October Academy

Chapter 8

In Architecture, our teacher passes us large sketch pads and details our first assignments. We are to design a tree house. Pretty cool.

I open the first page of my sketchpad and start working on my assignment, spreading my pencil case and note pads over the two desks I have taken for myself.

Mid-sentence, the teacher is interrupted by the door opening.

"Late again, Mr Kane," the teacher says.

Great, now I have to give up my extra desk since it's the last free desk left. I sigh and glance up, locking eyes with Darcy.

Fuck.

He takes the seat beside me. Barely looking up. The teacher passes him a sketchpad then looks at me and tells me to explain the assignment to him.

I start to smile and begin explaining, "So basically we have to-"

"It's fine, I'll read the task sheet."

"Oh, you sure?"

"I'm sure." He keeps his eyes trained on his sketchpad. His hand curls around the desk and grips it hard. He seems stressed – or am I just annoying him? Ugh, why do I care? He's so hot and cold.

"If you want, I can show you-"

"Really, Jade, I don't give a fuck."

I bite my lip. Hard. Too embarrassed to say anything, I turn away and focus on my sketch. I feel sweat pooling in my hand as I grip the pencil.

Did I totally imagine that he was being nice to me at the abandoned train yesterday? Didn't he say he was sorry for hurting me? Now he's acting like an asshole?

"My fucking bad," I mutter under my breath.

I open up my phone under my desk to emergency text Perry. When I open snapchat, I see news that a class action suit has begun against Incredible Industries after leaked documents about child trafficking.

The awful reality of that sinks in for a moment, a queasy feeling settles in my stomach. How do such evil people exist in the world? The idea makes me so sick, that I forget Darcy looming beside me.

The minute the bell rings, he grabs his things in one swoop and storms out. I haven't even closed my sketchbook in the time he's out of the room.

.

.

.

All night I toss and turn in my sleep. I think about Darcy, his cold eyes, his unpredictable dichotomy. Why is he like this? He seemed really... interested yesterday? And now...

Asswipe.

By the time I do fall asleep, I'm sucked into one of my recurring nightmares. The worst day of my life.

"Tim?" I call out. Why isn't he answering? I had another nightmare and I need someone to talk to.

I sneak through the hallways. The timber creaks below me and I try my hardest to keep silent. I don't want to wake Brett. He'll just bully me for being scared. And since Mr and Mrs Johnson are out of town, no one will be here to stop him.

I knock on Tim's door but he doesn't answer. He must be asleep, so I just creep in. But he's not alone. Brett? What is he doing in here?

Oh my God.

I scream, so loud that Brett jumps off Tim. His face is red, not with shame, but with anger.

"Leave him alone!" I scream, even louder, loud enough that I want the whole neighbourhood to hear.

"It's ok Jade, just go," Tim says, defeated.

I walk forward, grabbing the first thing I see – a skateboard propped up against the wall. I grip it tightly in my hands and whack Brett hard in the chest.

He doesn't budge, doesn't even stumble backwards. I hit him again, but this time he rips the skateboard off me and throws it into the wall. A fraction of the wall crumbles.

Tim is out of bed now, thrusting himself between me and Brett. "Leave her out of this," he says, "This is between you and me."

"Not anymore, she knows. And I won't let her talk," Brett sneers. He pushes Tim to the floor and runs for me.

He chases me through the house, I scream and scream and scream. Tim is far behind, trying to catch up with us. In the living room, Brett finally reaches me and grabs a fistful of my hair.

He pulls me down to the floor and I hit it hard with a smack. Brett pins me down, trapping my hands beneath his wrists. "If you tell anyone what you saw, I will kill you both in your sleep."

Tim appears behind him and hits him hard in the head with a lamp. "Get off of her!"

He does get off of me, but only to punch Tim. Over and over and over. Tim slumps to the floor, blood pooling around him. His lip splits open. His eyes flutter shut.

I scream but its no use. I try to stop him, but he pushes me back so hard that I hit my head on the dining room table. Just before everything goes black, I hear a knock at the door.

I wake up sweating and panting.

To calm myself down, I think about how that moment of pain and fear led to Gladys rescuing us, led to Tim and I having a chance to start fresh at October Academy.

Nausea hits me like a train. If Brett hadn't been abusing and violating Tim for years, maybe he never would have turned to drugs. Maybe he'd still be here today.

The thought makes me dizzy.

My alarm goes off, saving me from thinking about it anymore. I have to get ready for class. Focus on that nightmare instead.

I'm almost late to art, but just make it in time. My art teacher, Mrs Rousseau has just begun explaining the assignment when I come in. She gives me a pleasant nod. Mrs Rousseau, like Mr Speidy, are my two favourite teachers. They're the only teachers that don't look down on me for being... uh... nicely put, thick in the head.

I blame the Johnsons, partially, for stunting my school growth. I was barely allowed to attend school when I was living with them, let alone study, do homework, read, write. The only thing they let me do was skate, being the owners of half the skate rinks in Grimston and Newhaven combined. With Brett being an utter failure, they needed to adopt if they wanted to vicariously live through their legacies. Me and Tim. I could barely read when I came to October Academy.

Having ADHD definitely doesn't help. The only things I can ever focus on is art and skating. And sometimes, I can't even focus on them.

Mrs Rousseau comes to my desk and excitedly tells me about the assignment. "I really think you will excel at this one, Jade."

"Thanks, Mrs Rousseau."

"Better get cracking, it's due in two weeks." She walks away.

I focus on sketching out a design. Instantly, the corner of my lips tug into a smile. I have the perfect idea! I'm so excited. Bent over into my art journal, I barely notice the class has gone quiet.

I briefly look up. Mrs Rousseau is talking to... a cop. He looks familiar.

He points at me. My heart stops.