When we don't know who to turn to, sometimes we turn to the ones we least expect.
Luke Salazar is a senior at Bay High School, and he's been pushed, shoved, and shut out for most of his life. Miles Jefferson has been the ringleader of a lot of that...
"What did I tell you?" my dad yelled, slamming the door behind him as he let me in. "Put your fucking key on your keyring so I don't have to let your stupid ass in every night!"
I clenched my teeth and tried to remain calm. "I'm sorry, Dad. My house key is in my ball bag in the locker room. I had taken it off when—"
He cut me off. "I don't give a shit, Miles. I don't want to hear your excuses. Just take some goddamn responsibility!"
"Dad, it's not that big of a deal," I replied and immediately regretted it.
"Not a big deal?" He walked toward me, his fists clenched.
I backed up until the doorknob poked the small of my back. "I-I didn't—" I stammered, my heart beating out of my chest.
"Who are you to tell me what's a big deal and what isn't?" He grabbed my collar, throwing me onto the floor.
"Shit, Dad!" I shouted as I slammed against the wall. "What the fuck is your problem?" After the day I'd had, the argument with Rachel, and the continued struggle in AP Euro, I just couldn't take any more. I stood up, brushing off the seat of my pants.
"What the fuck is my problem? Goddamn it, Miles. How do you not realize that you are my problem?" He strode toward me, his fist flying at my face.
I ducked and his fist glanced off my cheekbone, but he still hit me hard. I put my hand on my face and got around him, running upstairs.
To my surprise, he let me go.
When I got upstairs, I locked my bathroom door and inspected the damage. My father rarely hit me in the face because he wanted the injuries to be easy to hide. But this time, it was inevitable; I was going to have a shiner. After inspecting my cheek and brushing my teeth, I unlocked the bathroom door and crept into the hallway, listening for any sign of my father. When I heard him shut the fridge downstairs, I exhaled in relief and walked normally to my room.
I shut the door behind me and plopped down on the bed, pulling off my Nikes and leaning against my headboard. I stared at the wall in front of me for a long time until tears filled my eyes as I thought about my mom. None of this would ever happen if she were here...Mom, why did you have to leave? I thought, hitting my head steadily against the headboard.
Tears spilled onto my cheeks, and I clenched my fists together so hard I felt my fingernails cut into my palms. I was so fucking pathetic. 18 years old with a dad who hit me—a bully with average intelligence on his best day who has fallen for the beautiful and kind valedictorian. What a walking stereotype.
I was worthless.
Rachel
As I wrote the last sentence of my World Lit paper for Mr. King, all I could think about was Miles and how he had walked away from me in the hallway earlier.
I got up from my desk and closed my laptop, flinging myself into the plush armchair in the corner of my room. I don't know why I let Miles take up so much of my thoughts...he's a pompous jerk who gets off on making other people miserable.
Or, he used to be...I have to admit that in the last week, I haven't really seen him be mean to anyone, even Luke. In fact, it seems like he's avoiding him.
I wanted to make Miles be nicer to Luke, not avoid him altogether. The plan wasn't working the way I intended, but it wasn't going to if I kept ignoring him.
But I had to be honest with myself; I was ignoring Miles because of how he made me feel that day at the cemetery.
Because the truth was, I wanted him to kiss me more than anything at that moment.
And that terrified me.
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