The Bad and The Broken

Chapter 61

The bell rings, and lunch has started. I try to think of other options as a slowly drag my feet down the hall.

I could stay in a bathroom? Or I could go to the library? Or I could just go to lunch and sit with Ryder like he asked? I mean really, Dawn, what's so bad about that?

I shake my head, riding the thoughts. I guess I'll just go. There really is no harm in it, I mean I've done it before. I just don't want to be bombarded by his friends today with their nosiness and dumb topics of conversation.

I walk into the crowded cafeteria, and make my way to Ryder's table. When I arrive, he's in his chair waiting for my arrival.

"You came," he smiles, "I wasn't expecting you to," he adds sheepishly. I take a seat next to him. Yeah, me either.

"Actually, we aren't eating here," he says as he picks a backpack up from the ground that I didn't see. "We're going somewhere else. I packed a lunch for us."

I look at him in shock. What's he doing? What's going on?

I just give a confused look, and nod unsurely. With that, he grabs my hand and takes me out of the cafeteria, and to the football stadium. We hop op on the bleachers- well, he hops up on the bleachers and pulls me up. I don't have much height or leg muscle to do it myself. It was almost as if he knew. With that in mind, I make a mental note to stop getting so physically close to him. Maybe he hasn't figured out just how small I was. Hopefully.

And if he does? A little voice says in my head.

I can easily just hide it until we leave. That is, if I even decide tell father.

Not wanting to depress myself right now, I shake those thoughts out of my mind, and look up at Ryder as he pulls two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his bag along with bottles of water and Doritos.

He gives me my half, and then takes his. I slowly open the baggie my sandwich is in, while he tears his like an animal. I give a slight chuckle at him.

"I was hoping we could talk out here," he says, "and I mean, like, actually talk. No notepads."

Damn. He is persistent.

Should I? I mean he already knows, and he isn't prying on my business about it. What's the harm in it anymore? I can't go back and change it, although I wish I could.

Do I really, though?

I let out a small sigh. "Okay," I whisper. His smile widens.

"Anything you want to talk about?" He asks.

"Well you're the one that brought us out here to talk, so I'd presume that you have something you want to talk about," I come back as I tear a small piece of the crust off. Small bites at a time.

"I often forget how fast you are to catch onto things."

I stay silent and wait for him to tell me what it is.

"About the project," he starts, "I get the feeling you haven't been completely honest with me about some things."

I take a deep breath.

"Alright, well, is there anything you want to ask me or what a double check on?" I ask, already knowing I'd probably have to lie again.

"I love your voice," he says quietly, as if it was only meant for him to hear. I feel my cheeks heat a bit.

"What do you do when you aren't in school?"

"Sit at the house and enjoy the comfort of my bed," I say as I take another small piece off my sandwich. I haven't had a PB&J in such a long time. I try savoring as much as the flavor as I could.

"Is that all you do?" He presses.

"Mhm," I take another piece.

He turns his body towards me a little as he takes a monsterous bite of his sandwich. "Does your family ever go out? Have quality time together?" His eyebrows furrow.

Oh yeah. Totally. My dad and I spend lots of quality time together. Daddy dearest likes to teach me boxing, ya-know, so I can always be prepared to take a hit. He wants me to be tough. I almost laugh at that thought.

"Not really, no. The only ones that are really at the house everyday are just me and the little bro since we don't have jobs," I say as I keep my eyes away from him at all costs.

"Huh," he grunts, "you know, I've never met someone that refers to their parents that way. It's usually mom and dad. Daddy, even. Sometimes mommy. Or ma. Never really father, though." He says. "It just seems.. impersonal. Like they're your father– the man that helped the woman make you– but not a dad."

I let that sink in. He's hit spot on, and I start to fear that he may be onto me. No, he couldn't be. Assuming something like this, assuming that a person's parent is beating them, abusing them, neglecting them, anything of the sort isn't just something you go accuse someone of. It's much too serious. But there's still the possibility that he's figured it out. He is smarter than people think. With that, I open my bottle of water and gulp down half the bottle. My nerves were getting the best of me.

He opens his mouth, going to say or ask something else, but the bell speaks for him as it rings, signaling that lunch was now over. I very quickly gather my things and stand up.

"Thank you for lunch," I rush out, then dash for my next class. Only one thing in my mind.

We can't stay here. I have to tell father.