Page 32 of Her Brother's Keeper
Anxiety hummed through my veins and I thought of Nox. There was still so much we didn’t know about each other. Still so much I hid from him, afraid if he knew, that it would be too much… one of those things was my very-ex-boyfriend, Lucas Triggs.
“Maren! Heard you finally finished off your dad, the house is all yours now, huh?” he called from down the hallway to a course of masculine laughter. I knew it was going to be bad, but I managed to resist folding like cheap origami. Instead, I slipped into my class just as the bell rang its last and rushed over to my seat, taking it and digging in my book bag for my text.
I sat, cheeks stinging as I felt their eyes bore into me, their whispers and commentary filtering to me in snatches.
“Did she really kill her dad?”
“No, he’s been sick for a long time… then again, maybe she did, so she wouldn’t have to take care of him anymore.”
“I heard she’s trying to get her brother into foster care so she doesn’t have to take care of him anymore either.”
“Probably,” someone agreed.
“Isn’t her mom –”
“Alright! That’s enough!” Mr. Miller, the history teacher called out, drowning out the comments. “Open up to page two hundred and eighty-four, the French Revolution is upon us. Who can tell me..?”
I listened halfheartedly and tried to breathe around the crushing pain and anxiety weighting the center of my chest.
You knew it was going to be bad…I told myself, but still, nothing really prepares you, you know? Just when you think you’ve thought of just about everything they could come at you with, they come up with theonething you didn’t think of. Or in this case, the one thing I figured they would have the decencynotto pick on.
I swallowed hard and took a swig out of my water bottle to drown the threatening tears, concentrating on what the teacher was trying to teach and already bored to tears for having researched it all before on my own with my dad. I liked learning new things. I liked excelling at my studies, it was one of the few things that were uniquely mine that these bullying bastards couldn’t take from me.
“Maren, I know you know the answer to this, why don’t you enlighten the class seeing as no one else could be bothered to read the material,” Mr. Miller said, and his gaze was squarely on me. I licked my lips and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was a little lost inside my own head there for a second. Can you repeat the question?” I smoothed my lips together as the class erupted in light laughter at my expense.
Mr. Miller frowned, “Are you sure it isn’t too soon for you to come back, Maren?” he asked me and I nodded quickly.
“Yes, if you’ll just repeat the question, please…”
“Even the super nerd isn’t listening to you today, maybe it’s time you retire!” someone called from the back and Mr. Miller looked up.
“Or maybe it’s time you served a little detention Mr. Swanson; see me after class.”
A chorus of ‘Oooooo’s’ went around, low and sweeping, and more laughter ensued. I closed my eyes and counted to six before Mr. Miller repeated his question, “What was the ultimate cause of the French Revolution, Ms. Tracy?” he asked me.
“Ah, that would be a financial strain on the people from old debt and their continued witnessing of the upper, royal classes, wasteful expenditure, and excess.”
“Do you know the famous quote that attributed to the French People’s outrage?” he asked.
“Yes, when the people complained they were starving, that they couldn’t even afford a loaf of bread, the queen, Marie Antoinette, is quoted as saying ‘then let them eat cake!’ though it has never been proven that she actually said those exact words.”
“Very good. Thank you, Maren.”
“Yeah, Maren. What would he ever do without you?” one of the girls mocked in a voice where you could justhearher rolling her eyes. Chelsea Day was a cheerleader and my very ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend. She was welcome to him.
“Likely I would feel as if I were a complete failure as an instructor, such as I do in your case, Ms. Day,” Mr. Miller quipped to a round of laughter.
“What’sthatsupposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Google it,” he said with a smile and I felt myself sink lower in my chair. Likely her embarrassment would translate, somehow, into being my fault. It always did. I still couldn’t follow her logic on that one, but she did a superb job of making me pay for her mistakes.
The day just dragged, the insults and comments about murdering my sick father kept coming and by the time the last bell rang I was mentally and emotionally exhausted but the day, the day wasn’t done with me yet. I got into my car, turned the key, andclick.
“No!” I moaned and put my forehead against the steering wheel, “Why?” I cried to no one in particular.
I got out of the car and closed the door, pulling my phone from my pocket. I sadly, only had one person I could call and he, thankfully, picked up on the second ring.
