you're still here and not in the principal's office is because I care about you."

I chuckle. "Right."

"Was going through your biology test results for last semester" pause "quite impressive as compared to now, don't you think?"

"Am I the only one whose test grades have gone down in biology?"

"No, but. . ."

"But, maybe you're becoming a bad teacher. Busy playing principal instead of adequately preparing for each class you come to teach."

He stares at me intently for a moment and clears his throat. He does that a lot. "As I was saying. But, you do want to go to college, don't you?"

Honestly, I don't want to live my life based on someone else's idea of. . .what's right or what's moral or what's good. I just want to figure it out for myself even if I make mistakes along the way. And that means not going to college. Not everyone gets to go to college. Even if we were all to graduate with good grades. Then there comes the question of fees and even if everyone could afford the fees, I don't think there're enough colleges to accommodate all of us. You might as well just open a tattoo parlor or something. But, that's just me thinking because I can't do that to Jesse. I promised her I'd get good grades so that we could be together in college. So, I say, "yes" to mister wannabe principal's question.

"Well, then you'll have to up your grades because the grades you get this year will stay with you for the rest of your life. They'll influence the choices that are available to you in one or two years, they'll basically become the foundation of your entire life."

"Speaking from experience?" I ask sarcastically.

"Doesn't matter whether I'm the lowest paid citizen in the country. Just know that I'm the reason doctors exist in the first place." Right, 'cause apparently, you only need a high school certificate to become a doctor.

He continues. "Just work on your resiliency, Bart. I know senior year is the hardest."

"But, isn't resiliency just one more way of saying we should cope with things rather than change them?"

"Like what exactly?"

"Like you as our biology teacher?"

"Tell you what, don't mind me. Mind your grades and your college application. You don't come to school so you can judge teachers. You come here to learn, keep that in mind. Well, I know your father was well off and left you a little bit of dough but even that never lasts without education."

Only people without actual alternative plans talk like that. "Can I go now?" I say standing up.

"Wait," he says stopping me in my tracks once again. "How's your mom doing?"

Fuck, I hate such questions. How the fuck is anyone supposed to know how exactly someone else is doing. Yes, they might say, 'I'm fine' but that's not always the case. Even if I knew how my mom was doing, Mr. Ken is the last person I want to discuss that with. I feel like I've wasted a lot of my time already with this prick. I decide to ignore the question and turn back, heading towards the door. Just as I grab the handle, I hear a light knock on the door. I pull the door open and see Jesse walk in. We look at each other for a moment, with me wondering _how in God's name she knew I was here._ As if to answer my question, Mrs. I Don't know Her Name walks in right after Jesse. I look at Jesse again, hoping she can at least mouth to me what's going on. Only, she won't look back in my direction. She looks tense and her right-hand fingers are clenched into a tiny fist as she stands looking straight at Mr. Ken. She suddenly looks in my direction, and I finally see what's going on here.

Good girl gone bad.

I try not to smile.

# Chapter FIVE: JESSE

My cheeks flush as Bart studies my clenched fist, a grin tugging at his lips. He knows I hate violence. He knows I hate making a scene. Yet, today, here I am, having done both.

He knocks me with his shoulder, and glances over at Mr Ken who looks exhausted. "Hey thanks for the chat Mr Ken. It was magic. Call me."

Mr Ken shakes his head, and I smile through the ache of my fist, because I think he's being cheeky to help me relax. It worked. Mrs Jenkins walks with her hand on my back, steering me into the nurse's offices but I quickly catch a glimpse of Bart before he disappears out the door. He winks at me. What was he doing here? What is wrong with us both today?

"Jesse." The nurse stares at me. I don't know her. I've never been in here before. I turn to my PE teacher and she ducks out, leaving me to fend for myself. "Sit down."

I hold my twitching fist out at her, my fingers curled in on each other. "It's broken."

"It's not broken." She flattens my hand, flexing each finger."

I wince and a tear drops down my cheek. "Well, it hurts."

"Yes. It would." She puts an ice pack either side of my knuckles and bandages it up.

The door swings open and an angry Principal Allan strides in, blood splatters on his shirt. "Ms Stone, we have zero tolerance for violence in this school!"

I evade eye contact and watch the nurse finish clipping the bandage ends together. "I know."

He shrugs as he scrutinises my sheepish expression. "Why don't I know you? You're set to graduate this year, and I've never seen you before. Which mean you're either an excellent fake or you're not usually problematic. Which is it?"

I take a big breath, and I wish I was stronger. "She spoke crap about my family."

"Well, then you should have run her over."

I stare up at him and blink, and my brows weave.

Is he for real?

His stance is authoritarian as he grips his hips, his expression is tight. "You broke her nose, Ms Stone. She's on her way to ED now."

"I'm sorry," I say, and I actually mean it.

He sighs and clenches his jaw before walking over to me and pulling up a chair to sit right in front of me, and it's actually really awkward. Is this what principals do these days? Are teachers trying to be our friends? We're in high school! We have no friends.

He drills a hole through me with his eyes. "What did she say?"

I roll my eyes. "You don't _really_ care."

"I have to expel you," he states emphatically.

My pulse rushes through my throat. "No-"

"Then tell me what she said!"

"She said my brother's medical condition was sending us broke, and that my dad is unemployed, and we are going to lose everything."

He shrugs. "And now she knows she's right."

I lean back into my chair and hold the weight of my fist and bandage and ice packs, with my other hand.

He folds his arms across his chest, and it's an obvious 'mirror her behaviour' and I'm not stupid, I did year 11 Psychology. "You will be suspended, and she will get sympathy and now she knows exactly how to push your buttons. Was that your intent?"

I mutter the word, " _No_."

"Then maybe don't be what they expect you to be."

"I wasn't!"

He leans back as if my words had a punch and ponders for a moment. "2-weeks suspension, and I will try damage control with Mandy's parents."

My breath catches. "No, you don't understand I can't stay home. . . I can't."

"That _is_ a good deal, Jesse. Mandy's parents want you expelled."

" _No."_

# Chapter SIX: BART

"Aby and I will be at Debonairs this Saturday," Grace says. "You and Jesse should come with us. You know, like a double date. Our first double date. I'd love that."

I've known Grace since junior high. . .and only found out last month that she is a lesbo. I once asked her why she hadn't told me all those years ago, why she hadn't come out to me all those years. I asked her whether her sexuality made her feel ashamed and she said, 'I didn't want to acknowledge it because I was ashamed. Guess, I was just afraid of the social isolation that comes with. . .being different. But again, guess I was wrong because you're still my friend."

Yes, she's my friend. We're each other's friends. And while I've this stupid saying that, 'only girls are allowed to have best friends.' Well, I think Grace is my best friend. Have to admit I was a tad pissed with her for not confiding in me all those years ago, 'cause that only meant that Grace didn't trust me. How can you call someone your best friend if you don't even trust them? That day I just drove home and the next day, I thought through it. Turns out, no one is ever born a liar. Most people lie because of people. When someone says, 'I didn't tell you because I didn't want to jinx it,' I don't think that's exactly what they mean. No one believes that nonsense. I think what they actually mean to say is, "I didn't want my fake friends to find out because I knew they would start making fun of me if it all went wrong." So, yeah. Maybe Grace was just afraid of that social isolation. Maybe she didn't trust me because I wasn't always there for her back then. But, that's in the past. I'm here for her now.

I say. "Yes, sure. I'll let Jesse know."

Just then, Aby, Grace's girlfriend walks up behind Grace and wraps her arms around Grace's waist. Grace turns to face Aby and just like that, the two of them are kissing.

"I just never get it," Ben says, and it's only then that I realize that he had been standing here next to my locker with us all this while. "These people all claim to be lesbians but then end up using cucumbers and dildos. I mean, if you're going to use a dildo to have sex, then you might just as well use the real thing, don't you think?"

Grace stops kissing Aby and turns to look at Ben. "Uh. . .We're here, Ben. Literally here and we can hear you."

"Don't care," Ben says. "After all, at the end of the day, it's not like we're gonna hook-up or something."

Grace rolls her eyes at Ben. "Of course. It's not like anyone wants to hook-up with you."

"Uh, hello. Firstly, I don't date. Hate the drama. The commitments. The obligated late night calls. The holding of sweaty hands in school hallways. The kissing in public. How do you live with that shit? Secondly, I've my own bitches."

Grace rolls her eyes at Ben again.

Okay, so here's the thing. Its's not that I don't get to notice other girls. That would be a total lie. Anyone who says they do not notice other girls because they've a girlfriend definitely deserves a death sentence by hanging. I mean, I would be damned if I didn't admit that, Grace has sexy eyes. We once kissed, but, that's a story for another day.

So, yeah. I do notice other girls. What stops me from making out with them is simply because I appreciate what I have.

"Take me home," Jesse says, disturbing my thoughts and pulling me with her to the schools entrance/exit. I didn't even see her coming.

We reach where my car is parked, and I hear Stacey's voice calling behind us. "Jesse," but Jesse ignores her and walks to the cars passenger side. "Jesse!" she calls out again clearly out of breath. She finally catches up with us. "Oh My God, Jesse, what you did to Mandy today. . ."

"Fuck off, Stacey," Jesse says and gets in the car, slamming the door.

***

Whoever first said practice makes perfect is an idiot. Yes, idiot, because humans can't be perfect. I think the best thing that you can say about practice is that it makes. . .better. And Jesse - Jesse makes me a better person. We've so much fun together but clearly today isn't the day.

In the name of playing good boyfriend and lighten up the mood, I put on her favourite song and increase the volume.

She looks at me balefully. Then switches the cars stereo to FM mode. News is on and she hates news. But, to my surprise she doesn't dare change the station today. Instead, she increases the volume as if it's not already loud enough in here.

"You don't listen to news," I say to her.

"I do now. Helps me appreciate how I don't have it so badly and I kinda need that right now."

I switch the cars radio off. "Okay. . .Talk to me."

"Do you have a tampon?"

"Huh?"

"I'm moody. So, maybe I'm on my period. Besides, isn't that what you guys always assume when a girl is being bitchy? So why can't you just assume that right now and leave me alone."

I hate it when she gets like this.

"Okay, look. . ." I start.

"Don't you even try to deny. I saw you. I saw you smile. You knew I was in trouble, Bart, and you were smiling."

"Of course. You stood up to a bully, how could I not be proud of you?"

Another baleful look. Then she shakes her head. "Are we there, yet?"

"Where?"

"My place, are we there, yet?"

I sigh. "Almost there."

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. A few minutes later I pull over in her driveway.

She quickly opens the door, pecks me on the lips and says, "Sorry, about today. Don't call me, I'll call you." Historically, that always means I should call her.

She leaves my car and slams the door on her way out.

_Girls,_ I think.

# Chapter SEVEN: JESSE

I run inside and close the door, pressing my back to it and sliding down until my bum meets the tiles. I cry into my hands, the bruised one a big ball of material and defrosting ice parcels and swollen skin.

What is wrong with me?

Jake sits down in front of me and puts his hands on my legs, slapping the bare skin lightly.

"Patty Cake," he laughs and softly slaps them again.

I glare up at him through red stinging eyes. "No patty cake, Jake."

"Patty Cake!" he slaps my thighs harder.

"No. Fucking. Patty. Cake."

He slaps my thighs so hard; I cry from the sting.

"No." I jump up and jog upstairs to my room, slamming the door behind me. I want more than anything to just forget about today and fall asleep and start fresh tomorrow.

Except I can't.

Tomorrow I'm not going to school.

Tomorrow I have to stay here, with my mum, and Jake. I strip off my skirt and pull off my shirt and pad across the room to my bed in my underwear. I snap a picture of me sitting in my bra with a pouty sad face and text it to Bart.

I caption it, 'I'm Sorry.'

A few seconds later my phone bells. 'Talk to me.'

Sandy, my kitty cat, jumps up onto the bed, and the vibrations of her purrs warm my leg. I text. 'I got suspended.'

It's heading towards dinner time and Bart always seems to disappear around dinner time, so I strip off and step into the shower and rinse the shitty day away. I tilt the shower faucet so it's away from my bandages. My head meets the tiles.

Several moments later my mum yells at me for being in the shower to long, and so I step out and meander bare footed across my room, searching for clothes, and then hear my phone chime.

'What did she say?!'

I sit and contemplate the message, and then I look out over the roof tops and watch a blur of reds and oranges bleed down until there is only black.

He's the only thing in my life at the moment that means anything.

My fingers find the buttons as I breath long steady breaths, "You should sneak into my room tonight."

# Chapter EIGHT: BART

I stare at my phone's screen not believing what I'm seeing.

'You should sneak into my room tonight'

Is this. . .I rub my eyes and look at the screen again. Yep. . .same old words. Well, this is new. Jesse has never asked me to sneak into her room before. Like, ever. Could this be. . .No. Maybe she just wants to talk about what happened to her at school in real life and not through a screen. But, what if it's. . .Well, then better be safe, right?

I grab my notebook resting on the nightstand and check what's on my to do list.

SMOKE A JOINT

I quickly grab a pen and scratch that one off. Below it, I write, 'SHAVE BALLS'. Then quickly run into the bathroom.

***

Five minutes later, I'm out of the shower, all dressed and walking to what used to be my dad's study room with a mission. When I arrived home this afternoon. Mom wasn't around. She's still not around. Probably went on a date with her new lover or something.

When I was five, Mom and Dad used to go on dates a lot, leaving me with no one but a, 'Bart, your mom and dad are gone now. Why don't you sit on that chair, watch TV, and I'll call my boyfriend and we'll have sex on your parents king size bed,' for a nanny. Not that she used to say those exact words to me, but one day when Mom and Dad were away, I heard strange noises from upstairs and decided to go and check. I ran upstairs quietly and found my nanny on top of her boyfriend going at it on my parent's bed with her gigantic tits bouncing. That was the first time I'd seen real tits, by the way. Both my nanny and her lover didn't see me. So I quietly left them as I came. The next day, I told Mom all about it, and my nanny immediately got fired.

But, before all of that. Before the day, I sneaked up on them. Before she got fired. I'd walked in my father's study room to see if I could find his computer and play some video games. I couldn't find his computer but ended up finding his porn collection and a bunch of condoms stuffed in an open drawer.

I know no one has touched his stuff since he's been. . .gone. So, they have got to be here somewhere. The condoms of course.

***

I open a couple of drawers. Nothing. Another one. Nothing. Only two more drawers to go. I sigh and open one and holy. . .they are here. I breathe, then grab one pack and check for the expiration date.

Expired.

Fuck. Only, one option left now. Go to a pharmacy store and buy some.

***

I park in front of a chemist and climb out of my car.

Wait. . .what if. . .what if I'm overthinking all of this? What if, Jesse went through my pockets and finds a pack of condoms? What will I say to her?

When I was young, growing up, my late grandpa told me that, 'a man is not complete without at least a pack of condom on him.' I can use that. Yes. . .She will probably just laugh it off or call me a perv. Yeah, Jesse has a sense of humour.

I walk into the store and walk up to the front counter. Thank God, there're only a few people in here. Not that I would care if there were many people, I mean, we're humans. There's nothing wrong with being randy.

"Hi, how can I help you?" the man at the till asks. He's a grown man with a few grey hairs.

God, do you need an ID to buy condoms. I hope not. I'm only seventeen.

"Uh. . .I'll will have a pack of condoms please," I say confidently.

"ID please," he says.

"What?"

"Just kidding," he laughs. "You should have seen your face."

Yeah, yeah, fuck you. I bet he does that to every seemingly young customer. I force a smile. "Yeah. . .Ha! You got me there."

I hand him the cash and he hands me the change but keeps hold of the pack of condoms. "Good choice," he says waving the pack in the air. "Believe me, they're all sweet and funny until you get them pregnant. The moods, the 'I want this', 'I want that' ugh. . .The only benefit you get out of it is that you get to feel big warm boobs. . .well, and a kid of course. Other than that, psst, it's all hell. Parenthood is. . ."

Fuck. I snatch the pack from him and leave the store.

***

Ten minutes later, I'm in Jesse's neighbourhood. I pull over and park the car at least ten blocks from her house.

I climb out my car and start on my way to her house.

Wait, she said tonight. Not now.

I stop in my tracks. Retrieve my phone from my trousers pocket and check the time. 30 minutes to 10pm.

I walk back to my car and decide to wait for thirty minutes. To pass time, I pull out my phone and start watching GIFs. Cat GIFs. My favourite.

There's one showing a cat napping in an apple tree between two big apples with a caption reading, 'napping between two apples.'

'Napping between two apples,' my mind registers what it means, and I chuckle.

***

I check my watch. Fifteen minutes has passed. I sigh. Fifteen minutes remaining.

***

Tap tap

Someone taps on my cars window. I look up and see two police officers. What now.

I roll down the car's window.

"What?" I ask.

"We're gonna need you to step outside," one of the officers says. "Is this your car?"

"Yes. . .It's my car and I'm not going to step outside, sorry."

"Sir. . ."

"How do I know you're not just an axe murderer or ritual killer or something else entirely?"

"Entirely?"

"Yes, like a zombie or something."

He tags the side of his shirt and shows me his badge. "Now step outside please."

I do just that.

"Hands where I can see 'em."

I do that.

"Turn around, put your hands on the car and don't move."

"Dad," the other officer says. "Is this really necessary?"

Wait, I know that voice. . .I recognize that voice. Is that. . . "Ben?" I ask.

"Bart," he replies.

I turn around to face them. Yep, it's Ben.

"What are you doing in this neighbourhood?" Ben asks.

"Why are you in a police uniform?"

"It was my dad's idea," he says, sweeping his hands in the air. "I'm on a ride along thing."

"Oh, you didn't tell me your father is a police officer."

"Wait, what?" Ben's dad asks. "You didn't tell your friend I'm a police officer? What, are you ashamed that your father is a police officer? Oh, I see, I see, all the, 'leave me just around that corner, I'll walk the remaining mile,' when I'm taking you to school, is that? It's all because I'm a police officer, huh?"

"Yes, no!" Ben says. "I'm not ashamed of you Dad. It's just that you're this. . .this conventional person who always thinks it's his job to put everything right. You're all cop every time and everywhere. At home, at. . .Everywhere. For Christ sake you're always in that cop uniform, even at home on Sundays."

"Uh. . .I think I'm gonna go." I say.

"No," Ben's dad says. "Stay right there young man. Police orders."

"See, what I mean?" Ben says. "That, exactly that. He didn't even do anything."

"He's been parked here for over twenty minutes, isn't that suspicious enough?"

Ben shakes his head. "Have it your way. I'm going back home."

"Come back here young man!"

Ben keeps walking away.

"I can't even tell you that I smoke weed because I know you're gonna go all cop on me," Ben shouts.

"You what?" Ben's dad shouts back, now following Ben. "No parent would be happy to know his son smokes. Ben, come back here. It's a long way home, come on, I'll drive you and we can talk about this at home."

Ben stops in his tracks and starts walking back to where his father's cop car is parked.

Ben's dad turns and looks at me. "Don't think you'll get away with this next time, young man," he says and trots off to his car.

***

A minute later, I'm walking up to Jesse's house. Another minute I'm in their backyard facing Jesse's bedroom window or at least I think its Jesse's bedroom window.

I text her. 'Outside, but. . .which one is your bedroom window again?'

# Chapter NINE: JESSE

My belly feels funny; not sure if it's because I moved food around my plate instead of actually eating any or whether it's because Bart is outside my window. Sandy is still curled up on my bed, and I peer around my room to make sure there is nothing embarrassing laying around. He's been in my room before; plenty of times. Never at night. Never with the door shut.

I moisten my lips and text him: 'I'll flicker the lights.'

I walk over to the light switch and listen as it clicks on and clicks off and clicks on and off again. I switch on my bedside lamp. My hands tremble as I unlatch the window and it's ridiculous my body is responding this way because . . . it's Bart. My Bart. He's seen me _nearly_ naked before so I shouldn't be this nervous.

Why now?

I'm sure he'll want to know, or maybe he'll just know I need to feel close to someone and replace the shit with something real; maybe he won't care either way. He's a boy. They just want to do it. We are so connected sometimes maybe he'll see straight through me, that knowing smirk on his gorgeous face, and he'll figure out that it's because I don't want him to spend 2 weeks at school without me unless he has a _true_ understanding of what's missing. Maybe it's because I'll miss him so much during the day; maybe I need to stop _maybeing._

There is a tapping sound coming from my window and I adjust my nightgown, flattening the pink cotton down my stomach and thighs. He slides the window across and steps inside, looking a little rattled.

I try to act nonchalant and smile. "Are you okay?"

"Ben's dad is a fucking cop. Prick just pulled me from my car."

"Oh my god, what were you doing?"

He pauses for a moment. "Watching cat gifs."

I laugh at him and my stomach does a little flip. He grins at my nightgown and grabs my elbow, pulling me in for a sweet chaste kiss. "So. . ." he pushes my hair behind my ear and strokes my cheek. "I got your booty call."

"Stop it, Bart." I say, my cheeks heating beneath his touch. "It wasn't a booty call."

He tilts a brow at me. "What was it?"

"A booty _text_." I shrug and giggle, and he likes that comment because his grin spreads across his face.

"You gonna talk to me now? Or do you just want me for my hot bod?"

My smile tightens a little. "I punched Mandy in her stupid Mandy face."

"Yeah." He nods, looking pleased. "I got that part. Why?"

"She talked shit about my family, and Jake." In all this time we've been dating. He's never met my brother. I hide my brother; it's true. He knows about Jake because he's seen the marks from when he's hit me, burnt me, bit me.

He looks at me deadpan. "Okay."

"And you and me," I admit and glance at my bare feet on the carpet.

"What'd the bitch say about us?"

"Just basically called me a prude. You know she likes you?"

"That's what this is about?"

"No. Yes. _Maybe."_

He might be hesitating right now because he's frowning, deep in contemplation. I kiss him and his face softens, and his arms go around me.

We take off our clothes and I start to tremble, my skin covered in little Goosebumps. We slide into my bed, and Sandy jumps off with a meow. He pulls the covers up and leans over me to turn off the lamp.

"No." I barely get the word out. "Leave it on."

His eyes widen slightly and then he smirks at me, studying my expression. I'm probably whiter than usual. He's so cocky sometimes. If he's nervous at all then he's hiding it really well. He leans in and presses his mouth to mine; he kisses my cheek; my chin; my neck; back to my lips. We are breathing hard and fast between kisses. He's excited already, I can feel him against my leg. I stoke him a little and he groans, and we wriggle around beneath the sheets touching each other. _Oh god_ , what is he thinking right now?

I break our kiss. "I know we don't like the word. It's dumb and means nothing. I know that. We speak through our actions. I know, I like that, but I want to say it anyway. Can I say it? Will it freak you out? I'm rambling. I'm sorry."

"It won't freak me out."

"I love you, Bart," I say so quickly it's barely 4 independent words, and then I kiss him with desperation.

# Chapter TEN: BART

"Ow ow ow," Jesse says wincing.

"Should I stop?"

"No, wrong hole."

"Huh?"

"Wrong hole, wrong hole, that's my urethra." She grabs my dick from underneath. "Here, let me guide you."

I nod. I don't want to admit it. But it's my first time.

"Okay," she says nodding a moment later while kissing me.

"You sure?"

She nods and lets out a slight moan.

***

"Huh," I say breathing heavily after coming.

"Well?" she asks.

"I'm glad you had an altercation with Mandy."

Jesse rest her head on my chest and chuckles. "Oh, yeah?"

I feel like I can stay like this forever. I love this feeling. The feel of dopamine rushing through my veins. Laying naked like this with Jesse. It's a dream come true. "Hey, you don't mind if I stay a little longer, do you?" I ask jokingly.

"Well, you're not a hooker, Bart, are you?"

I laugh. "Was thinking of becoming one as a part time job before college."

"Well, then you would make a pretty good male hooker," she says, running a hand gently across my chest.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say and she laughs.

I like this. I love us. "I love you," I say, and I mean it.

She looks up at me, and her soft lips find mine. "Took you long enough," she says smiling.

"Remind me to say it first, next time. Hey, there's going to be a next time right?"

She laughs. She laughs so hard, I worry her parents might hear.

"Shhh," I say putting a finger over her lips.

"Don't worry; Mom and Dad are fast asleep."

She kisses me. "But for your safety, I think you should go now?"

I smile, and kiss her back. Then get off the bed, and start dressing.

All dressed. I turn to face her and find her staring. "What?" I ask.

"Nice ass for a man," she says.

I chuckle. Then walk to her and plant another kiss on her lips. I wish I could stay. But, she's right, I've got to go.

***

I'm at my locker the next day getting a book for my next class when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn around. It's Ben.

"What are you smiling at man," Ben asks.

Of all the people, I could tell I had sex last night; Ben is just not one of them. I could tell Ben now and in the next 2 minutes, the whole world would know.

"Can't a person just be happy? I mean, it's fucking Friday! School is off for the weekend."

"Right," he says. "Sorry about last night man."

"No, it's okay. I understand." I don't.

"No seriously, had I not acted up and left. He would have arrested you or worse, tased you."

"Tased me?"

"Yes, like," Ben demonstrates acting as if he's being charged with electricity.

"Yes, I know what a taser does, Ben," I say. "I just don't get the why part."

"Why? He's a cop, they always feel as if they are obligated to do that, and he's my dad." He pauses "Sometimes, when I'm having one of those rides along with him. I see him slip drugs into a person pockets and accuse them of being in possession of drugs. The person always denies, but you know, he has slipped the drug in their pockets. You get the drill, right? The drugs are on you, even if you say you know nothing about it, well, you're busted. He would have done the same thing to you, if I hadn't acted up."

"Shit."

"Yeah," Ben says. "Shit. What were you doing in that neighbourhood anyway?"

"Nothing, just needed a bit of air," I lie.

"Right," he says, "and you're smiling again."

"Am I?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "See you in class then," he says walking away.

"Uh. . .Yeah."

Wow, I've always thought that Ben has got it all together. I know about the drug-selling thing, but he is always. . .happy. Could that be the reason he smokes? Because he can't keep up with his dad? Fuck. Guess there's no such thing as a perfect family after all.

***

My next class is Math. I walk into the classroom and see Grace beckoning me to sit next to her. I walk to her and sit next to her.

"So, badass of a girlfriend you've got there, huh?" she says smiling. "Heard she sent Mandy to the ER."

"Shut up," I say.

"Well, tell her I'm proud of her for me, will you?"

"Don't start Grace."

"What?" she asks still smiling.

Mr. Eller the Math teacher walks in. He greets us all and writes the topic of the day on the board.

TRIGONOMETRY

I like him. He doesn't waste time and start telling stories like Mr. Ken my biology teacher. Mr. Eller is always right up to business. I like him even though I don't like math. I mean, so what, if I know about the hypotenuse. None of that shit can help me solve problems in real life. I like sciences better. At least sciences are more practical. But who am I kidding? Science wouldn't exist without math. So, maybe the fucking hypotenuse is important after all.

# Chapter ELEVEN: JESSE

I cuddle myself below the covers and grin. My mind drifts to the feeling of his hands on my skin; his smell.

He loves me. . .

That dumb meaningless word. . . I love that dumb meaningless word!

My hand covers my face and cheeks as I smile too hard. It's embarrassing. I reach for my phone and dial Stacey. . . _Fuck_ , she'll be in school. I want to tell someone.

I hear a car door slam out the front and move to the window, pressing my cheek against the glass to see who is out there. My pulse races when I see Mandy's very pissed off mother storming towards the house; Mandy trails slowly behind. There is a taxi waiting for them in my driveway.

Does her dad drive a taxi?

Don't they own a car?

Mandy's face is painted in blue and green and red. Her mother bashes the door with the base of her fist. I wince when my mum appears and wait for her to yell my name. She doesn't. I can't hear them, but Mandy's mum is really laying into mine, and Mandy is cowering behind her. I reach for my robe and wrap it around me. My feet take me towards the front passage, but I stop just out of sight and listen intently.

My mum's voice is calm. "You will not be speaking to my daughter today."

Mandy whimpers. "Mum, just stop-"

"Mandy don't you dare backchat me!" Her mum growls. "I want to speak with Jesse."

"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen Linda. I will discipline my child, and you can discipline yours."

"I demand you pay for our hospital bills. Your daughter has cost us over $2000 in hospital bills."

My mum sighs. "Linda-"

"No Janice! I will sue you!"

Mandy sounds desperate. " _Mum_!"

"Shut up, Mandy!" Her mum yells. "I am fixing your mess."

"Linda," my mum speaks softly. "I was about to say I will write you a cheque."

She pauses. "Oh, well good then."

" _Mum,_ can we go."

"God damn it, Mandy, you're an embarrassment to me. You have a big mouth and you need to learn to shut it. I'm so disappointed in how you turned out."

My eyes are wide, and I'm gripping the wall so hard my knuckles are white. Mandy's mum is such a bitch. I can't believe it. I actually feel . . . sorry for her. The door shuts and I hear a car drive away.

"Jesse," my mum's voice is so cool it's chilling.

I step out from behind the wall.

She glares at me. "You got suspended?"

I nod. "Yes."

Her face is tight. "Because you broke a girl's nose."

" _Yes_."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Why?"

She has that don't mess with me look in her eye, so for once I decide not to. "Because she teased me, about Jake, and Dad, and other stuff."

She walks straight at me and envelops me in her arms and I'm so stunned I just stand there, arms loose by my side. It takes me a few seconds to hug her back but when I do, she begins to cry on my shoulder.

# Chapter TWELVE: BART

When you wake up in the morning, what's the first thing that comes to your mind? When asked this question. People always assume there's only one satisfying direction to take to answer this question 'cause stupid fucking self-help books always tells us that we should always wake up with a smile on our face. Which, if you ask me, I find a little bit unrealistic and insane because it's not, like, you always have a choice in the matter.

Like, this morning, I'm thinking about whether people one day will make something that will fully satisfy them without needing any upgrades or whatever. I'm thinking about how in the end, all people ever do is try. Like how the owner of Facebook may be raking it in now and how a few years from now someone will develop something that's really better than Facebook and Instagram. How people will ditch Facebook and how in the end, all what the owner of Facebook ever did was. . .tried.

I'm thinking about how for people who are used to love unconditionally. . .family seem to have a lot of conditions. 'If you marry from that family, I swear to God I'll kill myself,' or 'you should study medicine, your dad did medicine.'

I'm thinking about how people always address life in third person rather than as something within us. Something that's us. How they always describe it as if it's something that happens to us and something that's out there. 'It's life,' or 'get a life.' I'm thinking about how people would rather blame something out there than admit they are the cause. I'm thinking about how people can go their whole lives pretending things didn't happen. About how my dad died and how Mom never wants to talk about it, because she knows it was her fault. About how when an addict dies of an overdose, it's never considered suicide.

***

I stretch, yawn, throw the covers off me and jump out of my bed. Then I go straight into my school backpack and retrieve a small bag Ben gave me. Inside I expect to find at least one rolled up joint, but darn, there's nothing. The darn thing is empty.

When I was young, one day, my grandpa pulled me to the side smiling and said, "You know how to live a long life?" I shook my head. "Curiosity. Stay curious. Always ask questions. If you don't, you'll lose interest in the world and the world'll lose interest in you, and you'll just kinda slip apart from one another. Being alive's like being married. You've to put in some effort, or there'll be no magic left." I remember giggling for I didn't understand anything.

I usually like my trail of thoughts, but, it's Saturday and I had sex, like, two days ago. I need to chill.

I grab my phone resting on the nightstand and text Ben.

Me: hey man, you good?

To my surprise he texts back almost immediately.

Ben: cool

Me: will u b a bro and bring me some of that gud stuff, I've run out

Ben: cool

Me: meet u at Debonairs then, 8pm?

Ben: cool

That's how it is with Ben when it comes to texting. Always uses a few words to make it clear that he hates texting. He'd rather send you a voice note than text you. I once asked him why he hates texting and he said something about it being too much work.

I throw the phone on the bed and walk into the bathroom. I brush my teeth then strip off and walk into the shower. I turn on the faucet and feel warm water run across my body. I tilt my head up, close my eyes, and let the warm water run across, over my face, and down my body. Suddenly, I start thinking about Jesse and me making love. My dick gets hard and I know I'm about to have a really long shower. I grab the soap; rub it around my dick and start jerking off to the memory of Jesse and me the other night.

***

45 minutes later, I walk out of the shower and start dressing. All dressed up. I walk out of my room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Apparently, Aunt Gwendoline who usually takes care of things like breakfast and manages house chores is not in yet. I fix myself a bowl of cheerios and sit down.

Moments later my mom walks in, still in her nightgown. "Morning," she says to me. I ignore her and don't reply.

She walks to the fridge. Opens it and grabs a bottle of wine. She grabs a cup from the cabinet, pours some in a glass cup and sips and then she looks in my direction and finds me staring. Clearly, she can see the disgust on my face 'cause she asks, "what?"

"Really, seriously Mom? Wine, it's barely even 10am." Then I have a flash of me desperately searching for a blunt in my backpack this morning. I'm no better than her, but at least I know how to hide my wrongs.

"Yes, I'm an adult," she says sitting down.

"Yeah, 'cause apparently day drinking is perfectly appropriate and not at all a sign of early onset alcoholism."

"Oh, please," she says.

A minute later, her boyfriend walks in the kitchen wearing nothing but boxer shorts and gives her a kiss on the lips.

Disgusted, I walk to the sink and drop in the dishes. Then I see a book resting on the counter. I grab it and start riffling through the pages. It's the book I've been looking for, Grace forced me to buy it last month saying it was one of her favorites and that I would enjoy it. I've been meaning to read it, but, I misplaced it and couldn't find it. Guess Aunt Gwendoline might have found it somewhere around the house and decided to leave it here on the counter.

I flip to the first page and start reading to see if it's that interesting. A moment later, I flip on to the next page.

"Now you go on burying your head in a book like that all day and before you know it, you'll be all wrinkled and only have your hand for company," I hear Mom say and her boyfriend laughing.

I close the book and look in their direction.

"Books won't attend your funeral or your wedding celebration," Mom continues without realizing how dumb she sounds. "Go out there and make friends, not standing there wasting the miracle of youth. You'll have plenty of time to read anything you want when you get old."

Mom can be so dumb sometimes. 1. Why would I care about how many people attend my funeral when I'm actually dead? 2. I do have friends and a girlfriend. 3. That says a lot about how much she actually doesn't know about my life. 4. And with the wedding thing, one can just post on Facebook these days, people will see and people will come to the wedding.

Her boyfriend is still looking at me and laughing. Disgusting. I turn and walk out of the room to my bedroom 'cause I've decided that this is an interesting book and I'm going to read at least a couple of chapters before heading out for Debonairs pizza with my friends and my girlfriend that my dumb Mom doesn't know about.

# Chapter THIRTEEN: BART

Time passes by so quickly. Something that I've noticed starts happening as you get older. I put down the book, grab my car keys from the nightstand and quickly run down the stairs.

I bump into Aunt Gwendoline.

"Hey, Bart," she says. "Made you a smoothie, your favorite, strawberry and vanilla, shall I grab it for you?"

God, I love her. "Yes, sure."

She disappears to the kitchen and then emerges back with a cup in her hands. She hands the cup to me and I drink the whole thing in one gulp with an aah. I pass the cup back to her. "You're the best Gwendoline. I love you."

She smiles. Then reaches out her hand and touches my face.

"Haven't seen much of you lately, everything all right, sweetheart?"

I smile. Then grab her hand and kiss it. "Everything is fine."

She smiles back.

"Is Mom still in?" I ask.

"Oh, she just left with. . ." she pauses.

"You can say the word, Aunt Gwendoline, it's okay."

"With her boyfriend."

"Figured as much," I say. "I'm also heading out. Will be back in a few hours, but I guess you'll be gone by then, so. . ." I give her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight."

"Take care," she replies.

***

10 minutes later, I'm walking up to Jesse's house. I knock on the door and hear shuffling through the door.

The door opens. It's Jesse's mom.

"Hi, Bart," she says.

"Hey, Mrs. Stone."

"You're here for my beautiful daughter?" she says smiling.

"One and only, ma'am."

She opens the door wide for me and shouts. "Jesse, your other boyfriend is here!"

I walk in and clear my throat. "The other boyfriend?"

She chuckles. "Just kidding."

I smile.

"Take a sit," she says pointing to the couch. "Can I get you anything? Like, water?"

"No, your daughter is enough, ma'am."

She smiles and disappears to the kitchen.

A minute later, Jesse appears walking down the stairs.

"Wow," I say, 'cause I know it will make her smile.

She smiles and says. "Stop it, Bart." Then she shouts. "Mom, we're heading out now."

Her mom emerges from the kitchen and says. "Back before 10."

"Promise," Jesse replies.

***

I start the engine and wait for Jesse to fasten her seatbelt.

Last time she was in my car, she said something about how she now listens to news.

I switch on the radio. A song is playing.

"Uh," I start, looking at her. "I can switch the channel to today's news if you want?"

She punches me lightly on the shoulder and starts laughing.

I pull out of her driveway then put on her favorite song and she immediately starts singing.

I smile and start singing along with her.

***

I park the car in the crowded parking lot and Jesse, and I hop out of the car at the same time. We walk into Debonairs and I immediately see Grace standing and beckoning us forward.

"What took you guys so long?" Grace asks.

"The weather?" I say joking, and she rolls her eyes at me.

I sit down and Jesse sits beside me.

"You guys ordered anything, yet?" I ask.

"I meant it when I said you guys are late," Grace says.

"I'll take that as a yes," I say smiling.

***

A few minutes later, Ben walks in with a girl that looks to be in her thirties or late twenties by his side. He walks to our table and says hi.

"God, did you have to invite him?" Grace says looking at me.

"If it's any consolation, I'm not staying for long, just here for my man, Bart."

"Is that who I think it is?" Grace asks pointing her chin to the woman standing next to Ben.

"Who?" Ben asks.

"A hooker?" Grace says. "There's no shame in that Ben, everyone uses their body to make ends meet. Some use their hands, some use their legs, some use their brains and some use their vagina."

"Geez, she's my aunt, have some respect, Grace," Ben counters.

"Actually," the woman interrupts. "I'm a sex worker."

We all stop eating and look in her direction.

"Figured," Grace says, standing up. "Anyone else with a tiny bladder here?"

Aby and Jesse stands to join her and the three of them leave the table at the same time.

Let's go to the loo together. A girl's thing I never get.

"Tiny bladder," Ben says after a while, sitting down. "That code for tight pussy?"

"Let it go, Ben," I say.

Ben smiles. "Ain't Bridget a fine ass, Bart," Ben says meaning the hooker or sex worker or whatever.

"Yep," I say. She's not bad.

"Used to work at Sephora and then she quit and decided to set out and become her own boss," Ben says and the woman smiles. "Impressive huh?"

"Yep," I nod, because it's the only thing I can do.

"I like her 'cause she only has two rules," Ben says.

"Yes," the woman replies looking at me. "No kissing, and no blowjobs without you putting on a condom," She continues. "Just got a new pair of tits yesterday," she turns to look at Ben and winces. "So you can't touch 'em aww." She pouts her lips.

"She's the best," Ben says.

"Ben," I say. "The stuff."

"Right."

Ben reaches into his pocket and removes a small plastic bag. He passes it to me across the table. Inside are five already rolled up joints. I grab the bag from the table and quickly put it in my pocket, and then I pass some cash to Ben.

He smiles and stands up. "See you at school man."

I flash him the peace sign, and he walks off.

***

A minute later, Jesse, Grace and Aby emerges from the bathroom laughing at whatever Grace is saying.

"Your dork friend gone?" Grace says sitting down.

"Yeah," I say standing up. "I'll get the car."

"Coming with you," Jesse says.

***

We reach where the car is parked and Jesse grabs my hand. "Hey," she says. "Sorry I had to chuck you out the other night. Just that Mum can be so strict sometimes, and she'd kill me if she knew I had a boy stay over, and I think my dad might have heard us whispering, but I don't think he'll do anything. So how about next time, we just find a better place."

I pull her close to me unable to restrain my smile.

She notices my smile and says "Perv."

I pull her closer, tilt my head a little and kiss her.

# Chapter FOURTEEN: JESSE

It's Monday and the beginning of my first week at home with my mum and Jake. I go downstairs after 8:00am and find them at the breakfast bar which is usually empty because I'm usually gone by 8:00am, but there they are, eating cereal. Jake is in his chair and my mum is helping him shovel milk and cornflakes into his mouth. I try to forget what it was like to have her crying on my shoulder. She smiles at me, and I grin awkwardly at her and reach to switch the kettle on.

"Jesse's home!" Jake yells, grinning at me with cornflakes between his teeth.

Mum taps his arm. "We have to make the most of it. We don't have her highness for long."

I scoff. "What does that even mean?"

Mum sighs. "Just that you're going back to school again soon."

"Whatever," I mumble and pour myself a coffee.

I slump down on the chair opposite them and text Bart, 'don't have too much fun at school without me.' I tap the display with my pink fingernail and notice a chip in the polish and cringe; perfect Jesse is losing her touch. I watch my phone, willing it to buzz. Nothing happens.

"So, Jesse," my mum says, eyeing me suspiciously. "What do you plan on doing today?"

I glance at her. "Movies?"

She smiles at me dubiously. "Think again."

"Colleen Hoover?"

"Think again."

"Ugh." I roll my eyes and stare at my phone again. "Well, why don't you tell me?"

A grin takes over her face. "I was thinking you could come with Jake and me to his art class. I know Jake would love-"

Hell no.

"Mum, don't make me sit in a room full of disabled teens all day," I moan.

Her jaw drops and she stares at me, every part of her dripping in disappointment. So is her default expression when it comes to me. "Jesse, your tolerance level disgusts me."

I stand and walk over to the fridge and stare inside even though I don't want anything to eat. I often do this. I have no idea why I walk to the fridge and stare inside as if there are answers. It's an idle activity. A time filler. "Well, I'm sure that's not all that disgusts you about me."

"Actually it is," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your brother idolizes you and you just don't see it."

I stare at Jake who is now moving cornflakes from my mum's bowl and into his and then back again. He is in a zone. I could throw a scrunched-up piece of paper at him and he'd just continue on his mission. "No he doesn't."

"What's with the attitude today, madam?"

I slam the fridge door. "I'm Sorry! I just miss Bart."

She rolls her eyes. "How could you possibly miss him? You spent all weekend with him."

Ugh!

She doesn't get it. Has she forgotten what it's like to be a teenager! To be a teenage girl with a hot boyfriend. To be a teenage girl in love. "I usually see him every morning. I don't even know if he'll come by after school." I wander over to her and sit down. She has a tear in her eye, but she wipes it away before it falls. "I'm sorry, Mum," I grumble.

"That's okay. Please come to art class with us?"

"Fine." I stare at Jake as he paints the tablecloth with milk and we both just let him. "Mum?"

She swivels in her chair to face me. "Yes?"

I exhale slowly and sit up straight because that is how mature responsible people sit. They don't slouch. Teenagers slouch. "I'm thinking about maybe, taking," I stammer. "That step. Ya know? That step, with him, with Bart."

Her eyes become saucers in her face, and she darts her attention to Jake, who is oblivious, and then back to me. "Oh. Wow. . .Um. Okay. Wow."

My legs jig under the table. "Say something else."

She rubs her temples and then smiles tightly at me. "Well, you're seventeen, so I suppose that's a normal time to start considering these things."

"And?" I hold my breathe.

"Um, wear protection?" she says with a shrug as if she has no idea how to navigate this conversation. "Be safe. Bart is a nice boy, but he can't be trusted to bring a condom. You need to."

What the fuck?

I stare at her wide eyed and blink in time with my anxious pulse. "Seriously? You're not going to talk me out of it?"

"I was your age when I first. . . took that step. I'd be a hypocrite if I told you that you're too young. If I didn't like Bart so much maybe I'd have more of a problem, but I like him, just be very safe."

"Oh." I lean back and feel a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. "Okay. I will."

"And tell me when you do." She shakes her head. "Actually, don't. . . actually do. Don't tell your father. Ever. Even when you have children one day. You're still a virgin."

I laugh once and then nod. "Okay."

Next time I will pretend it's the first.

Bart is going to freak when he finds out I literally just got permission to have sex with him!

# Chapter FIFTEEN: BART

It's Monday again, and I'm in class sitting, waiting for my chemistry teacher to show up when three guys seated in front of me start talking about Laura.

"Want some advice, Brian?" one of the boys says.

"No," the boy I'm guessing to be Brain replies.

"I've seen you around chicks, Brian," the second boy says, "you're as subtle as a boner in church."

Honestly, I don't know why all these guys get all worked up about wanting to date Laura. She's hot, yes, but rumor has it that she had sex with seven guys last summer. At once, yes. And no, it wasn't fuckin' rape either. I know, right? Exactly my thought.

"You want to ask Laura out," the second boy continues. "She wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire, but since you aren't on fire, she just might."

"Asshole," Brian says.

"Asswip. . ."

"Dudes," I snap, "shutup, or at least keep it down."

They ignore me and carry on exchanging insults. Highschool is such a cliché. I pull out my phone and stuff headsets in my ears. Adele's 'Hello' starts playing. I let it play. It's been long.

A minute later, I see a figure up my face. It's Brian. I remove one headset from my ear and look up at him.

"Hey Bart," Brian says. "How do you ask a girl out?"

I scoff. He ignored me when I politely asked them to tone it down a bit. So I do the same. I stuff the headset back in my ear and increase the volume.

I see him mouthing a few words at me and then eventually he gets the idea and walks away.

'How do you ask a girl out?' I smile. The question has got me thinking about how I met Jesse.

It was last year; I was just a sophomore and happened to be the new guy. Didn't even have friends. Well except Grace. Reason I had transferred to this school in the first place. My former school had nothing but bunch of dicks for students. You know how rich kids can be. At least here, I knew Grace, who wasn't a dick.

I was walking to my table during lunchtime in the school's cafeteria when I noticed a beautiful girl sitting alone at a table. She was reading a book. I walked up to her and asked, if I could join her. She said, 'sure' and scooted a bit to the edge of the seat for me to sit. I sat down, and introduced myself. She smiled and said her name was Jesse. Then I asked her why she was all alone, if she was new as well. She said, 'I'm not alone, I've this,' meaning the book. I tilted my head a little to see what she was reading. Holy Bible. I cringed. Girls who read the Bible in their spare time are not generally likely to want to go over to the park and make out. 'Are you reading that for one of your classes?' I asked, hoping she would say yes. 'Nope,' she said. 'I try to read it every day, especially when I'm away from my church.' She looked smug, as if daring me to have a problem with that. I soldiered on. Some of those religious girls liked to be bad. If she so happens to be a catholic or SDA, then I have my chance. If she happens to be a JW, I might as well just have walked away. So I asked her, 'so what church do you belong to?' she said, 'JW' and then looked at me and laughed out loud 'just kidding,' she said, 'you should have seen your face.' Turned out she was actually reading the book for her Religious Education class. Said she had a test in the course. I smiled and asked for her line. She looked at me for a moment and said, 'okay.'

I look up from my phone only to find empty seats in front of me. Where's everyone? Has the class been, cancelled? I guess so. Got carried away with my thoughts there. I remove my headsets and toss them in my backpack. I stand up, grab my backpack, wear it over one shoulder, and leave the class.

***

Hi, Bart," a girl says to me as I'm walking in the school's hallway to my locker.

"Hi," I reply.

It's a get used to it kinda thing. One of the perks of being my father's son is that people I don't know get to say hi to me, like a lot. Sometimes I wonder whether the only thing that makes me noticeable is only because everyone knows my father was rich. Another perk of being my father's son is that I'm rich as well. My father left me a huge sum of money I'll be able to access when I turn eighteen. Which is only a few months from now. He also, left Mom some cash and the house, but, with her recent behaviors, it's only a matter of time before she runs out and decides to sell the house. I've been thinking of small pathetic but beneficial ways on how I'll invest some of my money when I get hold of it. Either using it for my college tuition or changing the world. By changing the world I mean, maybe open a local library or bookstore because I know books can change the world. Or maybe open a tattoo parlor because everyone wants to get a tattoo these days, or maybe use some of it to buy Jesse a car as a birthday present, but I don't know how her parents might react to that. I haven't told Jesse about the money, yet. I think I should. She might have some brilliant ways of investing it.

I enter my locker's combination and pull the door open. What course is next? I check my timetable. Biology with Mr. Ken. Clearly not a class to miss. I'm not planning on missing any class this week. One reason is that I need to at least, earn good grades in case I change my mind about going to college. The second one is that Jesse is still on that two weeks suspension. So, I need to attend every class and tutor her in some of the classes she's missing.

"Uh, Bart," someone says tapping my shoulder. I turn around. it's Ben. He looks tired. He has bugs under his eyes and he's scratching his balls.

"Are you okay, man?" I ask.

"Yeah," he continues scratching. "Uh. . .No. I think I've an STD. Bridget, that bitch."

"You had sex with Bridget?"

"Yeah, what else do you do with a hooker?"

"Well, didn't you at least use protection?"

"Uh," he stops scratching for a moment, then starts again. "She said she was clean."

"A hooker told you, she was clean and you believed her."

"Friends don't judge man, if I knew you'd be this judgy I wouldn't have come to you. Couldn't tell my dad. You are the only person that knows now. It's just an extra itch, I was hoping you could drive me to a hospital or something."

"Okay, I'm not judging, but there are about a thousand girls at this school, can't you just ask one of them out?"

"Uh huh, but I always hate the question, what's your story? Like, you'll breakup with this one, meet the next, and they will ask you the same question. How many times are you going to tell your story? Honestly, I think there should be a revision to first date conversation topics, that's when I'll start dating."

"That's like saying; I'll not look for a job until they reinvent the job interview."

"Will you man, you don't want my death to be on your conscious, do you? When you could've saved me."

Darn. This means, I've to miss some of my classes. Fuck. I'll catchup anyway.

"Sure. Now, let's go before someone sees us and ask us where we're going."

# Chapter SIXTEEN: JESSE

I stare at the pink stick figure on the canvas. The yellow stars, white dots, rainbow, and the words written by his teacher, 'my sister, Jesse.'

It's quaint. Colorful. Bright. Optimistic. Literally everything I am not. A roll of emotion hits my belly.

I bite back tears.

I'm not upset he painted me wrong. I'm upset I'm not what he painted.

My feet seem to take me down the stairs to where my dad is slumped on his recliner. "Dad?"

He shoots up, disorientated, tea spilling on his shirt. "Ah. Jesse. Yes?"

I hold up the painting. "I need a nail."

He rubs his eyes. "What?"

"And a drill."

His hand waves at me to move closer. "You need a drill? What are you up to?"

"There are little hooks on this side of the canvas." I flip it over and point. "You're meant to hang them on something. A screw. . . or something?"

He looks at me and smiles. "Where do you want to hang it?"

"In my room."

****

I twirl my hair around my finger and watch my dad hang my portrait. He grins at me and leaves with the hammer and nails. It's fucking 8pm and Bart hasn't replied to my text message and he didn't come to see me. I suppose something more important came up. I think I'd like to try again soon, maybe go on top. I'm athletic; I think I could handle 'mattress gymnastics' as they call it. I'm a bit at odds with the fact he hasn't tried anything since. He's spoken about it, but I think he's being a gentleman and waiting for me. My phone buzzes, and my pulse is racing with excitement when I pick it up.

My pulse dies.

It's not Bart.

I stare at the phone. 'I missed seeing you at gym today.'

I blink at the screen.

Who the fuck is messaging me? I don't know this number.

I text back, 'I'm sorry? Who is this?'

A response comes through immediately. 'I like it when you wear those short skirts.'

Ugh. I text, 'Go away!'

They are on speed or something because the messages keep pinging. 'That skirt is sooo short. I can see your white innocent underwear.'

Seconds later. . . ping. 'I can see the shape of your pussy through your underwear.'

Ping. 'I've always like the shape of your pussy.'

I shudder. My fingers slide over the display on my phone as I reply: 'Seriously? Do you not know my boyfriend? Bart. Back off.'

I wait for a few moments and then my eyes widen when I read the next text. 'Yeah. He was with me all night. But while he neglects you. I think about you!'

# Chapter SEVENTEEN: BART

As soon as I switch the engine off, I'm surrounded by the silence of the forest. Looking out the window, I see the tall, quiet trees that line the road.

The same tress that were the only witnesses to the accident. If they could talk, they could tell me what really happened.

Getting out of the car, I look both ways but, of course, there's no sign of life. Hell, there's probably not another soul for miles. This road cuts straight through the heart of the forest and serves no real purpose other than to offer an alternative route out of the city. Nearby, a sign warns drivers to watch for wildlife that might wander onto the tarmac. I still remember the night when a man from the council phoned to tell Mom that, after careful consideration, a sign was going to be erected in an attempt to avoid a repeat of 'this terrible tragedy.'

Finally, I realize that I'm holding my breath again. Sometimes I have to actually remind myself to breathe in and out, as if my motor responses have tendency to pause themselves. I wander away from the car, making my way toward the exact spot where the accident happened. There's still a gap in the tree line here, although the stump of one tree remains in place to serve as a reminder of the impact. Looking down at the surface of the road beneath my feet, I squint a little as I realize I can just about make out the tire marks, even after all this time. Then again, maybe they're just in my mind.

Maybe I've started to crack up again.

I take out a joint from my trousers pocket and light it. I puff in a little smoke and let it sink in.

Before I can even finish my blunt, I hear a distant thumping sound, like some kind of collision.

I turn and look back toward my car, then at the trees on the other side of the road.

Silence.

There's some part of me that wants to dismiss the sound I just heard, but I know it was real, I know it was something out in the-

Dear god, not this again.

"Bart!" A voice shouts from far away.

I freeze. My mind is racing as I tell myself over and over again that the voice was just my imagination. There's no way it can be him.

"Bart!" Dad's voice calls out again. "Help."

"You're not real." I reply. "My therapist told me, you're not real."

"Help me, Bart. This is your chance. You couldn't help me then, but you can help me now," my dad's voice shouts again.

"I can't," I reply trembling. "I couldn't have helped you. My therapist told me that I couldn't have. I was miles away when the accident happened, it was Mom who was driving and I-"

"Blame me," I hear Mom's voice reply darkly. "Why not? It's the easy way out, isn't it?"

This isn't real. "You're not real."

I throw away what remains of the blunt and start walking to my car.

"You're no different from your mom. You're walking away. You can't even dare to call 911, just like she didn't."

"Stop, please, stop."

Although I try to argue with him, I'm forced to lean down against my elbow as my chest tightens and tightens. Sweat is now dripping down my face. I need another smoke. Yeah, just another blunt, and I'll be okay.

Finally, I stand up and let out a gasp. My vision is blurry because my eyes are tear-filled. I wipe them and walk to my car. I pull the door open and get in. I close my eyes for a bit and breathe in. I need to stop making these trips. And I need to start seeing my therapist again. I can't lose myself. I can't lose Jesse. If Jesse finds out I'm a total wreck, she'll leave me. And right now, I can't imagine a life without her. She's the only thing that connects me firmly to earth.

# Chapter EIGHTEEN: JESSE

I'm in a deep sleep when I hear a ticking sound. I know this because I imagine it's a ping pong ball and I don't have a ping pong table nor do I play ping pong, so the fact I think someone is playing ping pong in my room is my first clue I'm asleep.

The ticking sound continues.

My eyes bat open, and I stare at the clock through low lashes. 3-am.

What the fuck?

The ticking continues.

I sit up and rub my groggy eyes, before glancing around my dimly lit bedroom. Nope, no ping pong table. I slide off the mattress and wander over to the bathroom to check for a leaking tap when I hear the tick come from my window. As I cautiously approach the sound, I see a face peeking through the curtains and my breath gets lodged in my throat.

Fuck. It's Bart.

I thought it was that weirdo who's been messaging me. I mouth, 'what the fuck' and walk over to let him. He jumps in through my window and collapses against me, his arms trembling as they squeeze me around the middle, his face burying into my hair, and I think he lets out a little sob.

"What the fuck, Bart? Are you okay?" I embrace him and he sobs again. His chest is frantic, and his lips move to my neck and kiss their way up to my chin, and his hands begin to paw at me. "You're not getting out of it that easy-" He swallows my words and walks me backwards to my bed, my knees buckling on the edge of the mattress and we fall down together. I kiss him back and I taste his salty tears. His lips move to my neck again and then to my breasts, and I'm not sure where this confidence has come from but he's taking what he wants and it's sexy as hell. My nipples ache as he bites them through my shirt. "Bart," I pant to the ceiling. "You have to talk to me. Please."

He stills on top of me and then rests his head on my chest. "I hear my dad's voice sometimes."

I wince at the ceiling and brush his hair with my fingernails. "Oh, Bart."

He buries his head a little further into my chest. "He blames me."

"No, he doesn't. That doesn't even make sense, you weren't in the car."

"I know." He nods against my chest. "But I hear him say it sometimes."

My lips are suddenly so dry. "When?"

"I go back there," he mutters, his lips moving against my shirt.

"Where?"

"To the accident."

"Oh my god. Don't do that. Don't punish yourself like that-"

"I see a shrink."

I falter and my silence seems to upset him because he's groaning now.

I hesitate with what to say. "Um-"

"So, you don't like me anymore because I see a shrink?"

"What?" I squint at the ceiling and stroke the back of his head. "Of course I do."

He jumps up. "I shouldn't have come here."

Sitting up, I watch him move towards the window and begin to climb out. I'm on him before he can get one leg over the windowsill and I cup his cheeks, pressing my lips to his. He freezes and sighs against my mouth. I kiss him hard and pull him over to my bed, push him down and crawl on top of him. His eyes get wide while I pull off my shirt, panties, and then undress him. He lays there and lets me take control.

I make love to him slowly; roll my hips on him like they do in the movies. I try to show him just how much he means to me. I like watching his face while we do this. I like the way his eyes scan my whole body and then close every now and then when it gets intense.

He lifts me, pulls out and cums on my thigh, and I know that we were careless, but I also know I'm about to get my period any day, so I won't be ovulating.

And he needs my love tonight.

And I don't have any condoms.

I'll get some tomorrow.

# Chapter NINETEEN: BART

I'm feeling so confused. And no, it's not because I've just left a math class. It's not a new feelin' either, although it has been growing more noticeable the last few days. When I'm with Jesse, the urge to smoke fades into the background. When I'm with her, I'm high on love and feel no need to artificially induce a good mood. Now that she's still home and I'm here at school. That urge has been killing me slowly. I almost told her everything last night, but I don't think I'm ready. I had excused myself with her inability to reply and we ended up making love. But I'll tell her, eventually. I've scheduled up a meeting with my therapist this afternoon, hopefully it will help.

I stop in my tracks as I notice the person standing by my locker. Laura. What the fuck is Laura doing leaning against my locker. Have they assigned us new lockers or something? I walk up to her.

"Hey," I say to her.

She quickly turns to look in my direction. "Hey, Bart! I've been waiting for you."

I frown. Since when? "Okay."

She steps close to me. "Look, I know this is going to sound weird and all but," she bites her lower lip. "We're both seniors, and prom is just around the corner and you're not bad looking and I'm beautiful and hot. So, I was thinking you would maybe like to go to prom with me. I mean, who would make prom queen and king than us, right?"

I shake my head. "No thank you."

"Why not?" she says moving even closer and starts running a finger across my chest. "I'm hot." She squeezes her ass, smiling.

"Yeah," I don't want to say she doesn't have a personality, because she does have a personality. Everyone has a personality. Hers is just not enough. "Exactly that, Laura," I lamely add, stepping back a little.

She steps forward. "Exactly what?"

"The rumor? That you slept with seven guys," Not that I want to go to prom with her, but I'm interested to hear what she's got to say about that.

She laughs. "What?" She looks up at me and sees that I'm serious. She grabs my hand. "Okay, so what if I slept with seven guys? A boy will do exactly, just that, and people will label him a hero. A girl does that and she's a slut?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then make up your mind darling?" she says smiling, moving even closer.

I step back. "Laura, I'm really sorry, but I'd never go to prom with you. Not in a million lives. And second, I've a girlfriend I love and-"

She steps close again and slaps me hard across the cheek. "No one ever says no to me. And second, fuck patriarchy." And then she storms off running.

What the fuck?

"Hey," a voice calls from behind me.

I turn around. It's Grace.

"Are you okay?" Grace asks.

"Uh," I realize I'm holding my cheek. I rub my cheek a little before dropping my hand to the side. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Guess what?" she says.

"School is cancelled?"

"Try again."

"You just got a tattoo of my name across your arm?"

"What? Why would I. . .Anyway, so, my parents are going away this weekend and I'll have the whole house to myself and it's been long since I hosted a party. So, Saturday at my house, 5pm, party."

"Uh. . ."

"It's not a question, Bart, please let your girlfriend know," She says and walks away.

What's with everyone being so uptight today?

***

"Hello, Bart," my therapist says. "Good to see you again."

Money parasite. "Good to see me again? You'd rather see me come here? 'cause coming here means I'm not okay."

She smiles. "Of course not, but we're here for each other, Bart. I'm here to help you and in return, you help me too."

Whatever the fuck that means.

She continues. "I got your call. Let's start by talking about how you don't want anyone knowing that you see me. Why don't you want anyone to know that you see me? Are you ashamed?"

"It's not that," I reply, shifting a little on the sofa in her well-lit office. "It's just....It's my business. I don't feel need to tell everyone that I have regular sessions with a therapist. The last thing I want is to be pitied on. It's been six months, I should get over it, but.... I can't."

She nods. "Why should you be over it?" She asks, pausing as if waiting for me to answer. "Bart, your father died in a horrific car accident. Do you think you should be over it after six months? And what does, 'over it,' mean anyway?"

"I just want to be able to move on. I don't want it to be still haunting me."

"That's an interesting choice of words," she says, fixing me with a stare. "Tell me about this latest nocturnal encounter. You said you heard a collision, and then your father asking you to help him, and then what?"

"You think I'm crazy."

She shakes her head. "We're all crazy, I believe, just in different ways. I think you miss your father. It's normal to miss someone."

"You think, me hearing my father's voice is normal?

"I suspect what you're experiencing, more or less originates in the relationship you had with your father, around whom I believe you felt safe and loved. So, yes, you miss him and you think if you were with him during the accident, you could have helped him. The voices you hear are not voices at all but rather your own thoughts. I believe you suffered a severe trauma surrounding your father's death."

She continues. "Still on the first question though. I'm pretty sure there are people in your life that you think you can trust. Like your girlfriend. Why don't you want your girlfriend to know that you see me?"

"I don't play football, I'm not a musician, my grades have been sinking. The only interesting thing I do is read, which if you ask me is equivalent to breathing because almost everyone reads."

"So, what I get is that you think you might lose her because you think of yourself as not special. But, tell me Bart, would you rather you played football?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. The thing is I tend to overthink, and find many things stupid. Like, basketball. It's like, one day someone lined up a bunch of crazies and asked them to transport a ball in the silliest way possible and one of them ended up bouncing the ball. I mean, why not just play ball like normal bipeds? But again, I do get it, because, like, where is the fun in being normal."

"So, you think you're ordinary?"

"No. No one is ordinary, not really. People always label people who settle down, have kids, and wear khaki shorts as ordinary. But there's nothing ordinary about wearing khaki shorts and playing ball with your kids in the park. If wearing khaki shorts were ordinary, then everyone would be wearing khaki shorts. Not everyone can be a good parent."

She nods. "Is that what you worry about? That maybe one day you might not be a good parent to your child because your mom was never a good parent to you? Let's talk about your worries, let's talk about fear. What's your greatest fear?"

"Dying with regrets?"

"What sort of regrets?"

"I worry that, if I keep using my dad's death as an excuse to do what I do, I'll end up doing more than just what I do. Like, I dunno, maybe try heroin, or cocaine, and then turn into an addict like one of those cliché rich people's sons who either dies of an overdose or end up in rehab."

"I don't think you'll end up in rehab, Bart. Realizing that you've an addiction problem is the first step to recovery."

"I'm not saying I'm an addict. Yet. It's Just that, weed alters the way I experience my emotions. I need it. I need that shit more than your prescribed drugs."

She nods. "Sounds like a start of an addiction then. You're on a stage where you think you can't control your feelings without the help. . .effect of uh. . .marihuana. Slowly becoming reliant on it. But look, everyone needs someone to confide in. Someone who will always be there for them, someone they trust. Like your girlfriend."

She continues. "Do you know what the problem is? The problem is that young people always go into relationships under the illusion of happiness and love. But relationships are more than just about happiness and love. Same with being a doctor. When has happiness ever done anything for anybody? Happy people don't stay up all night trying to work out a cure for cancer. Happiness just like sadness is temporary, so why should it be anyone's main goal? On other hand, what is love without trust and honesty? If your girlfriend loves you, she will stay with you and support you."

"I tried to tell her about it last night."

"And?"

"And, we ended up making love. She fucked me actually."

She smiles.

I continue. "The thing is sadness just like laughter is contagious. I can't bear the thought of her worrying about me. I don't want her to be sad because I'm sad."

"That's what relationships are all about, Bart. Being there for each other."

# Chapter TWENTY: BART

"Wow, I didn't know Grace had so many friends," Jesse says to me as we walk in Jesse's house. It's fully parked and crammed and looks like the party started a long time ago. It's also pretty loud in here.

I look at my wristwatch. Fuck. We're 1hr:30min late. Grace will be so pissed.

"Well, that's Grace for you," I say to Jesse.

I wrap my arm around Jesse's shoulder so that I don't lose her in the crowd as we look for Grace. I spot her sitting on a couch in the lounge room next to Aby and a couple of female friends I have never met. And guess she has seen us as well, 'cause she gets up and start walking towards us.

"Hi, guys," Grace says when she reaches us and hugs Jesse. "You're late, again. But I'm glad you could make it."

Grace pulls away from the hug and stares at me. "Where's my present, Bart? You didn't forget it's my birthday, did you?"

"Huh?" I say looking at Jesse and then back at Grace. "It is?"

"Fuck you, it's not, but even if it was you wouldn't have brought a present because you don't even know when my birthday is. Gosh, you're such a bad friend."

"C'mon," I say pulling out my phone from my trousers pocket. "I'm pretty sure I wrote it in here somewhere." I tap on the calendar icon and go on events. Then I search for Grace's birthday. "9th August, there."

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me. She grabs Jesse's arm pulling her forward. "Come with honey. Bart, get the pretty girls some drinks, will you?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I'll do just that. Not that you asked but because I'm a perfect boyfriend and best friend. You hear that?!" but they've already been engulfed by the crowd.

I turn and start my way to the kitchen, excusing myself through the crowd. I reach the kitchen and immediately spot cold drinks on the counter. I grab myself a blacklabel, for Grace I grab a flying fish and another flying fish for Jesse.

I find Jesse, Grace and Aby sitting next to each other, with Grace in the middle and Aby and Jesse on her sides, with a bunch of other girls on the opposite couch. I walk up to them. Knowing Grace, I'm pretty sure she's gonna try and say something weird about me. And I might be good when it comes to one on one conversations but once a lot of people are involved, I tend to not know what to say.

"What took you so long?" Grace says grabbing the drink from my hand. I pass the other flying fish to Jesse and sit next to her.

"Guys," Grace says addressing a bunch of girls with us. "This is Bart, Jesse's boyfriend and my best friend."

I flash a nervous smile to the girls.

"Now, I know these two have been having sex, but none of them wants to admit it yet, but I've been there. I know when two people have been doing it," Grace says smiling at me then continues looking at Jesse. "Jesse, tell us about Bart's penis. How big is it?" she asks. "Is it this big?" she flashes the flying fish bottle in Jesse's direction.

Jesse looks at me. She's kinda smiling. Now I know even if Jesse replies to her question. Grace won't let it go at that. She'll next ask something weird like, 'who came first when we were doing it,' or 'how bent is my dick. Is it upward bent, sideways or downwards?' So, I shake my head to Jesse. She gets the gesture and changes the subject, "So, how long have you guys known each other?" she asks, meaning the other girls. Then she sips her beer waiting for Grace to answer. Yes, she's that smart.

Grace looks in her direction and start talking about how they met at a certain function, blah blah, how the girls helped her come to terms with her sexuality, blah blah. I tune off and on to their conversation. Like I said I'm not really good when it comes to group chats and since none of what they are saying concerns me, I've every right to keep quiet.

After a while, I find everyone looking at me.

"Hey," Jesse says. "You okay?"

"Uh. . .Yes. What's up?"

"Grace just asked you a question and you've been quiet for, like, thirty whole minutes."

I look over at Grace. "What did you say Grace? You know what, I need another beer." I stand up and walk away before Jesse stops me and says that I'm still not done with my first bottle.

***

I walk back into the kitchen and open another bottle of black label. I drink this one rapidly. And open another one. I take a sip.

"Hey," a guy says walking up to me. He smells like weed and cigarettes.

"Lousy party, huh?" He says.

"And who the fuck are you?" Because he just called my best friend's party lousy.

"Relax man," he says. "I know Grace is, like, your best friend but it's good to be honest sometimes. Adam," he stretches out his hand.

"Bart," I stretch out my hand and shake his.

"I know," he replies.

"What the fuck do you know?"

He scoffs, and I feel like punching him.

He reaches through his coat's pockets and retrieves a blunt. He puts it in his mouth and lights it. He takes three puffs then pass it to me. "Want some?" He asks.

"What's that?"

"Weed."

I hesitate and think about what my therapist would say. Well, fuck it, she's a dumbass. "Fuck it," I say.

"Here," he says passing it over.

I put it in my mouth and draw in deep puffs. The blunt is done before I know it.

"Whoa," Adam says. "Such a big smoker, are you?"

It's my turn to scoff. "What do you want man? You're not gay, are you? I mean, you're good looking but I've got a girlfriend."

He laughs. "Hey, have you gone for that career guidance thing in the counsellor's office?"

"Not yet."

"Me too." He says. "Scared, my grades are bloody low."

"Hey, it's not like she's a psychic or something. None of that shit she says is true."

"Yeah, you're right. Such a wise man."

I laugh and grab my already opened bottle of black label from the counter, but it slips through my hand, hits the floor and breaks.

Some people in the kitchen turn and look at me. "Well, it's never a party 'til something breaks," I say. They turn and look away and some cheer.

I squat down and start picking up the broken pieces. One cuts through my hand and it starts bleeding.

"Fuck," I say wincing.

"Hey, man. Are you okay?" Adam squats down beside me.

"Yeah," I nod.

"A party is one place where you can break something, make a mess and expect someone else to clean it up for you. Leave that be. Let's get you a bandage, shall we?"

I look up at him. He looks at me. "Who're you?" I ask. Without warning, he leans in and kisses me.

I push him back and he trips and falls down banging the cabinet. I look in the people's direction to see if anyone saw, but none of them is looking in our direction. "What the fuck man?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that you looked so vulnerable and. . ."

I stand up. Shaking my head.

I turn and start walking away.

"Sorry man."

I turn back to him. "You can't just be kissing people like that, Adam."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just that...I'm attracted to both girls and boys. I've kissed a girl before but I've never kissed a guy and you just happened to be there, looking so sad, so, I. . .I just wanted to be sure, you know. Whether I truly like both girls and boys."

I try to calm myself down. "I get you Adam; you've got to be true to yourself, but not like that."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm sorry."

I nod back and start walking upstairs to the bathroom.

***

I reach the top of stairs and open the first door I find. Nothing, looks like a pantry. I walk ahead and open the next one. Not a bathroom. I walk forward again and find one with a sock hanging on the door. I push it open and immediately see Grace and Aby kissing on the bed. Grace turns in my direction and beckons me forward. As if she wants me to join them. What? Am I high, or Grace has just invited me for a threesome? I settle for high and close the door. Then I walk ahead and find another door. It's a massive house. I push the door open. Finally, a bathroom. My hand is still bleeding. I hope it's not infected.

I walk into the bathroom.

"Ah!" A voice screams.

I turn and look where the scream came from and find Laura squatting in the bathtub peeing.

"Bart," she says.

I frown.

"What?" she says. "It's not like you've never peed in the bathroom before, like, while having a shower or something."

I turn and look away. "Yeah, I bet you flash tampons down the toilet as well."

"Well fuck you. There's pee everywhere on the toilet seat."

I hear her stand.

I turn and find her washing her hands.

"Hey," she says moving forward to where I'm standing. I step back. "Relax. Ha! Why are you guys always afraid of me? I mean, I'm pretty, guys shouldn't be afraid of me. They should be attracted to me. Why're you afraid of me, Bart?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Well, if you didn't have a girlfriend. Would you, like, go out with me?"

I shake my head.

"Why?"

Why does this sound like a trap? "I dunno."

"C'mon, it's my reputation isn't it?"

I find myself nodding.

She shakes her head. "Well, tell you what, Bart? I think you're a liar. It's not my reputation that would bother you if you were to start dating me. It's what people would start saying about you that would bother you the most. Those people don't even know one tiny truth about me. Boys are either shying away from me because they think I'm too pretty and girls don't want to talk to me because they think I'm mean, loud and have a bitch face. I'm not even mean, it's just that I talk too much and, in the process, end up saying something wrong. I can't change alright, I mean, sure there are some parts of me I can change. Like attitude? But this is me. I've perky boobs, wide hips and a great ass. So what? That doesn't define anyone. Why do you boys have to sexualize everything?"

"You mean the, 'you had sex with seven guys?" I ask.

"That's a lie." She says. "It's just a hearsay. But even if I was to stand up and say it's not true. You guys wouldn't believe me. Because to you. Every girl that looks hot is either not a virgin, has a boyfriend and is a slut."

I say nothing and just looks at her.

"I'm not a slut, Bart. I'm a virgin. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have all this," she says pointing at her hips. "Because that means I'll have real friends and a boyfriend who truly loves me and just doesn't want to sleep with me."

I nod. "I didn't know you felt that way."

She smiles. "I don't blame you."

She holds my eye for a few seconds and then start walking to the door. "Hey, Bart." She says. "You're a good listener and you're lucky to have someone who truly loves you like Jesse."

She exits the room and close the door behind her.

***

I find Jesse still sitting on the couch in the lounge room. She's alone. I walk up to her.

"Hey," she says when she sees me and stands up. "I've been calling you, where have you been? And what's that smell, have you been smoking? What happened to your arm?"

"Come with me." I wrap my arm around her waist, guide her through the crowd to the kitchen, and then walk out the back door where the pool is. I sit down beside the pool, she sits down next to me and says nothing.

"I," I start. "I've got something to tell you."

She nods.

How do I start? I breath in deeply and begin. I tell her about my visiting of the accident site, about me seeing a therapist, about my mom, about my marihuana use. I tell her everything, and she listens without interrupting.

"And also, some dude tried to kiss me in the kitchen today, but, I pushed him," I say upon finishing.

I look at her. But she's still quiet, as if she's letting the information sink in.

She turns and finally looks at me. "You kept all this from me, Bart?"

"I'm sorry. . .I dunno, I thought, if you found out that I was a mess, that. . .you would. . ."

"What, leave you?" She hold my face, and scoots closer to me. "I already know you're a mess Bart, we all are, it's part of perfection, a part that makes us unique and strong. You're my mess."

I smile. "You're my mess too."

"Come here, pothead," she says and hugs me. Then she leans in and kisses me. "I love you," she says between the kiss.

I say nothing. I don't have to. She knows how I feel. She's my mess. We're each other's messes. I love her.

"Hey," she says pulling away from the kiss. "Wanna go to your car and have sex? I've a pack of condoms in my purse just for moments like this."

I smile and kiss her as we stand up.

"How supple, are you?" I ask jokingly as we're walking to my car. Running actually.

"Very supple."

"Like, 180 degrees flexible?"

"Wanna find out?"

# Chapter TWENTY ONE: BART

The next morning, I wake up to the smell of something delicious. Is that, bacon?

I toss my bed covers aside. Jump out of bed and make my bed. Then I walk into the bathroom. Wash my face and brush my teeth.

I leave my room and walk down the stairs to the kitchen, where I find Mom, making breakfast.

I frown at her.

"Morning," she says.

I don't reply. I haven't spoken to her for days. She's been trying to make small conversations with me. Like, going through the attic and shoving baby pictures of me in my face, and I keep ignoring her.

"Well, you came home late last night, and the other night. Wanna tell your mom who the new catch is?"

I shake my head. "I've got a girlfriend Mom, and she's not new. If you were a good parent, you would know that."

"Well, you should invite her over one of these days. What's her name?"

"None of your business?"

"Aww, such a cute name."

I shake my head. Grab a cup from the cabinet and start pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"So, when will I get to meet her?"

"Since when do the people I hung out with concern you?"

"Uh.... Since I gave birth to you. C'mon, sit down. Talk to your mother," she says pulling a chair and sits down. "Come on."

I shake my head and start walking away to the door.

"Oh, Bart," she says. "What did I ever do to you?"

I turn to her. Furious and annoyed. "What did you ever do to me?" I scoff. "What the fuck Mom? How about starting by talking about Dad's death for example. What happened that night? Why couldn't you call 911 when you saw that he was dying?"

"I," she starts, and I can just about make out tears forming in her eyes.

"Exactly," I say and start walking away.

"You wanna talk about your father," I turn back to her and see tears streaming down her face. "Your dad was schizophrenic."

"I don't believe you."

"He started becoming delusional. Kept saying that he was a spy and worked for the CIA. And that night," she looks at me. "That night....it wasn't me who was driving. Your father was driving. And he had one of those psychotic episodes. Something about someone chasing us. Tailing us. That's when he hit the accelerator and sped through red lights. He took a wrong turn and that's how we ended up on that forest road. I kept telling him to calm down and pull over. But he just kept going on about someone tailing us. And then before we knew it, we hit an antelope and the car went spinning and hit the tree. I was wearing a seatbelt and he wasn't. I'm sorry I didn't call 911." She's crying. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I know, it's my fault. I knew he wasn't okay and I kept on pestering him to take me to these fancy dinners that all my friends were going to... I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She walks to me and tries to grab me in for a hug, but I step back.

This doesn't make any sense. Dad was schizophrenic? Is that why I've been hearing these voices in my head? Am I schizophrenic as well? No, it can't be. My therapist has all my health documents. She would have told me if I was schizophrenic. Why would she keep such a thing from me?

I look up at Mom. She's still crying.

When I was young. I remember Mom and Dad coming back from one of their night out arguing. I don't know what they were arguing about. But, I remember Mom coming to my room that night. I remember the exact words she said to me.

"It's your fault," she said. "Your father doesn't love me anymore because of you. You ruined me. I'm fat now because of you. I should have gone for a C-section or whatever, or much less, just aborted you. But no, I wanted to please him, I wanted him to love me. And he doesn't anymore because you ruined me. He's now looking at other women because of you."

Mom might've been able to fool the police, but she can't fool me. She's a snob. A cliché. She only cares about herself. Those tears are nothing but for her own benefit. She's probably one of those people who gets married to a rich person and then kills him and gets away with it. Or is this just a part of me being delusional like my father? Like how Mom puts it?

Whatever it is. I know she's a manipulative liar. I can't wait to turn eighteen and leave this house. Living with Mom isn't healthy. She's not good for my mental health. She's the reason I hear voices. The reason Dad died. She could try and pin it on whomever, but I'll never believe her. She's only saying these things about Dad because she knows he's dead and can't defend himself.

She's the one who's delusional.

I turn around and walk away.

# Chapter TWENTY TWO: Jesse

Before Bart can knock on the door, I'm swinging it open and giving him a serious look.

He blinks at my expression. "What have I done?"

I laugh a little. "No, nothing. I just" - I lean in and hand him my phone- "Do you know this number?"

He stares at the number and then reads the messages and his lip twitches. "Yeah. It's fucking Ben. I'm gonna kick his ass!"

"Ugh. He's so gross."

Bart stares at the screen, his brows drawn in tight. "I can't believe he texted you this shit."

I smile at him. "Doesn't matter. Now I know it's him, I'll tell him he revolts me." I keep grinning at Bart because he's scowling at the phone as if he wants to break it and it's so cute to see him all protective. He slowly hands the phone back to me and then looks up at my grinning face, shifting his eyes around nervously. "Why you smiling at me like that?"

"Because I just told my mum that we're having sex. Lots of sex."

His eyes widen and I swear he goes ashen. "No you didn't."

I nod. "She wanted to know. And she is going to buy me condoms every few weeks, and I'm going to go on the pill, so ya know. . ."

His eyes get even wider. "Fuck off."

"No, I'm deadly serious. But. . .you have to marry me now, though."

He swallows. "What?"

I crack up laughing. "I'm kidding. Well, about the marriage stuff anyway. My mum does know we are fucking."

"Shit."

My eyes take him all in and now that I'm very familiar with what's under his clothes, he's so much hotter to me. I hope he feels the same way about me. My skirt is extra short for him today.

I wave my hand and shuffle my feet. "Come inside. I want you to meet someone."

I've been working myself up to do this since the first time I told him I love him. Since we first made love. That is when we went from casual boyfriend girlfriend status to so much more. And I don't want any secrets. Not anymore.

He narrows his eyes at me, a questioning curve to his lips. "Your brother?"

My heart speeds up because the answer is yes, and I'm really nervous Jake will say or do something that will be embarrassing, and Bart will get weirded out. "Yeah." I clear my throat. "I mean only, like, if you-"

"Of course I want to meet your brother, Jesse."

"Okay. It's just. He's kinda slow, and it can be awkward."

"That's cool. What happened to him?"

"He has Cerebral Palsy and Prader-Willi. Which is like so unlucky, they are both really hard core. Prader-Willi is a mental disorder, but it does affect his body, but the Cerebral Palsy is why he's in a chair."

"Okay. Cool. Let's go."

"Are you sure?" I say, my cheeks getting hot with premeditated embarrassment.

Bart watches my throat roll and then entwines our fingers, leading me into my own house and towards the kitchen. He's helping me through this. He reads me like a book. I'm surprised he's never pressured me before now, but I guess he respected my feelings on the matter. We round the living room and then we are standing across from Jake, and I cringe when I see he's covered in cornflakes and milk.

Bart lets my hand go and walks over to Jake, casual and confident. "Hey man. I'm Bart. Your sister's boyfriend. Apparently, you're the man of the house and I need your permission to date her. What do you say?"

My cheeks pinch with how wide my smile is right now. My heart flipping around.

Jake laughs from his belly, and drool comes out of his mouth. Bart doesn't seem to care. He sits next to him and leans on the table as if they are buddies. "So, is it a yes? Can I date your sister?"

Jake claps his hands. "Jesse has a boyfriend!"

Bart nods and smiles at me. "I think that's a yes, babe!"

THE END

# About NC Harris

I write dark romance novels.

Because this short story could have been anything, a thriller, a mystery, I feel I inadvertently steered poor Andre' into the romance rapids and he got caught in them.

This experiment was a lot of fun. I had no idea what Andre' was going to write and therefore it combined the thrill of reading something new for the first time with the joy of creating a story.

If you're interested, I have one full-length novel available and another weeks away from pre-order.

FACING US: A Dark Contemporary Romance. (Can be purchased from Amazon)

**Trigger Warning**

He's desperate to remember.

She'll destroy everything to forget.

BLESK Bellamy is a beautiful 21-year-old musician with a dark past that always seems to corrupt her future. She's starting her first year of university and has secured a job playing at the local campus bar. Her brother and father worship her, and although she has suffered loss, things are finally looking up. . .

When Blesk sees Konnor for the first time she finds his presence captivating. He is gorgeous, intense, cheeky, and enigmatic.

KONNOR Slater is a charismatic 22-year-old grad-student who spends his spare time drinking and screwing his problems away. Konnor is a popular, university rugby player who hides his scars behind a wall of charm when in truth, he is completely lost. . .

When Konnor sees Blesk for the first time he finds himself in a strangely familiar daze. She captures his attention and makes him feel something he thought he'd never feel again.

The attraction between the two is undeniable. It borders on frenzy. Crazy. Impulsive. Two people who have worked their whole lives to find freedom and peace, seem to have found the opposite within each other. Intensity. Volatility. And it all threatens to expose what they have tried to escape.

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If you FOLLOW me in real life, please bring cheese.

# About Andre' Mwansa

You're clearly not interested, are you? Well, if you are, and enjoyed this short story, check out more of my books at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/andre4

And please care to leave a review . Here I've made it easier for you. https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1039306

