Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) (5 page)

“Ignore him, miss,” a soft voice said. “Dante’s
rude to everyone.”

I turned to search for the owner of the
voice. A girl raised her hand in a friendly hello. She was sitting in the front
row, smiling at me with sympathy. She had a mouth full of braces and soft grey eyes.
Her hair was dyed-black, which made her fair skin appear even paler. She looked
like an emo, the black tie around her neck not part of the uniform. She also
had dark eye makeup and a lip ring, which definitely went against regulations.
But I wasn’t about to mention it, especially since she was the only kid being
nice to me.

“I wouldn’t take what he said personally,”
she continued, “if anything, you got off lighter than the last teacher he ran
out of here.”

“What did he do to them?”

“He constantly called her a racist bitch
and mooned her, telling her to kiss his
hori
arse if she didn’t like how
he spoke. That’s a racial slur referring to Maoris. It’s like how the Americans
use the N word.”

“I know what
hori
means.”

“Sorry, miss, you have a posh accent like
a Pom.”

“I spent some time in England, but I’m
still from Auckland. And I hope Dante was suspended for what he did,” I said,
not believing my ears.

“Yup. Dante collects suspensions like
Jasper collects boogers.”

A yell came from beside me, the boy who’d
been sitting next to Dante obviously Jasper, the nose-picking offender. The
rest of the class started laughing, this lesson turning into a comedy-fest. I
quietened them down, along with the boy who was spluttering that he didn’t pick
his nose.

The girl grinned sheepishly at me. “Sorry,
miss, couldn’t resist that. Anyways, no matter how many times Dante’s been
suspended he always comes back like a bad smell. He’s even been to youth
prison. One time the cops came into class and arrested him. He’s evil to the
bone.”

Jasper yelled at the girl to shut her “dyke
face” about Dante. She flicked him the finger, not looking worried that she’d
angered a boy three times her weight, another thing that shocked me. I didn’t
expect a fifteen-year-old to be so big
or
look so old. Not only did he
have stubble, he could have easily passed off as a twenty-something. Though, he
didn’t act like an adult, the words coming out his mouth extremely childish.

My eyes zeroed in on the loud-mouthed oaf,
already forgetting his name. Jester? Casper? No, it was...

“
Jasper
,” I said, his name finally
coming back to me, “you can leave too if you’re going to speak that way in my
class.”

He pushed up, his glare making me take a
step back, the boy a lot scarier than Dante. He grabbed his bag and lumbered
towards the door, disappearing out it. I shook my head, thinking Beverly was
right about how many kids I would send out.

Gathering my composure, I headed for the
front of the class, hoping this was just a rough start to an otherwise
brilliant year.

5

DANTE

Since I only had one class after English,
I decided to skip the remainder of school and head to my cousin’s place, hoping
he could give me some extra work. He lived in Claydon, the suburb next to Wera.
People thought it was the worst neighbourhood in New Zealand, the equivalent to
the Wild West. Fibrolite houses and graffitied walls populated the landscape, while
the barking of dogs, rap music, and the occasional burst of a police siren provided
the soundtrack. And I
loved
it. Claydon was as much a home to me as Wera
was; a place I fitted in. I knew the streets well, had even lived off them
after I’d escaped youth prison. I’d been twelve or thirteen at the time. I
couldn’t even remember why I’d been sent there. Probably for stealing or maybe
it was for selling weed at Wera Intermediate.

I passed the local kindergarten and primary
school, taking a sharp left down the road my cousin and older brother lived on.
If Claydon was the worst neighbourhood, Pleasant Parade was the worst road, its
name the height of irony. The houses looked like shite, just in different shades
of crappy. Though, my cousin’s place wasn’t that bad. If anything, it was a lot
better than the shithole I lived in. It was a single level, three-bedroom
bungalow, with a fresh coat of paint. I ran up the driveway, happy that he was
home. His Chevy was parked out front, the dark green paintjob shining like a
wet dream.

Hoping he was working in the garage, so I
didn’t have to see my brother, I slipped through the side door. Half the space
was filled with gym equipment, while the other half was jammed with boxes,
which were piled so high they blotted out the windows. There was only one patch
of floor that was left empty, which was usually lined with a piece of carpet. Right
now it was rolled back, revealing a trapdoor, suggesting my cousin was down
below, working in his lab.

I thumped on the trapdoor, calling out, “Hunter,
you down there?”

I stepped back, waiting a few seconds for
him to answer. No reply came. I called out his name again. Next thing, the
trapdoor burst open, clattering against the floor. My cousin’s head appeared
through the hole. He was a rough-looking bloke in his late twenties, with a
face that wasn’t ugly, but not far off it.

“How’d you get in ’ere?” he asked, his
eyes flicking to the door. “I locked it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He swore, looking annoyed. “I needa be
more careful. If you were a cop, I’d be nicked. Anyway, why you ’ere? Thought
you were back at school.”

“Finished early. You got any work for me?”

He glanced down the ladder he was standing
on. “I can give ya some party pills,” he said, looking back up at me. “I just
made up a new batch.”

“How much will I get for ’em?”

“A coupla hundred, depending on how much
you sell.”

I grimaced, the amount nowhere near enough
to pay the bills. “You got anything worth my time?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, come on, man, Dad only had enough
cash to cover the rent. I hafta pay the power bill, not to mention eat.”

Hunter grimaced. “He didn’t get fired from
his job again, did he?”

“No, he’s just taken too many sick days,
which means we’re short of cash.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah, it wuz just the flu,” I lied, knowing
Hunter would try to get me to live with him if he knew my father was off his
bipolar meds again. He didn’t trust my father to look after me, saying he was
too reckless and unstable, but what Hunter didn’t realise was that my dad
needed
me
to look after
him
, not the other way around.

“He’s back at work now,” I added. “I just
needa dig up some cash to cover what he lost. Sooo...” I paused, hoping Hunter
wasn’t going to yell at me for asking, “can ya ... ah ... gimme some coke
instead?”

His dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “The
last time I gave you coke you snorted half of it
and
didn’t pay. I had to
cover the loss outta my own pocket.”

I ran a hand over the back of my neck,
feeling bad about that. “I’m not gonna snort this lot, I’m more interested in
eating,” I said, not bothering to tell him it hadn’t just been me who’d
consumed his coke. My two best mates had bugged me for some, which had led to
the three of us getting so wired we’d gone through half a grand’s worth before
I knew it. “I promise I’ll do you right this time, and you know I’m good at
shifting product.”

“Yeah, up your fuckin’ nose.”

“Come on, cuz, that wuz one time in a
hundred.”

He stared at me for a long moment, looking
like he was trying to decide whether to trust me or not, which he should,
because I was more concerned with having electricity and food than getting buzzed
on coke.

“
Please
, Hunter,” I said. “I’m
desperate.”

He exhaled loudly. “Okay. But if you fuck
up with this lot, I’ll be taking your dad’s Harley.”

My face dropped. “You can’t, man, he’ll skin
the both of us alive. He loves that motherfuckin’ bike. If he could marry it,
I’m sure he would.”

“He won’t touch either of us, and I’m sick
of hiding what you’re doin’ from him. You should tell him, Dante.”

“He won’t lemme continue and we need the
cash, you know that.”

“Then don’t fuck up with this lot of coke.
I’ve got my own bills to pay.”

I nodded. “I promise, man, I’ll make you a
profit.”

“Good. And get some backup. I don’t want
you selling it by yourself. Ask Jasper to help.”

I nodded again, although I had no
intention of asking Jasper, since he would demand a cut. I needed every last
cent—not a penny less.

Hunter stared at me for a moment longer
than I felt comfortable with. It made me worry he was going to change his mind.
But luckily, he disappeared down the ladder, not going back on his word. Through
the trapdoor, I could see a long line of benches below. There were also hydroponic
glass containers and other apparatus he used to produce a variety of drugs.
Though, coke wasn’t one of them. He got that from a drug lord, who took a cut
from all his sales.

Hunter emerged through the trapdoor,
climbing out of it. He was taller than me, just over six foot. He looked like a
Polynesian version of Ice Cube, with his beard, the LA cap on his head, as well
as his flannel shirt and blue jeans. He held out a bag of what looked like a few
grand’s worth of profit in white powder, one third my cut. I swiped it off him
and stuffed it into my backpack before he could change his mind.

“I really appreciate this, cuz,” I said,
zipping up my bag.

“You should.” His gaze moved to the
bandage above my eye. “You gettin’ into trouble again?”

“Some dickheads jumped me, but I’m cool,
nuthin’ serious.”

“You gimme their names and I’ll send some
guys round to sort them out.”

“Nah, me and my mates will get ’em back.” I
lifted my chin up in a farewell. “I should get goin’.”

He nodded. “Lemme walk you out.” He closed
the trapdoor and pulled the carpet over it, then herded me out of the garage,
locking the door behind us. He slung an arm over my shoulders and steered me past
my nephew’s playhouse. The washing line was full of cloth nappies and baby
clothes, my brother having a one-year-old.

“You should come inside for some food and
say hi to your brother,” Hunter said, directing me to the back of the house.

Although I was hungry as hell, I pulled
free from underneath his arm. “Nah, I’m good,” I replied, not wanting to see
Ash.

Hunter’s face saddened. “C’mon, cuz, you
can’t keep avoiding him. I know you’re pissed off with him for tryna top
himself, but he’s better now.”

“I’m not pissed off with him,” I said,
I’m
angry with myself for letting him down.

“Then, why are you ignoring him?”

“I’m not.”

“Tell that to someone who believes you,
cos I sure as hell don’t. So, come inside.”

“Honestly, I really don’t have the time,”
I said, heading for the side of the house, wishing he would stop trying to thrust
Ash onto me. Every time I looked at my brother, it hurt like hell knowing I
could’ve prevented him from being raped by my stepfather. I could’ve also
prevented my mother from being killed. But it was too late to speak out about
what my stepfather had done to me...
might’ve
done to me. For all I
knew, it could’ve been a fevered hallucination. I
had
been sick at the
time. I continued down the driveway, preferring to think of it that way,
because if it was a hallucination, I had no reason to feel guilty. If anything,
I had no reason to even think about it at all, because it’s...

“...not real,” I muttered.

“What’s not real?” Hunter asked, following
me to the gate.

“Nuthin’. See ya later,” I said without
looking back. I lifted my hand in farewell as I headed down the footpath,
leaving him behind with my brother, who needed me like a hole in the head.

Within no time, I was back in Wera, cutting
across lawns and hoping over fences to get home quicker. As I rounded a
property, I stopped in my tracks at the sight of Happy Meal and his two mates across
the road. They were leaning against the wall of a dairy, passing a packet of
chips around in front of the shop. They were being overly loud and obnoxious as
usual, their attention fixated on a girl who was walking past. She scurried off
fast, heading in the worst possible direction:
mine
.

Happy Meal’s eyes landed on me a second
later. A cruel smile pulled at his lips. I didn’t wait long enough to see what
he did next, because I was spinning around and running for my life.

“Get that fucker!” Other shouts followed,
including death threats. The shit thing was, I was heading in the opposite
direction to my house. Even worse, I couldn’t keep up this speed all the way to
my cousin’s place. I was fast, but Happy Meal was faster, the bastard a winger
in Wera High’s rugby team, not to mention his legs were longer than mine.

I glanced over my shoulder, spotting him
gaining on me, his mates not far behind him, those bastards also in his team.
Needing to throw some obstacles in their way, I cut into a property and
sprinted down the gravel driveway, my boots crunching against the loose
surface. I passed an old station wagon, aiming for the back fence, knowing I
could at least lose the prop, since he was too short to haul his stocky arse
over it.

I leapt at the fence and grabbed the top,
pulling myself up and over it. I landed on the other side with a thud, then
sprinted past a woman hanging washing on the clothesline. She shrieked in
surprise, the sound turning into a scream as my pursuers cleared the fence. I
glanced back, spotting Happy Meal and one of his mates still on my tail, the
other, as expected, nowhere to be seen. I cut right, now heading towards my
house. If I got back in time, they wouldn’t dare enter my property. My pit
bulls would rip their throats out if they even tried. But I had to get there
first—and through the locked gate.

Behind me, the pounding of feet grew louder.
I glanced over my shoulder as I neared the end of Balwyn Road, spotting the two
bastards closing in on me. The distance between us was decreasing at a rapid
rate, Happy Meal far too fast for me. If he hadn’t had his mate backing him up,
I would’ve spun around and taken him on, because I was just as good a fighter
as he was, if not better. But I didn’t have a chance against the both of them, plus
I was still hurting from the beating they’d given me earlier.

I rounded another corner and sprinted down
the road. Even though my chest was burning like I’d swallowed a jarful of
jalapenos, I picked up speed, which only made my bruised ribs throb even more.
It felt as though my lungs were about to burst through them.

In the distance I could see Phelia’s house,
its pink exterior reminding me of candy floss. I wished I’d accepted her
invitation, because instead of running, I’d be coming. I almost laughed at my
pathetic joke, but couldn’t expel air I didn’t have, everything inside of me
dying badly. In a moment of desperation, or stupidity, I considered banging on
her door for help, but quickly came to my senses, knowing it would infuriate
Happy Meal even more, especially since she was the reason all of this was
happening.

I passed the pink monstrosity. A woman stopped
pushing her pram as I neared her, her scared gaze fixated on my pursuers. I
glanced behind me yet again, relieved that this time they’d slowed down enough
to stop gaining on me. Unfortunately, my glance seemed to light a grill under
Happy Meal’s buns. He picked up speed, the bastard once again gaining on me,
the bag on my back slowing me down. But there was no way I was tossing away
three grand’s worth of coke. If Happy Meal didn’t kill me, my cousin’s boss
would.

I gritted my teeth and put in a final
burst of speed, hoping I could unlock my gate before he reached me. But, from
the sound of pounding boots behind me, I knew I wasn’t going to make it in time
for my dogs to take them out. And there was no way I could climb my wire fence,
since it was sky high and topped with barbed wire, something my father had been
ordered to take down since it was illegal.