Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) by Marita A. Hansen

Author:Marita A. Hansen [Hansen, Marita A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Amazon: B01HUB5BQY
Published: 2016-08-01T23:00:00+00:00

17

DANTE

I headed out of school with Jasper on my heels. “Stop walking so fast, Dante!” he wheezed. I kept up my pace, wishing he’d get the picture I didn’t want to talk to him. I’d ignored him for most of the day and now he was on a mission to find out why. I felt bad about it, but couldn’t help myself. Looking at him reminded me of what his auntie had done, and although I knew it wasn’t his fault, I just couldn’t deal with it right now. I should’ve skipped school, but had stupidly thought it would distract me, but even music was a chore, while English... Despite the part where we talked about dance, it had been intensely uncomfortable, especially when the teacher had read my poem. I knew she meant well, but fuck, I didn’t even let my counsellor see that part of me. It was private, intensely private, something no one had a right to read.

I shouldered past a senior, getting a “Whatcha do that for, fucker!” in return, but instead of turning around and getting in his face for insulting me, I continued through the crowd of students, desperate to get away from Jasper. As I reached the footpath, a blue Ford pulled up to the kerb. It stopped next to me, making me tense.

Jasper’s auntie poked her head out of the driver’s window. “Want a lift?” she asked, smiling up at me

“Fuck yeah!” Jasper said, finally catching up. He rounded the car, yelling, “Thanks, auntie.” He squeezed his bulk into the front passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

His auntie normally told him off for that, but instead, she kept her gaze trained on me. “You comin’?” She grinned, the bitch probably thinking her wording was funny.

I flicked her the finger and headed away from the car, not willing to be in the same space as her again. I stopped several paces away from the Ford at the sight of Mrs. Hatton. She was unlocking a yellow Volkswagen in the teachers’ car park. Looking frazzled, she slid a box into the car, then wiped her brow, sweet patches discolouring her blue blouse. It made her look more real, her appearance not faked to attract a guy. This was her, not a superficial exterior like Phelia put on. I wondered whether that was what I didn’t like about Phelia. She was just so fake—unlike Mrs. Hatton.

She closed the door and moved to the driver’s side, stopping as she noticed me staring at her. I didn’t look away, not caring that she’d caught me out. She dropped her gaze for a moment, focusing on the satchel slung around her body. She looked back up at me, probably perplexed as to why I was still staring at her. I didn’t know why I was doing it either, but for some reason her presence had pushed away the anger that had risen from seeing Jasper’s auntie. Or maybe it was because she was the polar opposite of that creepy opportunistic bitch.

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