Club Houses And Coffee Shops

Chapter 2

Gabes P.O.V

My mom was the most beautiful woman in the world, at least, she was to eleven year old me. I was a lonely kid, I'd rather be with my mom then outside playing with the other boys. For some reason or another, I knew I had to cherish my time with her. I always enjoyed spending time with her, tagging along to her friends houses or baking something for my dad when he got home late.

My mom was my best friend, that was, until I met Layla Phillips.

We had just moved into a new house, one much smaller than our older one, and my mother wanted to go see our new neighbors, who coincidentally happened to be one of her best friends. When she knocked on the door, a little girl opened it, raising an eyebrow, "Hello?"

My mom asked if hers was home while I hid behind her, eyeing the girl skeptically and grimacing. I got along with girls even worse than I did with boys, and my mom knew that. She looked me dead in the eye as she answered. Yes, her mom was home, come on in. My mom followed a young Layla who abandoned her post at the door. She yelled to her own mother, who yelled something incoherent. The girl turned towards my mother and me. "I'm Layla."

The rest is history, kind of. To be completely honest, she annoyed me. She had a strange confidence that I'd never had at her age. That was, until the year between sixth grade and seventh grade. Since she was a year younger than me, she was still at the elementary school when I'd moved on to middle school. Of course, in those years, all I seemed to want to do was ignore her, with her loud personality and obnoxious laugh. But when she'd finally gotten to middle school herself, there was something different about her. She was quiet for once, almost lonely.

I began to miss the annoying nagging I'd gotten everyday at the bus stop or the greetings in the hallways or the constant invitations to go places with her. Her happy demeanor was replaced by one of sadness as she walked the bustling halls of our small school. I found myself watching her everywhere I went, waiting for that pesky smile that I hated so much.

Finally, I decided enough was enough. If she wasn't going to smile on her own, I was going to make her. From that moment on, we were the best of friends.

For some reason, something just clicked with us. We became inseparable, and suddenly I couldn't imagine a day without her. Every birthday, holiday, or just regular day in general we were glued at the hip. Somewhere along the road, I realised that she was all I needed. I relied on her almost as much as she relied on me. Maybe it was the way we could literally finish each other's sentences, or the fact that everywhere I went, I was reminded of her, but one day I just knew I was in love with her. I considered myself fairly good at keeping her off my trail. I could never let her know how I felt, yet I could never figure out why I couldn't just go up and kiss her.

The year I figured out why was decidedly the worst year of my life. It was the year that my father left my mother for some bimbo he met while doing his drug runs-- that alone should tell you all you need to know about the woman. Anyways, the druggie became obsessed with my mother, stalking her, threatening her, and finally, killing her. The case of my mother's murder remains open to this day, but we all know who did it. My Freshman year I was lonely. Layla was a year behind me, and the only other people I knew was one of my new step-siblings, Trevor, who despised me almost as much as I despised him. The only time Trevor spoke to me was to promote his gang, which he was constantly looking for recruits for. I was forced to move to my new step mother's house, where I was constantly picked on by the twins and their two brothers. My already shitty grades got shittier and my adorable innocence was gone. While I still hated the sound of Trevor and Nick taking advantage of their sister, but I was becoming numb to the whole experience. I was held back that year, and had to start my second Freshman year with an even worse group of people- including my step-twins, Nick and Nala.

Nala was a whore, although probably not intentionally. She usually wore fishnets, jeans, and a shirt that was cut too low, which hormonal teen me would've loved if she wasn't my sister.She was constantly teasing boys, and leading them on. I'd never seen her with a girl before. But at least she didn't see me as the bane of her existence like Nick did. For some reason, Nick hated me with a passion. He was constantly fighting me for nonexistent dominance, for no other reason than to show off his strength. He was constantly boasting his position in Trevor's gang, as if it was some kind of accomplishment.

There was one light in the darkness, and her name was Layla Philips. I hadn't seen her for a little over a year, but I could still pick her out easily in a crowd. Her usual curly hair was pressed straight and looked as if it clung to head as she laughed at something her one of her friends said. The two were polar opposites of each other, Layla always looked girly, while her friend wore dark clothes, accenting her darker skin tone. What I'm saying is, I would never have paired the two up. I was eager to walk over, give her a big hug and continue our friendship as if it never stopped.

My plans were foiled when she looked over at me, made direct eye contact and nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to whisper to her friend, who simultaneously looked over at me before guiding her away. I wish I had just let her go, let whatever hope I had left in my life go. It would've been easier that way. Instead, I found my legs running after her, and my mouth calling, "Layla!"

She walked faster, but I refused to give up, "Layla, wait!"

When I finally reached her, she was shaking in her boots. Metaphorically speaking of course, she was wearing Birks, which was something I was willing to look over. "What's wrong?"

"No-Nothing, Gabe!" She squeaked, backing farther away from me, and to her friend, who stood her ground. The girl glared at me while Layla sputtered, "You're just... Dressed differently."

I looked down at my grey Converse, black jeans, and IPrevail t-shirt tucked under my red flannel and leather jacket. I rode a motorcycle to and from school, and I had gotten a tattoo across my wrist, which she was eyeing carefully. I guess I was dressing differently than I had before. When I'd left I was wearing sweatpants, and a plain white shirt. My newer look was a little more... intense. "So?"

"I've also heard some stories." She said, regaining some of her confidence. She stood taller, but I still barely towered over her, "About you and a gang, or maybe it was a cult. Oh yeah, it was a cult gang."

I laughed, and her friend laughed along with me. I tried to catch my breath, wheezing out, "A cult gang? And you believed it?"

"I don't know Gabe," She sighed, stepping towards me, "you are not the same person you were a year ago."

"The fuck? Yes I am." The humor of the situation was gone, I was getting angry. It wasn't such a hard thing for angsty Gabe to accomplish, and Layla believing those lies pushed my buttons. But maybe they weren't lies. Maybe I had gotten worse, evil, twisted. Even if I wasn't the same, she still was. She was still the girl I fell in love with.

"The Gabe I know was never so short tempered, I loved that Gabe," I only realised I was leaning in when she placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed me away, "But you aren't him. I can tell just by the way you carry yourself, and the way you just said 'fuck'."

I felt like crying, which was something I'd only done when my mother died, and I got beat up for that. Trevor said crying showed weakness, and nobody in his family would ever be weak. Suddenly, I realised what he was talking about. I understood his reasoning, and I knew Layla and I would never happen again. Our friendship was over, and now we were just strangers. Sullenly, I told her, "Okay, then. I guess I'll see you around."

And then I walked right out the front doors, regardless of the class that would be starting any minute. I discovered myself driving to Trevor's, who'd moved out a few months before. When he opened the door, the smell of weed and booze leaked into the hallway. I took a deep breath, taking a little bit of confidence into my lungs. "I'm in. I want to join."

Trevor spit on the floor and laughed, before offering me a joint, "You think you got what it takes, Unblood?"

"Yes," I took the joint out from between his fingers, inhaling the calming smoke. After all, if Layla could believe that I could be a part of a gang, then maybe I should be.