Hear Me Now (5 page)

You are better than that. You’re better than me.

Looking up from the paper and catching his eyes, again I see they’re locked on me and where before it might have made me feel uncomfortable, it’s having the opposite effect now. Despite what happened earlier, what is sure to happen every single time I’m around him when we’re outside of this classroom; his words, the way he looks, they’re getting to me.

No, no, no. This is not happening. He will not do this to me.

He will not get me to talk to him.

Dillon

When you’re like me and have people doing whatever they can to get your attention, you pick up on a few things and it’s everything I’ve learned over the last couple of years dealing with girls that I use now with Cadence.

There’s no denying the fact that she’s different than most girls I’ve come across since freshman year, but just because she’s different doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of her that are the same. Most girls are suckers for the right combination of words, whether you speak them or write them and that’s what I’m banking on when I take to the paper and write out what I do.

The minute her eyes scan over and they soften from the hard shell they were, I know I’ve nailed it. She wants to hate me, believe everything she’s heard about me after spending time with Eric and the others, but I’m not letting her. I’m pretty damn sure that everything she’s been told is right and she’s better off staying as far away from me as she can get, but I’m not about to let her do it.

Not when the very reason I’m gonna make it through this death sentence from Daniels depends so completely on her.

Even sitting here groveling the way I am is better than it would have been if she hadn’t been here when I walked in this morning. I meant what I said. Her being here makes this, what I’m having to deal with because of what I did, easier to handle. If I’m going to be forced into staying in this class for the rest of the year in some misguided attempt to teach me some kind of lesson, having someone else to do it with is preferable to having to go it alone, even if I do have an ulterior motive.

Other than the time spent with Kayden before we turned on each other, I’ve always been alone. My mother ignores me unless I do something horrendous enough to get her attention and she has to defend me. My father only wants me
when he’s got a fight lined up that he’s sure to win and even my friends; they only want me because of who I am and what I mean to them in the social order. 

Cadence is the first person since Kayden that I don’t feel alone with and it only took a couple of hours with her to realize it. Now that I’ve hooked her though, I’ve got to keep it going and this is the part I’m not all that great at.

Any girl I’ve ever been interested in has always come easily to me. I could point out into a crowd of girls during an assembly and whatever one my finger lands on, that’s how easy they could be mine. I’m not looking to make this girl mine; I mean I’ve already got a girlfriend and I don’t mess around with cheating, but it works the same way. If I want Cadence to keep me occupied while I’m stuck in this class, I’ve gotta work harder. She’s not someone I can just point my finger at and make her come running.

Just as I’m about to speak, I notice her leaning across the desk toward me, another blue sticky note in her hand. Reaching and helping her out, I take it from her hand and lay it down on the desk in front of me.

You ever get tired of pushing people around?

“No. If it comes down to being weak or strong, I prefer to be the strong one.”

Her eyes widen and I know what it means. She doesn’t like my answer. That’s just too damn bad. She asked me a question and I don’t see a reason to lie to her with my answer. It may have taken six years of fighting and going back and forth with my dad to learn it, but I believe in what I said with everything in me.

Though I gotta admit, seeing the scowl on her face, it kind of sucks. At least it sucks until I see the next note she’s written for me.

I don’t believe that.

“Oh yeah? Well since you know me so well, why don’t you tell me what you believe?”

I know I sound like a dick, but there’s something about what she’s written, so sure about her answer that gets under my skin. She’s known me what, a total of five hours? How can she believe or not believe anything about me?

Watching her, bent over the little sticky pad, her focus completely on the small piece of blue paper, whatever she’s writing longer than anything she’s said to me so far; I can’t help wondering what she thinks of me that’s taking this long and this much effort to write. Could she have formed an opinion on me this soon?  She pulls the one paper off and hands it over to me, going back to writing the minute I’ve taken it out of her hand.

Well, whatever it is, it’s sure to be winded.

I could easily find out what she thinks by reading over the one she handed me, but I’m determined to wait until she’s done. I don’t normally give two shits what people think about me, but this girl right now, I wanna know every damn thing in her head, even if it ends up being bullshit.

Ripping off the note and handing it to me, I look down at the two slips of paper in front of me, her messy scrawl covering practically every inch of both and that’s when I get her full opinion.

I think the way you act when you’re here, that’s not the real you. I don’t think you’re an asshole. I think t
hat deep inside, you’re really a decent guy but something’s happened to you or someone’s done something that’s changed you. You hate on the weak because they’re stronger then you and you’re jealous of them. I also think that the reason you’re in this class right now instead of screwing off with those friends of yours is because that so called strength you think you have came back around and bit you in the ass.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Two pieces of blue paper full of her opinion and in order to throw her off, I lie to her face.  There’s no way in hell I’m telling this girl just how right she is.

No way in hell.

Chapter Five

Dillon

This is the grossest place he’s ever chosen for a fight.

When Bruce told me we’d be doing this in a farm house, I had a different view of what that would be. I expected to see machinery, most of it old and rusted from lack of use but we weren’t at a farm at all. It’s a broken down barn and the smell alone is enough to make me wanna turn around and head back out the way I came.

There are bales of hay strewn throughout the place, rakes and even a tractor, rusty and old in the far back corner looking like it hasn’t seen action in years. I’m not sure how long it’s been since animals have been here but the smell of piss and shit is so strong it’s a miracle I can even breathe right now.

No matter what way you look at it, when these fights are over, I’m gonna be covered in manure and living in my shower for at least a week.

The guys he’s got lined up for me, they’re all in their late twenties and just like he warned me in the car, pretty built up on performance enhancers. Yeah, my father chose some real winners this time. I’m gonna have to go head to head with guys, not only older and stronger than me, but ones that are doped up.

This is the way Bruce Murphy makes you into a man. Putting you in a situation there is no fucking way you can come out of, at least not alive anyway.

“Remember what I said boy. Don’t let them go for the face. The minute one of them connects with you that way, it’s gonna be noticeable and I can’t have that.”

Of course he can’t have that. No way someone can see the bruises and cuts on my face and put two and two together. That would ruin his entire operation. He’s been spouting off the same warning for the last six years. It’s not like I can prevent it if it happens. If these guys take me down and get free reign at my body, they’re gonna go for the face. I might be able to explain it away after a fight with Kayden or something, but now, with him coming nowhere near me, it’s gonna be a lot harder to talk my way out of.

I want them to hit me in the face. I want to go to school and have someone notice that the way I looked the day before is not how I look now. Maybe then I can get the hell away from this once and for all. I can’t walk away on my own so someone stepping in would be a godsend.

The guy he’s got me lined up to face first is missing his two front teeth and looks like he’s ten sheets to the wind. Drinking before a fight would give me a bit of an advantage, unless for some reason, being drunk makes him stronger. If that happened I’m screwed. If anything, being drunk makes you stupid, which means I might be able to steal a win here just thinking smart and moving fast.

Rodney Morris, that’s his name. I’ve seen him around town before. He drinks with Kayden’s brother Dean a lot. Shit. I hope this doesn’t get back to Dean. If it does, and Kayden finds out, he’ll have something to use against me and I can’t risk that happening.

Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I tense from the touch but keep all emotion off my face. If my father sees even the slightest look of fear, Rodney is going to be the least of my worries. Bruce will think nothing of dragging me out of here by my hair and beating on me himself until the fear is gone and all that remains is emptiness.

“Do me proud boy. The more damage you do to these three will determine where and who you fight next.”

“More like how much money you make next.”

My smart mouth as he calls it, is gonna earn me a beating worse than any of these ‘roided up losers can give me, but I don’t care. I’m only telling the truth. My dad has a top position with a software development company, makes a shitload on a weekly basis, but cares more about the money he makes from my fighting than he does his job. Making a couple of grand watching as his son gets his ass beat on so hard he can barely walk the next day is a real turn on for the sick son of a bitch.

I hate this, but I never complain about it. There’s no one I can complain to. No one gives a fuck. I’m alone and I’ll always be alone. I would kill to turn around right now and lay this son of a bitch out, even knowing he’s my dad, but I can’t. I might be strong against the people I go up against at school, but I’m a complete pussy when it comes to him. I won’t lay a hand on him, no matter how badly I want to and I think he banks on that. He’s secure knowing he controls me and all of this.

Frank Simmons, the ref for this fight, steps forward and calls to both me and Rodney and as I make my way forward, ready to step into a fight for my very life, I focus on the only thing that can possibly help me get through this. The caramel hair and brown chocolate eyes that have haunted me for the past three days since I first laid eyes on them.

Thinking about her might seem like a distraction if I ever told anyone about it, but for me she’s more than that. Right now, her attitude, the glassy look in her eye that she gets when I insult her, disrespect the teacher or any of the kids in the class, is going to be the thing to get me through this. I’m gonna focus on her and maybe, just maybe I’ll use all the pent up feelings I have about her and take this son of a bitch down before he can do any real damage.

As Frank calls for us to start, I bring every bit of anger I’ve got to the surface, seeing not Rodney’s face as I make my first move, but my fathers and with thoughts of Cadence and the way she’s gone out of her way to ignore me pushing me even more ahead, I unload on the beefed up guy in front of me. I unleash everything I’ve got on him right from the jump, even knowing that in the end it’s going to cost me.

It’s only when I attempt to block his retaliating fist and come up short, the impact slamming me right in the cheek, hearing my father screaming his anger at me in the background that I realize the mistake I’ve made.

That one punch is going to cost me and not just when we got out of this smelly screwed up barn. The stinging in my cheek alone from the impact of the hit is going to cause my face to bruise and when it does, there’s no way in hell my secret is gonna remain a secret.

I’m about to be found out.

Cadence

The first thing I notice when I get to class Thursday morning, after two days of ignoring Dillon and all his stupid attempts to make conversation, is the limp he has when he walks to the front, handing some paper over to my mom and turning to make his way back to his seat.

It’s only when he sits and I really look at his face that I see something even worse than the limp. His cheek is bruised and there’s a small piece of medical tape over his right eye, holding a scrap of tissue or toilet paper in place. His lips, the ones I spent so much time watching are cracked and cut open, dried blood resting just on the surface.

If Dillon looks like this, I’m almost afraid to see what the other guy looks like. Talking to Eric for the past two days at lunch, I’ve got a feeling I know who the other guy is and seeing him this morning as he walked Isabelle to class, he doesn’t have a scratch on him, which means whatever went down, Dillon took the majority of.

Sliding into my seat after tossing my backpack on the floor, I unzip it and like I’ve been doing for the last two days, pull out my book, prepared to spend the entire time reading and doing my best to put Dillon Murphy and his broken body out of my head all together. I’m curious about what happened, but not enough to reach out and ask. Today is going to be like every other day this week. I’m not going to say a word, he’ll ignore me the same way and things will be the same as always.

At least that’s the plan until he goes and breaks it.

Leaning over, he puts another small lined piece of paper on my desk, but this time, through the gap where my hair isn’t entirely covering my face, I see him flinching in pain as he leans back into his seat. Where I would have just ignored the piece of paper for a while, seeing him flinch and the way his eyes roll back up into his head with the pain of the small movement he made, I reach out and flip it open, reading what’s written there.

If the guy’s gonna hurt himself in order to talk to me, the least I can do is read it. I don’t have to respond, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least acknowledge the words on the page.

Hey.

One word.

With the way he tried so hard on Monday to get me to talk to him, forgive him for what happened with his friends, I thought for sure I would see more than just this one word, but as usual, Dillon is again proving that I know nothing at all about him and any attempt to figure him out is pointless.

Using his paper to respond instead of reaching for my sticky pad, I scribble the same word back to him, hoping it will be enough and he’ll go back to ignoring me so that I can pretend to do the same even though the voice in my head is screaming at me to ask what happened to him.

Hey.

Before I know it, he’s handing the paper back to me, this time not reaching out around the desk, but holding it out across the space between our desks in order for me take it. After a split second of deliberation on whether or not I should engage with him this way, especially after the way the last two days have gone, I reach my hand out and take it from him.

What are you reading?

A book. You know, those big things with pages that you turn for enjoyment?

Fuck. Are u always such a bitch?

No. Just for people that deserve it.

We continue to go back and forth like this for at least another ten minutes while my mom stands at the front of the room, her back to us, explaining some math lesson to the other six students in the room.  After every pass of the now filled paper between us, I scan the front, praying as I do that she doesn’t catch me talking to him.

After the conversation we had this morning before coming here, the last thing I want her to see is me going against what she wants and talking to Dillon.

~*~*~

“I had an interesting talk with Eric Carmen yesterday afternoon.”

I know where she’s going with this. There’s only one thing that Eric could talk to her about that she would find interesting, at least enough to tell me about. Anything else he may have said to her, she would have kept to herself, which means she knows what happened on Monday.

Motioning with my hand, not willing to speak up and admit to anything, I try to get her to continue. The sooner we get this over with, the better. It’s been two days since it happened and even though I couldn’t get it out of my head, the last thing I want to do is talk about it.

“He said that Dillon, Amy and Tim attempted to start something after lunch on Monday and you got knocked down in the scuffle. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

I shake my head and turn back toward my cereal. I don’t want to talk about this with her, especially since it happened two days ago and nothing’s happened since. So, some girl knocked me down. It’s not like there was some big fight or something. She’s gonna freak out over nothing.

“Cadence, I know the way it works. When a student gets bullied they keep it to themselves. I don’t want you feeling you need to do that. What you tell me here will remain between the two of us. If you are being silenced in some way, it ends now.”

Not being silenced, Mom. Don’t want to talk about it.

“Who pushed you to the ground?”

The girl.
I sign easily.

“If it was Dillon, you can tell me.”

It wasn’t Dillon. He just watched it happen.

She seems surprised by my answer. My mom is usually pretty understanding when it comes to just about anyone, but I can tell she wants to believe the worst of Dillon. It’s not like her at all. Where’s the non-judgmental teacher I’ve been living with for the past sixteen years?

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter who did it. If it happens again, I don’t want to hear about it secondhand from Eric or any other student. I want you to bring it to me, even if you think you can handle it on your own.”

Okay. Are you done now?

“Cadence, I’m aware that going to work with me is not something you’re happy about and you would like nothing more than to be back at your school with your friends, but this is the situation we’ve been dealt. I want you to promise me something.”

I already agreed to tell her if something happened at school, what else can she possibly want me to promise?

“I want you to promise that you will stay as far away from Dillon as possible. I know that he’s in the class and the two of you sit in close proximity to each other, but he is not a person you want to be getting involved with.”

Nodding my head in agreement, I put my attention back on my cereal and tune her completely out. We haven’t said so much as hello to each other since Monday afternoon when I told him what I thought about him. If she wants me to stay away, that’s an easy promise to make since I didn’t have any plans on speaking to him again.

“Good. You’re such a sweet girl, Caddy. The last thing I want to see happen is for someone like Dillon Murphy to come along and change that.”

~*~*~

Focusing my attention back on the paper in front of me, a new one he ripped out of his notebook and taken to writing on, I see the question he has waiting for me and it just reminds me again of how true my mom’s words were this morning. Though with the back and forth so far this morning, I’m doing a bang up job of listening to them.