Shattered

Chapter 2

            When I was finally decent, well, somewhat decent, I walked down the stairs and outside to where my brother was. He was leaning casually against the truck with a cigarette in his hand.
"Took you long enough," he grumbled putting the cigarette out and throwing it in the grass.
"Shut up," I muttered getting in the truck and closing the door.
"October," he said with a sigh. "I know you don't want to go to school, but look at the bright side. At least you get to see your friends. Even if they don't understand you, it will be nice to hang around...well you know...people for a change."
"Yay," I said sarcastically as he pulled out of the driveway a little too fast causing Old Blue to stall for a split second.
"Sorry, Old Blue," he murmured rubbing the dashboard before looking at me. "What did you say to mom last night?"
"Nothing," I answered. "All I did was give her your message and ask if she was alright and then she just started..." I trailed off.
"Started what?" he pressed.
"Yelling at me and calling me names. She called me a disgusting little tramp because of what happened that night between dad and I," I answered.
"Well, it did seem a little farfetched for dad to do something like that knowing he could go to jail for the rest of his life," he said casually. "Maybe you just had a nightmare about it and thought it was real."
I snapped my head up and looked at him before saying, "Are you saying you don't believe me either?"
"No, I'm not saying that entirely, October. I just know that you have an overactive imagination and lack of sleep can make it hard to tell what's reality and what's not. I don't believe dad would have done something like that to you."
No one does. No one ever suspects the obvious person.
I looked down at my sleeve-covered arms before looking out of the window. It was silent as we pulled up to a stoplight and waited for the light to turn green.
"October, I'm sorry if I upset you, but it's just so hard to believe," he said after a few moments.
"Of course it is," I muttered. "You're the favorite."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
I turned to look at him before saying, "They treat you a hell of a lot better than they treat me. I constantly get called horrible names and talked to like trash. I get treated horribly. They treat me like the very ground they walk on and they treat you like a God. You are the favorite child and I am just the child they never wanted."
"October, do you hear yourself? What you said made no sense. I've never seen or heard them say anything out of the way to you. In fact, I don't even hear them say anything to you."
"That's because you're hardly around anymore, Matthew!" I yelled throwing my arms up in exasperation. "Of course, they aren't going to do that stuff when you are around! They do it the moment you leave! Most of the time I stay in my room until you get home just so I can go and get something to eat because if you aren't there, they harrass me!"
He shook his head and smirked before saying, "You know, I don't believe that."
"You don't believe anything!" I snapped. "You're supposed to be my big brother!"
He sighed heavily as the light turned green before pulling off and saying, "I am your big brother, October and I love you dearly, but some of the things you say are just plain ridiculous. I honestly think you make up these silly lies just to draw attention to yourself."
His words hit me like an Amtrak train and my mouth dropped as we pulled into the school parking lot.
"You think I am craving attention?" I asked feeling my eyes water.
"Yes, October I do and if you don't stop you're going to get mom and dad in a lot of trouble. It must stop."
"But..."
"No buts! It has to stop, October!" he yelled making me flinch. "Now, have a good day at school, I will be back to pick you up at around five."
I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head and getting out of the truck. I closed the door behind me and walked up to the large building which was known as Great Oak University. The school itself looked like an old castle rather than a school and the walkways were made up of dark red brick instead of concrete. In the center of the school lot was a large oak tree with a trunk as thick as a small pickup truck and limbs as thick as light poles. There were a variety of flowers planted around the base of the large tree that looked like tulips, lilies, and roses, but I wasn't sure.
The sound of a skateboard skidding to a stop behind me made me turn around to see my friend Delaney Pearson bending down to pick up her board.
"Hey there, October," she said with a smile.
She was a little taller than me with dark skin and long black hair that she often kept up in a tight ponytail or done in twists, with brown eyes and a curvy frame. She loved punk rock music and always carried her skateboard tucked under her arm. She was a saxophone player and loved taking band classes. In fact, she often spent her time practicing, at least, when she was not riding her skateboard.
"You know you aren't supposed to be riding that around on campus," I muttered as she tucked her board under her arm.
"Wow, a 'Hey Dee' would've been way better. Rough weekend?" she asked.
More like rough life.
"You can say that," I muttered walking around the large oak tree.
"I hear ya," she said falling in step beside me. "So, have you seen Nicholas yet?"
"No, I just got here," I answered walking up the stairs to the main building. "Why? What has he done now?"
"He..."
"Hey there, ladies, what's up?" a voice sounded behind us and we turned around to see Angel standing behind us with a huge grin on his face. "Or should I say, lady. I'm not sure what to make of Ms. Freak here."
Angel was a football jock with blonde hair that was always spiked up to reveal his chiseled face and emerald green eyes. He was very buff with tattoos all over his arms and a scar above his eyebrow, which was most likely a football injury from long ago. He was a pretty good-looking guy and most girls often drooled over him, but I didn't. I hated his guts.
"Angel Hanson," Delaney said narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you want?"
"What? I can't say hello to my favorite girl and her freak of a friend?" he asked laughing.
"She has a name!" she snapped folding her arms across her chest.
"I know."
"Then why don't you try using it?"
He turned his attention to me before laughing and saying, "I would, but I couldn't be bothered to remember it. I think I'll just call her Emo Freak. What do you think, Emo?"
I frowned and looked down.
"What do you think about me kicking your ass with my skateboard?"
He raised his hands up defensively and said, "No thanks, I would rather not end up looking like Emo Freak here. She's probably riddled with cuts. She looks like a cutter. I wouldn't be surprised if she had cuts all over her body."
She gave me a sympathetic look as Angel walked away laughing.
"Are you okay?" she asked placing her hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged it off before saying, "I'm fine."
"Don't listen to him. He's just being a dick thinking it will make his bigger," she murmured.
"I guess," I muttered.
"Come on, cheer up. We get our new schedules today. Maybe we'll have classes together!" she squealed grabbing my arm, but stopping when she felt the cuts through the fabric of my shirt. "Hey, what's wrong with your arm?"
"It's nothing!" I exclaimed pulling my arm away from her.
"Are you sure? It felt like..."
"I said it's nothing. Just scratches from my cat," I cut her off before walking into the university.
The hallways were crowded with people, and the chaos was seamless, almost like a scene from a well-rehearsed movie script. There was always the popular couple that was flirting with each other on the far side of the hall, particularly the right side, and the mean girls who stood farther down near the back of the hall, all sporting the same outfits. On the opposite side of them were the jocks. I couldn't help but grimace looking at them. They were all good friends of Angel and they all bullied me. Between them were the choreography geeks who danced effortlessly around people without missing a single step. Then there were the sorority guys who never did anything but make paper airplanes to throw at the cheerleaders to get their attention, and finally there was the drama kids who walked down the hallway reading their scripts and occasionally bumping into other students and stepping on their feet.
Not surprisingly, with so many people cluttered together in such a small space the hallway stunk. Smells of urine, feces, and other bodily fluids poured out from open restroom doors only to be mixed with deodorant and body odor, cologne, and perfumes in an equal measure. I struggled to push my way through the sea of dejected faces until I reached the small table in the center of the sea with a banner that said: "Strive For Progress Not Perfection".
I sighed heavily.
Just another semester of tedium rammed down our throats with the deep sting of stress, tests, reporting, and consequences of failure for them and another semester of being bullied, trying to keep my scars hidden, and feeling lost for me.
"Well now, there's a friendly face," an elderly voice called from the table and I looked up to see my guidance counselor, Cynthia Anderson.
She was rather short with dull blue eyes, thin lips, and bright smooth skin that seemed to be glowing. She was in her late seventies, but remarkably she didn't look to be a day over fifty. Only her eyes told her real age or maybe they just told how badly she was suffering from her lung cancer. Despite putting a bright smile on her face, I could tell she was in constant pain. Much like I was. That was one thing we had in common. Pain that would never go away, until death came to us.
"Hi Mrs. Anderson," I breathed walking up to her. "How are you?"
"Well," she began. "I'm here, so I can't complain. What about you? You look like you've had a rough week."
"I guess you can say that. Is it really that noticeable?" I asked.
"Probably not to these young men and women walking by us, but to me yes. Putting on makeup to hide dark circles from sleepless nights, trying to put on a fake smile for those around you. Trust me, I've been there. I'm there right now," she answered shuffling through the stacks of schedules.
"How do you do it?" I asked as she handed me my schedule.
She sighed heavily and shrugged before saying, "I don't know. It just comes natural to me now. After days of getting up in pain, it's like after a while you become numb."
"I know the feeling," I muttered.
She looked at me and gave me a warm smile before saying, "You're too young to know the feeling that I feel."
If only you knew the truth.
I forced a smile and nodded before pushing my way back through the sea of people until I found Delaney standing next to the door with her phone in her hand.
"Hey," she said when she saw me. "I see you got your schedule."
"Yeah, still haven't seen Nicholas yet?" I asked.
"Well, he said he's not coming," she answered sounding disappointed.
"Why do you sound so disappointed? It's only for one day. I'm sure he will be here tomorrow or something. Did he say why he isn't coming?" I asked.
She shook her head and put her phone inside of her bra, earning a few whistles from the jocks who caught a glimpse of her doing it. She gave them the finger and one of them shouted, "When sweetheart? I'm free anytime you want it!"
She rolled her eyes in annoyance before looking at me and saying, "So what's your schedule for this semester?"
I looked down at it and said, "Well, I have Calculus with Charles Thorne from 8:00 to 9:30, Art Practice with Greggory Dickson from 10:15 to 12:05, Chemistry with Pamela Yale from 12:15 to 1:15, and Physical Education with Janet Fisher from 1:30 to 2:50," I answered. "Do we have any classes together this semester?"
"Not like last semester when we had every class together. This time we only have Chemistry and Physical Education together," she answered.
"Oh well, at least we have some classes together. That's better than nothing."
The bell rung loudly overhead and I looked at Delaney before heading off to my first class. I already knew what I was going to be in store for and there was nothing I could do to prepare myself. I walked down the hallway until I found my class.
Standing outside was an elderly man with a beer belly, big round glasses, and long gray hair that draped over his shoulders. He was tall with beady black eyes and a hooked nose almost like a hawk's beak. I couldn't help but feel uneasy as he glared at me.
"Are you in my class?" he asked, his voice was cold.
"Yes sir."
"Let me see your schedule," he demanded extending his hand.
I handed him my schedule, which he snatched out of my hand, before eyeing it and handing it back to me.
"Good, go in and find your name," he said.
"My name?" I echoed.
"Yes, your name. Each desk has a name on it and where your name is, you will sit there. You do know your name, don't you?"
I nodded and walked inside of the room. I walked up and down the rows searching for my name until I finally found it. It was near the front of the classroom and I was relieved, at least, until I saw the name that was on the desk beside mine. Angel Hanson.
I felt my heart sink as I heard his voice outside of the door and a few second later, he walked in.
"Well, look what we have here boys," he said as he walked up to me followed by two of his jock friends.
One was short with messy brown hair, ivory skin, gray eyes, and a goatee and the other was tall with a buzz cut, ebony skin, brown eyes, and golden grills in his mouth.
"Looks like Emo Freak is in our class and it looks like I have the pleasure of sitting next to her. Well, isn't that lovely, Bryon?" he asked looking at the one with messy hair.
"Hells yeah, this semester is going to be awesome!" the other one exclaimed.
"You damn right, Devon. Especially since we have little Emo Freak to keep us entertained," Angel answered reaching for my hair.
"Leave me alone," I muttered batting his hand away and veering away from him.
"Or what? You're going to cut me with your little emo blade?"
By now the classroom was nearly full and everyone started laughing at his joke. I felt my face go hot with embarrassment and I looked down.
"What's wrong Emo Freak? Are you going to cry?" he asked kicking my desk hard enough to knock me into the wall.
"ENOUGH!! EVERYONE TAKE A SEAT!!" a voice boomed and Angel laughed as I slid my desk back over to its original position. "Now, my name is Charles Thorne. You can call me Mr. Thorne."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Thorne," Angel said with a cocky smile.
"Thank you. Now before I go over the basic rules of my class, I want each of you to stand up and tell the class your name and what you do for fun. Starting with this young lady here," he said placing his hand on my shoulder.
I felt my blood run cold and I looked up at him before saying, "Do I really have to?"
"No, you don't have to," he said. "But if you don't want to start the semester off with a F, you better do it."
"Just give her the F, Mr. Thorne. After all, it is the last letter of her name!" Angel retorted earning snickers from a few of my fellow classmates.
"Quiet!" he shouted before looking back at me. "Now, this is your decision. Either you get up and introduce yourself or I can go ahead and give you the F. Which one is it going to be?"
I took a deep breath and slowly stood up before saying, "My name is..."
"Emo Freak!" Angel shouted causing the class to once again erupt into laughter.
Mr. Thorne shot him an icy glare before looking at me and saying, "Continue."
"My name is October Richards and I like to..."
"Cut myself and write dark emo poems about why nobody likes me," Angel said in a mocking tone.
"Enough!" he snapped. "You may sit, October."
I sat down and buried my face into my hands as he rested his hand on my shoulder.
"Since we can't even seem to get through the names without breaking my number one rule, I think we should skip that and move on to the rules."
"Works for me, Mr. Thorne. I'm sure no one is really interested in getting to know Emo Freak anyways."
"Rule number one, there will be absolutely no bullying in my class!" he snapped. "Anyone who breaks this rule will be expelled from my class."
"That's not a problem for me, Mr. T. I don't like math anyways," Bryon said from somewhere behind me.
"Is that so? Not only will you be expelled from my class, but you will also be kicked off your football teams, permanently. So that pretty football jacket you're wearing will have to be given back!"
Byron went quiet and Mr. Thorne continued with his rules which consisted of no sleeping, no talking, no eating, no chewing gum, and no cell phones.
"Is everyone clear on my rules?" he asked as I raised my head.
"Yes sir."
"Now then, let's get down to business," he said picking up a stack of papers. "This is a test. Don't worry, it will not be graded, it's just a test for me to see how much you know and what you have learned from previous math classes. You will have the whole class to do it. If you don't know the answer to one, don't stress yourself, just skip it."
"What if you don't know any of it?" Bryon asked.
"Well then, if you don't know the simple question at the beginning of this paper then maybe you need to go back to middle school," he answered handing me a paper.
I looked at the paper and reached down to pull a pencil out of my bag. When I sat up, there was a small balled up piece of paper on my desk. I opened it and inside was a note that was scribbled in horrible handwriting.

Don't forget to spell your name correctly. E-M-O F-R-E-A-K!!

I balled up the note and placed it in my bag before sighing heavily.
"Hey um, Mr. T what the hell is number one? I can't even solve that!" Bryon asked making a few classmates snicker.
"Well now, Mr. Baker. That is just simple Pythagorean Theorem," he answered as he walked to the front of the class and stood in front of his desk.
"What the hell is a Python Theory?"
"First, Mr. Baker, I will not tolerate profanity in my classroom. Second, it's not Python Theory, it's Pythagorean Theorem which is the formula for solving the missing side of a triangle."
"Um, Mr. T, I might not be the smartest guy in this room, but this triangle is not missing a side at all. I see all three sides," Bryon said.
"No, you aren't the smartest guy in this room. In fact, you're making yourself look like the dumbest guy in the room and I, for one, do not tolerate class clowns."
"What do you mean? You already have one class clown in here and that's Emo Freak," Angel spoke up laughing.
"Mr. Hanson, did you forget the consequences for bullying in my class?" Mr. Thorne asked glaring at him.
"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn't mean it.
"Now, back to you Mr. Baker. If you can't figure out a simple problem like number one, then maybe you need to go back to middle school."
"They didn't teach me this in middle school! I've never seen this in my life until today!"
Mr. Thorne pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, "Then don't take the test, Mr. Baker. I can see I'm going to have to go slow with teaching this class."
"That's fine with me, Mr. T. I'm going to need it."
I sighed and put my head down as I listened to Mr. Thorne and Bryon argue back and forth.
It was going to be a long day.