Shameless by Clark Rebecca J

Author:Clark, Rebecca J. [Clark, Rebecca J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Rebecca J. Clark
Published: 2012-12-01T23:00:00+00:00

It was Friday before Brian went back to school. The bruises on his face were still dark purple, but they’d yellowed around the edges. His nose, having been broken before, didn’t look much different except for the cut across the bridge. And the swelling around his eyes had lessened enough so he could see clearly again.

As expected, no one paid much attention to his beat-up state. Only his second period teacher, Mr. Ritzer, questioned him. “You look like you got into a fight with a pit bull and lost,” he said.

Brian stared at his shoes. “Car accident.” Excuse number three. Numbers one and two were, in order, got into a fist fight with a friend, and I’m in a boxing class after school. None of those pathetic, “I walked into a door” or “I fell down the stairs” kinds of excuses.

“Was anyone seriously hurt?” Ritzer asked.

“No.”

And that was that. No one noticed he used the same excuses every time. They must all think he was accident prone. Either that or they didn’t care enough to question it.

He was glad he’d missed yesterday’s weight workout. He knew Mr. Everest and Mr. Drake wouldn’t have bought his excuse and then they would’ve asked too many damn questions, and then Mr. E would’ve offered him a ride home and maybe even wanted to meet his mom or something.

Yeah, he was glad he’d missed that session. He didn’t need nobody fussin’ over him, making a big deal out of nothing. The only reason he was taking that class was for something to do. An excuse not to go home. Not because he needed someone fussin’ over him over anything.

That afternoon, he decided to walk straight home — no dashing down alleys, no darting behind garbage cans, no jumping fences. To hell with that maroon car. What could they do to him, break his other nose? Maybe he’d be lucky and they’d put him out of his misery with a quick blast of an AK-47. BOOM and it’d be over. He could think of worse ways to go.

He hadn’t taken ten steps off school grounds before he heard the familiar rev of engine behind him. He didn’t bother turning around or hurrying his step. The car kept pace with him for one block then two, staying right behind him, just beyond his peripheral vision.

His palms sweated. Although a brisk March wind seeped through his lightweight jacket and should’ve chilled him, perspiration trickled down his shoulder blades. He was tired of running scared. Let ‘em shoot him in the back. No big loss.

After three blocks, the car sped up and turned the next corner. He breathed a sigh of relief and upped his pace to get home faster. He hadn’t gone half a block when he heard the growl of the engine behind him again. A car door slammed and then another. Then the sound of footsteps behind him.

Shit.

With a deep breath, he stopped in his tracks and whirled to face his followers.

“What do you want?” he said, his newly-adolescent voice squeaking.

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