Year 1: Boy Meets Boy [LAMS]

Chapter One: Alexander POV

    "Alexander!" I hear my father's voice crow from the living room, my name drunkenly slurred. I sigh, reluctantly putting my book down. I had been immersed in the magical world made of words, right at the peak of action, but if I don't go find out what my father needs, I'll be in big trouble. I walk slowly out of my room, careful not to step on any beer cans, lest the noise agitate my father.
    "Yes?" I ask as politely as I can, trying to hide my disgust. The house smells rancid, and he's sprawled across the couch, empty beer cans crowding him.
    "Go get me another beer." I can barely make out what he's saying, but I can guess well enough what he wants.
    "Alright," I say dully, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge just to be met with the smell of rotting vegetables. Close to no food, as always. I ignore my growling stomach, grabbing a few cans of beer for my father. I set it down next to him lightly, and he doesn't even say thank you whenever he shoos me away.
    I get back to my room, curling up with my book again. Finally, some peace. I turn to my page, taking my bookmark out, but I find that I can no longer focus on the words. I keep on zoning out in the middle of sentences, and I eventually just give up and set the book back down.
    Perhaps I could go for a walk or something... at least I'd be getting out of this wretched house. I shrug on a light jacket, the dark green material baggy on my slight frame, and as I pass the living room, I catch sight of my father, passed out with drool dripping from his snoring mouth. I slip past him, but right before opening the door, I see his wallet, completely unprotected on the floor...  I snatch a card and some cash from it. There should be at least a little bit of something on the card. It's not like he'll miss it, anyways. With the money now in my pocket, I leave the trailer, its door shutting behind me with a soft click.
    I walk past the dilapidated trailers that crowd my street, cautiously keeping my head down. The air reeks of cat piss, and I think that I can faintly detect the scent of burning plastic. My pace is swift as I make it past my street, avoiding the gaze of a group of old men. They look like they're on drugs–as are most of the people in this trailer park–but it still sends shivers up my spine. Finally, I start to enter the part of town that isn't as sketchy. I stop by the Dollar General, roaming the aisles whilst getting odd looks from concerned adults who are likely wondering where my parents are. Others stare because I look like straight-up trailer trash, what with my thin frame, raggedy clothes, unkempt hair, and general look of gloom. I get some off-brand candies and a few bottles of water, making my way to the cashier, hoping that no one from school recognizes me. I pay with my father's card, making mumbled small talk with the cashier.
    Once I've got my bags, I hastily leave the Dollar General and start heading home, ducking into strange alleys for shortcuts.
    "Hey! Alexander! Yeah, you, dumbass. C'mere," a kid calls out from behind me, making me flinch at the noise before realizing who it is. I turn around with a sigh, facing some kid from a few grades above me. I was notorious for getting into many fights, so rarely anyone would pick on me, but William was an exception.
    "What d'you need this time?" I ask dryly, already bored of this as I turn my eyes to his.
    "You still owe me," he states, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if it'll make him somehow look intimidating.
    "For what?" I scoff, knowing what he means but also wanting to play dumb.
    "Y'know what it is. Pay up." I can see the irritation appearing on his ugly face, his lips tipping downwards.
    "I have places to be, and you're being way too vague, William. I'll see you around, aight?" I turn around on my heel, the DG bag beside me making swishy noises. I should've known that he wouldn't let me go so easily. I feel a tight grip on my arm, pulling me right back around.
    "This ain't gonna be pretty if you don't pay up." He's practically foaming at the mouth in anger and looks about ready to punch me, so it shouldn't be funny, but this sounds like something that would happen in one of those cliche movies.
    "You act like you'd be able to even touch this pretty face," I say with a light chuckle, a cocky smirk spreading on my lips.
    I guess that wasn't the right thing to say, because my words earn me a hit to my jaw. I groan in pain, clenching my jaw and stepping back. I can faintly detect the taste of metallic blood, but it isn't too bad. I suck in a sharp breath, throwing a fist to his nose. He tries to dodge, and I end up hitting his cheekbone, but it sounds like it hurts anyways. The force of my punch sent his head to the side, so I take the split-second chance of getting closer and kick between his legs.
    "Goddamnit, you little shit..." he grits out through clenched teeth, wincing. I smirk at the way he's doubled over, mousy hair falling over his stupid blue eyes. I start to get slightly distracted, contemplating whether or not to just leave, but apparently he's not done, because I'm suddenly pressed up against the wall. I guess that's what I get for taking my eyes off of him.
    He breathes harshly, breath reeking of beer. God, he's only what–14? 15? I don't remember, but I do know that he's young. Not as young as me at 11, but I'm not the one allegedly drinking.
    "Listen here, Alexander," he growls out, spit getting on my face. "Just pay me the fucking money, and this'll be over with." I sneer at him, disgusted. I'm about to open my mouth to give him some stupidly sarcastic remark whenever another voice calls down the alley.
    "Hey! William! Pick on someone your own damn size." I'd recognize that voice anywhere. James. My... brother. Our father kicked him out last year... it's been so long.
    "Ah, fuck off James, wont 'ya?" William calls back, temporarily leaning away from me to roll his eyes at James.
    Still in slight shock at seeing James for the first time in about a year, I don't realize that now would be the perfect time to dart away from William. By the time I've come back to my senses, William has me trapped again and James has stepped closer. I see recognition flash across James's face, and something hardens in his eyes. In an instant, he has William thrown off of me, anger vivid on his soft features. With William distracted, I swiftly pick up the DG bag and dart out of the alley. It'd be nice to get a word in with my brother, as we haven't seen each other in the past year, but I'll probably be able to catch him around some other time, or maybe ask an older kid for his address because I've heard that he's living in a different town now.
    I can remember the night he got kicked out, visualizing every minute with explicit detail. My mind starts to wander back to that night, but I refuse to let myself spiral. I lock the memory in the back of my brain, instead focusing on finding the correct route home.

                                        *    *    *

    I step up to the porch of our battered trailer, opening the door. What I don't expect to see is my father angrily pacing around the living room with a letter clasped in his hands as if the piece of paper itself had personally offended him, but there he is. I drop the DG bag in the kitchen, and the noise makes him aware of my appearance. He turns on me, his face turning an ugly shade of red.
    "Uhm... Uh, what's that letter about?" I try to ask it with a cheerful voice, as if there isn't a bruise blooming in my jaw and he isn't livid.
    "None of your goddamn business. Go to your room," he demands, his dry voice grating to my ears. I simply nod, not wanting to get yelled at or hit today. As I open the door to my room, I hear a cough wrack his body, but I know it's just a smoker's cough.
My door clicks behind me and I flop down on my bed, tension finally seeping out of my body. It's probably only 8 or 9 PM, but I pass out anyways, exhausted.

                                        *    *    *

I wake up early, sluggish from a restless night filled with nightmares. I get up off of my bed, stumbling and almost tripping over clothes strewn on my floor. I simply kick them aside, not having the energy to do much else. I hope my father didn't eat the candies I had brought home yesterday... I go to the kitchen to check, and there's still candy left. A small smile quirks on my lips as I pop a piece of chocolate in my mouth, the sweet taste welcome. My father's snoring on the floor–quite obnoxiously, I might add–but I mostly ignore him. I go back to my room to make sure I look at least decent, and then I go outside to take a short walk. Right on the porch, though, is a letter. I open it, my eyes hastily scanning the lines of cursive. Disbelief and excitement are suddenly filling my mind as I stare at who it's from. The "fancy private school" my brother went to...