What Lies Beneath

Three

I hated everything about Lake Bellinor High. The old, thick double doors that were hard to push open. The big concrete steps that unwind to the parking lot, where students scattered every day, before and after school. The fact that it was the only public high school in Lake Bellinor.

I looked down at my phone, checking the time. My mom should have still been working at the hair salon right about now. Damn, that meant I was walking home again. It was about time I started riding my bike again, since the skies were getting sunnier, and the air warmer.

Clouds cast over the parking lot, with spots of the sun seeping through, as I descended the school steps. Over the mass chain of cars parked around, I could hear a voice shouting in the distance. The voice overpowered all the others in the parking lot.

Well-modulated and calm, that voice couldn't fool anyone.

"Yeah, but I can't help you if you keep taking a look at everyone but yourself!" he yelled.

My eyes searched the parking lot until I spotted a slim, grey-eyed man with a phone pressed to his ear. I took notice of his messy black curls falling over his face. That was one feature our father passed down onto him. The rest of him was a spitting image of his mother; a pale White woman whom my father loved before Junior and I's mom met him.

His skin was a few shades darker than hers, thanks to our father's genes, but it was still nothing compared to the brown skin Junior and I earned from both parents—both of them having been Black. What was he doing here though?

I arched an eyebrow at my older brother, Christian, who was posted against his Navy blue, 1996 Chevrolet Nova SS. Anyone could spot his car from a distance. He's always had a thing for old classic cars, as almost everyone else in this town did.

"This is your problem. You need to put in the effort if you really want to fix it—" The anger in his voice thickened and it had me wondering who was on the other line.

But I didn't dwell on it. My mind was too busy trying to play guessing games on why he was here. I wasn't particularly indifferent towards his sudden appearance. However, Christian never picked me up from school voluntarily. At least, not unless my mother asked him to.

When he took notice of me, he immediately dismissed his call and shifted positions. "There's the man I'm looking for!" he said, tasseling an arm around my neck. The sudden movement knocked a groan out of me. I screwed my face and nudged his arm off of my shoulders.

He chuckled, and backed away with his hands in the air, yanking the driver side door of his car open. "Still as temperamental as always," he teased. I scoffed and pulled on the passenger door of his car; a sour expression haunting my face as I hopped in.

When we were both seated, there was a moment of silence, and staring. There was comfort in his smile, but sympathy washing over his face. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to speak. There had to be a hidden reason for him being here. He was a Loftman, after all. The Loftman men of this family always had something to talk about. Like father, like sons.

"Why have you been looking for me?" I sunk into the seat with my arms crossed. It seemed the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere if I didn't say anything. And I wasn't particularly up for having a staring contest until one of us broke first.

Christian shrugged. "I didn't know I needed a reason to see my little brother."

My stared hardened.

He should have known I wasn't buying into his bullshit. All three of us may have had the same last name as my father, but Christian had no reason to care about us. Half-brother or not, we were only bound by blood. His presence was hard enough to deal with growing up.