Coming to terms with his sexuality, Theodore Moore is a seventeen year old who is just about getting by. He makes minimum wage and has aspiring, out-of-reach dreams to become a lawyer.
Violent and aggressive, Antony Barbosa is everything wrong with...
“Jesus, what the fuck happened to your face?” Fernanda asked as we walked through the halls of college, her hand on my bicep. A bruise had formed on my temple and my nose had swollen a little, but it wasn’t broken.
“Your brother happened.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “He banged me up a few days ago when he came into the shop.” I shrugged my shoulders as Fernanda huffs, shaking her head.
“That dickhead. I swear, he can’t keep his hands to himself, sometimes. I’m sorry about him.” She apologises.
“Hey, did he… come home with a gun?” I asked her warily, and Fernanda turned towards me, raising her eyebrow and frowning.
“We have loads of guns. They’re not all licensed, but…” She shrugs her shoulders, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “So, yeah, he probably had come home with a gun at one point.” She states, and I curse under my breath in annoyance. “Why? Did he say something to you?”
“No, it’s… it’s minor. Forget I said anything.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me. “Have a good day.” I smiled, and she squeezed my cheek before leaving. A heavy breath leaves my throat, and I stuff my hands into the pocket of my coat, walking to my lesson.
-
I jump into Tom’s shitty little car as he picks me up from college, slamming the door shut a little too loudly. “What the fuck, Theo?” He yells, punching my arm. “Are you still pissed about Barbosa?”
“Obviously.” I murmur, running my fingers through my curly hair. “I need to get that gun back before I lose my damn job.” I huff, and Tom chuckles, shaking his head as he drives off.
“It’s a bit of a naff job, isn’t it? You can always get a better one.” He states.
“Who in their right mind would hire a kid from a fucking council estate? We’re all convicts and sticky fingers.” I shrugged my shoulders, and Thomas scoffed from beside me.
“We’re fucked for life, anyways.” He mutters, and I can’t help but nod my head in acceptance. He wasn’t wrong. We were fucked for life. Both of us go to schools that are not exactly the best, and we live in an area where most of the kids end up in prison or dead. Neither of us are expecting much of our futures, which is why the job at the corner shop means a lot to me. Anika was the only person willing to give me a shot at making money. I’ll forever be grateful for her.
I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. A dream that is so far out-of-reach that I don't even consider it a dream anymore. A miracle would be more appropriate. A myth. Some tiny amount of hope I can cling onto for a better future, but I highly doubt it.
“Shit, at least I’ll have a job when I get the gun back.” I gulp, and Thomas glances at me before focussing back on the road.
“Wanna get hammered?” He asked, and I grin at him before he speeds all the way home. We’re both instantly rushing through the house, raiding the kitchen to find any booze that we still have hanging around. I find two bottles in the fridge, and I throw one to Thomas as he laughs and throws himself onto the couch, switching on the television.
“Oh my days, I needed this.” I groan, opening the bottle and taking a large swig. I’m not even old enough to drink, but in this country, it isn’t a shock horror that underage kids are drinking and smoking. Speaking of, Thomas pulls out rolled-up weed from his pocket, passing me one. I grab a lighter from the table and light the end of the stick before popping it into my mouth.
“We both needed this.” Tom mutters from beside me, and he takes a drag of the weed, the smoke blowing out of his nose. “Fuck’s sake.” I hear him say, and I chuckle lightly to myself before leaning my head back and taking a large swig of the alcohol I managed to find.
Being high and drunk is not a good combination. And, two hours after me and Tom got home that night, he passed out on the couch and Fernanda wasn't answering her phone. I stumble to my feet, running a shaky hand through my hair before grabbing my house keys from off of the table. I need some fresh air to deal with this high that I need to come down from. It turns out, Tom has more than two rolls of joints, and I gladly helped myself to more of his stash.
I’m out of the house and my feet are controlling me, I have no idea where I’m going. I just walk and I walk in nothing but a thin shirt and old joggers until I end up at someone’s flat. I look up, my eyesight a little hazed. Oh- I know whose house this is. Fernanda.
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