The Iconoclast

Chapter 8

one hundred nine days before

BEST WEEK I'D had in a while. No fuckery from my asshole brothers, no death glares from Iris ("I wouldn't depend on her sudden ignorance against you," Samantha advised. "Think big, outside the box.") and the cafeteria's food was acceptable.

I was on my way to my brother, Curtis' car when I felt someone tap my shoulder. Turning to look, I spotted a wide-eyed Sam who wore a wicked smile on her face. "Oh, hey," I groggily said. The sun was making me squint, and my thin black shirt was already sticking to my back. The immense amount of heat was unbelievable, and there was Sam, staying all pretty and getting a more than pleasant honey glow on her cheeks.

"You should come with me," she said while giving me a knowing smirk. Go with her where? I was about to ask but decided against it. She would've told me if she wanted to. "Curtis is right there," I tried to make up an excuse.

"He can wait! C'mon!"

"No, Sam, really. Curtis gets short lunch breaks on Wednesdays, I can't make him wait that long." Just as I finish telling my friend, I heard the familiar and embarrassing rusty horn beep several times. "That's him." Sam stated, making a disgusted groan. I looked over my shoulder, embracing my eyes that had already landed on the pissed off face of my older brother. He motioned through the windshield to "come on" before angrily swerving through the other cars which were most likely filled with patient parents who were throwing him glares of despise.

"Yeah, that's him," I said quietly, feeling pity for myself for having such a non-caring brother. I cringed inwardly as I began to notice other students staring at the maniac who was driving the small, red, and rusty Toyota Tercel. "Who the hell is that?" someone behind us said. "You have one hell of a brother." Sam grasped my shoulder before waving me off. Indeed, I thought, he is one hell of a brother, and as I said goodbye to Sam, I watched Curtis in an idle fascination and wondered if any bastard out there had ever fallen in love with him.

* * *

"YOU KNOW I can't be late to the goddamned smoke shop, Mitchell. Steve is a fucking douche bag!" Curtis was speeding through the highway, and I was gripping onto the side of my seat, scared to death that his shitty motor would cough up its last breath and leave us out here to die in an accident. His gas tank was almost empty, too. "Aren't you going to put gas, at least?" I screamed over his loud metal music.

He jerked the stick shift before speeding up once again. "No time!" he shouted back. I decided to keep my mouth shut, but the voice inside my head was screaming, We'll run out of gas! I threw my back into the car seat, hoping we would get to the house soon. Curtis abruptly reached for the stereo to turn the volume down. I glanced at him questioningly, assuming he would yell at me. But his question caught me off guard.

"Have you gotten laid yet?"

My stomach flipped. I blinked, scoffing in disbelief. "What?" I choked out. "No, of course not. I don't even have a boyfriend, so."

"Sex doesn't need a relationship. Sex is just sex. You can have sex with anyone you'd like."

"Um, no fucking thanks! I don't like the idea of whoring around like a bitch with no home."

I seemed to hit a nerve apparently, because Curtis pulled over so harsh, it made my heart leap to my throat. We weren't even off the highway yet, causing the cars behind us to honk. "What the hell are you doing?" I shouted, looking behind us. I hoped there wasn't any cops. "You callin' me a bitch with no home?" he raised a brow. My mouth twitched. "What? No, I never said you were a whore in the first place. Why should I care about your sex life, anyway?"