Bad Rep

Freshman year

I missed the bus, again! Great. This has been a regular occurrence since the beginning of the school year. Which was oh! Only three months ago! This was the seventh time I’ve had to stay late for an assignment. I wasn’t even in the smart classes. I was an average student. Actually, I was a borderline B student. I didn’t know why it was hard for me to learn sometimes, but I always asked a million questions. I didn’t think I was slow. I'm sure if I applied myself in my studies, I'd make better grades. Although other kids did make fun of me sometimes. I didn’t let most of it get to me. I just easily distracted.

The only thing I was good at was playing my flute. Band was the only class I had an A in.

I had a decent home life until two years ago when my dad got laid off from the chemical plant he had worked in for the past fifteen years. My mother didn’t work then. Now he had to find another job and the pay cut was more than my parents were used to, which led my mother having to find a job herself. She worked as a night cashier.

So I stayed home most nights by myself. Since they both worked the evening shifts, I usually just fended for myself. I had a Netflix addiction like crazy.

I had an older brother, Patrick, but my parents disowned him when he came "out of the closet". Yes, my older brother was a homosexual and my parents; being die-hard Catholics thought it a travesty and at the young age of nineteen was told to pack his things and move out. That was six years ago. When had been pretty close, but I haven’t talked to him much since he moved to Houston. I didn't know what he was doing there. All he ever wrote was he was doing fine. And that he misses me. Not my parents. Me. He had always been an awesome older brother. Even though he was ten years older than I was, I missed him so much. He always had a way of making me feel good about myself.

Except for the picture I had of us when I was eight, I could barely remember what he looked like. Maybe he’s changed drastically as he went to go find himself and live his life. My parents removed all pictures of him. As if he didn't exist anymore.

I was what my folks called a surprise baby. My parents were in their late thirties when they had me.

That's how our small town was. A little bit on the religious side. Ha! A little? I did my best to stay the quiet, little nobody I was. I was firmly under the strict thumb of my parents. They weren't bad people. But their views were so old-fashioned, and no one could sway them. The man ruled the roost and the little wife did as she was told. BAH!

Our home was modest. A three bedroom, one bath home that was just enough room for us.

Our little town of Lilton, Texas was so far out in the country that if you couldn't find it at the local general store or 7-11, you had to drive forty-five minutes to get to the outskirts of Houston to even find a Wal-Mart.

Lilton was made up of three types of neighborhoods; which anyone could figure out. There was one neighborhood that was deed restricted. It was a gated community and had a guard and everything. Then there was where my parents lived. We’re your typical basic middle-class family. Maybe a little less than middle class because our home use to belong to my dad’s parents and then theirs before them. It's not the nicest home and it's the closest home to where the few trailer parks resided.

Walking home from school was not what I had in mind today, but I didn't have a cell phone, so calling and asking for a ride was out of the question. Unlike a lot of over kids my age, we couldn't afford one.

I didn't have many friends. Well. One. I had exactly one friend. Sasha. We had been in band together since the sixth grade. Yeah. I was a band nerd. Music was the only thing I never got wrong. Although trying out for the marching band…did not go well. I was clumsy. Really clumsy.

I loved being in band. I play the flute. It came to me naturally when I tried out back way back then. Music was my thing. My passion. Music and reading. But not boring old text books. I loved mysteries. I watched every episode of Criminal Minds, CSI, and The Killing. Hence. The Netflix. Not that I was in any way nerdy or techy, but I loved a good mystery.

Sasha was one of the five black families that lived in our town. They lived in the trailer park a few streets down from my neighborhood. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital, and she worked all the time. She said her dad died when she was little and lived in Houston. He had been a cop but was killed in the line of duty. They couldn't afford living there so her mother transferred to Lilton General. They moved in with Sasha’s grandmother.

Sasha began to get popular when we hit high school and tried out for cheerleading. Then we kind of went our separate ways. She was always nice to me. We used to hang out sometimes after school to practice our instruments. But now? Not so much since high school started. She didn't snub me like most girls did. I was the band nerd. The nobody. The loser. I never really understood that logic because there were a lot of chicks in band that were popular. I didn't think I was a nerd because I wasn't a part of the marching band. That was a little too much for me.

But then the band geeks had their own group and I wasn't really a part of that either. I kept to myself a lot.

I was walking through town when I came up on an alley that cut off half the time it took to get home. I turned onto the back alley, saving me the extra twenty minutes of walking. Only problem was, even when it was sunny and bright, this alley was dank and dark. A little creepy because it rained so heavily yesterday, so the walls were slimy and slick and the ground were riddled with puddles. But I didn't have a problem with that. The crime in this town was minimal and I wanted to get home.

I was half way down ‘Knockturn Alley’ (Heeheehee, Harry Potter humor) when I heard multiple footsteps behind me. Not close enough to worry about, but I moved just a bit more quickly. I looked to the side to see what building I was behind. A tattoo parlor, Southern Ink was written on the metal back door. I was turning my head to see if it was some other kids taking a short cut too but instead it was three tall, dark figures shrouded in darkness. I paused for a moment and then when they were twenty yards from me, I recognized them as the most popular guys in the senior class.

I only knew that because every Friday we had a mandatory pep rally, and these three were on the football team. They’re always loud, obnoxious and hollering like Neanderthals. One of them had a little brother, Jimmy that was in band with me. So why were they following me? I don't know. The only thing I could think of was the incident in eighth grade. Jimmy and I were friends in fifth and sixth grade and joined band. Then eighth grade happened and he started trying to be more. When I didn't want more, he started with the name calling.

Looking at these guys, they suddenly stopped when I looked at them and each one of them had a sneaky, snake-like smile on their faces. I turned and began running down the alleyway. I heard heavy their footsteps running and splashing, laughing along the way.

Wait up, Blondie!

Oh, crap. They were gaining on me. I was almost to the end, and could see the rays of sunshine peeking out when I was tackled from behind.

My hands hit the pavement hard and I could feel the uneven gravel pressing and scraping across my skin as I flew down. My hands protected my face, but I landed really hard and tears burned my eyelids. I let out a scream and hoped someone heard me.

The guy on top of me grabbed a hold of my hair, which became damp from the muddy rain water on the asphalt. It was wet and smelled…not clean. He pushed my face down, and I felt the skin tear on my cheek.

Hey, retard. My little brother told me that you’re a big lesbo. You sure you don't like dick?

Get off me. I muffled, struggling to free myself but it was useless. The other two boys were standing back laughing and enjoying me being beat up on.

The older brother, I didn't know his name, had turned me around, my floral blouse that my mom made me, was muddy and wet and plastered on my body. I shoved my palm upward on his nose.

The only real self-defense I knew was from what I saw off TV. But it was good enough for the moment because I hit his nose hard and heard a crunch.

Fucking bitch! The guy landed backward on his butt and I scrambled up and unto my feet and tried to run. Get her!

I began running as fast as I could but it was fruitless because they were bigger, stronger and faster.

I felt a hand grab a fistful of my blouse, and pull me backwards until I was shoved up against the alley wall. My head met the brick none too gently, and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

Hold her. The guy I hit had blood running easily from his nose. I like a fighter.

Geoffrey, I don't think that's a good idea. The one on my left said.

Then fucking leave. Pussy out if you have to.

Geoffrey.

We were just going to scare her.

You too? Fucking leave then.

Let's go. The guy again on my left said.

Geoffrey growled and then punched my stomach hard. Then I felt a punch to my ribs. I cried out. Toppling over.

HEY!

I heard a voice call out.

Fuck! Let's go!

Then Geoffrey leaned in, licked the shell of my ear (gross!) and whispered, Until next time, lesbo. Oh and if you tell anyone, I promise you’ll regret it.

Then I looked to see them running down the alley way as feet ran past me. I fell to the ground, clutching my side. My face hurt, my hands hurt. Heck. Everything hurt. Tears were already falling from my eyes, and the sobbing that came from between my lips was coarse and uncontrollable.

I tried to get up but my body just gave out. I just wanted to hurry home—oh, no! My dad and mom were going to freak!

That seemed to make me cry harder. They would demand who done this, and then there'd be hell to pay when those boys found out. I didn't hear the other guy’s names but that didn't matter. My parents would not be pleased.

I heard sloshing and feet running back towards me and I just curled into a fetal position hoping they didn't come back for more.

I felt a hand gently land on my shoulder but that didn't matter. Something snapped and I started kicking and fighting. Praying they'd just leave me alone.

Hey, easy there, brawler. A deep, southern drawl pierced my ear drums and I took my hands away, opening my eyes. That a girl. Easy, now. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart.

When I looked into the boy’s eyes, I was lost. They were a sparkling grey like a winter storm. His jet black hair was shorn on the sides, leaving thick hair long in the front and slicked back. He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. And he saved my life.

I've seen him around before. He had a horrible reputation. Or so the rumors around this small town led me to believe. I let my eyes graze over him. He was only a few years older than I was, and lived in the poor side of town. I never got to see him up front and personal before. I couldn’t help the heat that crawled up my face. He was so handsome and cute. A few years older than me at least and he looked at me like I was a human being.

On his left arm was a tattoo sleeve of thorns that went down to his wrist and went up and underneath his shirt sleeve.

I didn't know his first name. A lot of people just said ‘that Morgan boy’ when they referred to him. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full lips.

Let me help you.

He reached out to me again and I jerked back. My heart began racing like crazy and then it was like I was in a cloud of fog.

Shit. You're hyperventilating. Breathe. Sweetheart, you gotta let me help you.

I started to shake my head when his hands cupped my cheeks, and our eyes locked.

Breathe. Just breathe. I got you. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise. You’re so brave. My name is Deke Morgan. I work over at Southern Ink. Shit, honey. Your shirt is ripped. You're coming with me, little brawler.

The next thing I knew, he scooped me into his arms and told me to hold on. The only place to put my arms was around his neck and I held on for dear life. For the first time in so long, I felt safe. I felt the corded muscles that were drawn tight on his neck like he was straining.

I can walk. I know I'm heavy.

Deke looked down to me and smiled this charming, dazzling smile that showed off his white teeth.

Heavy? You're what? A buck twenty?

A what? The look of confusion showed on my face when he shook his head and explained.

You can't be over 120.

A small gasp escaped. I'm more than that. But thanks.

How much?

You aren't supposed to ask girls that.

Why not?

It's inappropriate.

Thank God I don't do appropriate anyway.

I don’t know why but that made me laugh. When my face scrunched, the pain that had melted away with Deke sprung to life and made my face hurt.

Tears came back into my eyes and he cursed underneath his breath when he used his foot to open the back door to the parlor. It had been propped open.

We'll get you all fixed up. He walked through a cool hallway and into a room where a couch, table and chairs sat with a TV. Sit tight. Oh, uh, what's your name, sweetheart?

Penelope Handleman. Penny.

Nice to meet you, Penelope.

Penny.

He chuckled and sat me gently on the couch. Then he was gone. And I knew this boy just ruined me.

Two: Deke

Finally. I was at the place I most felt like home. Southern Ink. School was a drag and I’m glad to say I got early release for work. I was repeating my senior year at Lilton High and this year, the kids were even worse than last. Did kids just get dumber or was it just me? I was apprenticing at SoIn and was learning the craft. I loved the atmosphere in here.

I’ve been working here since I turned seventeen. I didn’t get the job by normal standards. I was what this town called, the bad boy. The trouble maker. I’ve been to juvie more times than a person could count on their fingertips. Hence, why I was repeating my senior year. Absent too many days. Until last year. I had been vandalizing this exact shop when the owner, Johnny had caught me red handed with the spray paint in my hand. I had thought no one was in the building. It was three in the morning and I hadn’t seen any lights on up front.

So there I was, spray painting my version of the night sky when I heard, With a little bit more practice, you could be a great artist.

The deep, rumbling voice scared the shit out of me and when I was about to make a run for it, he said, Don’t bother running, son. I know exactly who you are.

My shoulders slumped, knowing exactly what was going to happen. I was seventeen now. I was most likely going to end up in jail this time. Charged as an adult.

Fuck.

Turn around and look at me boy.

I did reluctantly, knowing the guy wasn’t going to let me off the hook. The man before me was massive. Big broad shoulders, tats covering both arms and up his neck. A greying mustache and beard that looked total badass. I couldn’t make out most of his face though. He was hidden deeper into the alley. Like he had been watching me.

Now, I can either call the cops or tomorrow when you get out of school, you come here and clean up this display. You wanna draw, you can learn how to draw in school. If you don’t come by tomorrow, Mr. Morgan, Whoa he knew my name? Then I will call the cops. I’ll have the cleaning supplies you’ll need. Also, I’m sure it’s your paint job over town so maybe you should clean those, as well.

Wait. You’re not going to call the cops right now?

No. Sometimes, it’s the second chances that change a person. Sometimes not. Time will tell. If you’re here, no cops. If you’re not here, I’ll call them. Simple as that.

That took me by surprise. Most people just called the cops and I was taken down to the jail house when I was admitted to High Point academy, basically juvie. It was a school for all the trouble makers, truants and petty crimes kids like me. I knew better. Of course I did. But spray painting and getting out of the rickety shack I called a home was worth it if I got caught. Sometimes I did petty shit because High Point Academy, well, you stayed there until your due, and then you got back out. Anywhere was better than home. My father was a drunk and my mother, well, she skipped down when she realized my father wasn’t going to change. Of course though, that left me here, being raised by him. If I was lucky, I was out of the house most of the time. He got nasty when he drank and the only way I lashed out was by doing stupid shit. When I get out of HP, he whelped on me. But the week, sometimes two, was so worth the beating I got. Bruises healed within days. And of course no one called CPS. Why would they? People around here did not interfere with other people's business.

We both needed our outlets. I was his as spray painting was mine.

I’ll be here. I said. Knowing I didn’t want to go to jail. God knows what Dad will do. It’s not like he’d bail me out of jail if I went. I’d probably stay there until I was released.

Good. Get on home. Aren’t your parents worried about ya, boy?

Ha. I shrugged my shoulders and got the other two cans I brought with me. I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave them here. I might need them some other time. I began walking down the alley to get to the nice neighborhood before I got to my side when I heard a heavy sigh behind me.

Come on, then. I plan on being here the rest of the night. Waiting for a shipment to come in. You can sleep on the couch.

Nah, that’s alright.

No, sir.

No, sir. Thank you though.

Are you going to sleep when you get home? Don’t you have school tomorrow?

Yes, I have school.

What was this guy getting at? I told him I’d be here tomorrow after school.

Names Johnny Myers. I own Southern Ink. If the reason why you left is at home then you are welcome to crash here. No judgement. Come on, now.

I thought about it for a minute and then figured, what the hell? I sure as hell didn’t want to go home. It had been a particularly bad night. He had stumbled upon a photo of him and mom and they had looked happy. Then he saw me, and I knew I looked just like her. And he wanted to crowd me and slap me around. I had rushed to my room, got my backpack and left from the bedroom window. I had stolen a lock and chain for my bedroom and dad never tried breaking down the door.

There had been only so much bullshit I could take from him and then I had to escape that shit.

Johnny had led me in through the backdoor, and made sure he locked up when I followed him into a break room. The couch there wasn’t big enough for me, but at least I could curl up and pass out for a few hours. I went to sit on the couch and somehow, sitting on that couch felt better than anything I’ve ever had the pleasure to sit on. And that was saying a lot. Johnny left the room and was back with a bottled water, a thick blanket and a granola bar.

Eat and drink if you need it, here a blanket. Get comfortable and rest. I’ll wake you up in time to get going and to school.

Why are you doing this? Sir?

Because I see something in you boy I hadn’t seen in a long time.

What’s that?

Maybe someday you’ll figure it out by yourself. Now, get some rest.

>><<

When I heard those fucktards outside, I had planned on ignoring them. I didn't want to deal with their bullshit but when I heard a female whimper, something about that made me become instantly alert and took off like a jet. There was a girl lying face down in the dirt and although I should have stopped and helped her first, there was no way I was a going to let Geoffrey Romoth and his cretins get away with bullying a girl. That just didn't sit right with me.

I caught up to them easily, grabbing one by the back of the shirt and yanking him backward and to the side until he slammed against a building wall. I didn't have time for him. My goal was Geoffrey. The ring leader. I did the same to the next guy, God, they were fucking pathetic.

And they called themselves football players. Romoth shouldn't have looked back, because when he did there was a falter in his steps as he walked into a pot hole. As he went down I tackled him. I pinned him to his back holding his arms down with my legs.

Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, I brought him close.

Bullying a little girl? Didn't you learn manners?

I laid a punch to his face and he tried bucking me off him but I outweighed him by at least twenty pounds.

Stupid lesbo was asking for it.

No girl asks to be raped and beaten you sick little prick. Go near her again and I'll make you regret being fucking born. Worthless creep.

I shoved him back and got up.

Don't even think about trying to come after me Romoth. You and your boys are no match for me.

We’ll see about that.

I ignored him and hurried back around the corner to see the girl huddled into herself. It took a few minutes and a little coercion and she let me take her inside SoIn. When I picked her up, she was surprisingly light for a girl who looked like she had some meat on her bones. She wasn't a big girl but carrying her I definitely felt her soft curves underneath my hands.

Her shirt had been ripped and she has the beginnings of a shiner. She was clutching her stomach as I sat her down.

Her name was Penelope Handleman. Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.

I went to go grab her a SoIn shirt to change into as Johnny asked if I was done with my smoke break. Hell, I hadn't even thought about taking a drag after going after those idiots. I sure as hell hope they don't try to press charges against me.

I shook my head but that wasn't enough so satisfy Johnny so he followed me back.

What’s going on, Deke?

I said nothing as I walked into the break room and let him see for himself.

He cursed low as he caught sight of Penelope.

The hell happen, son?

His dee gravelly voice made her flinch and I couldn't help but react the way I did. I stood in front of her so she didn't have to see the rising anger in Johnny’s eyes.

Boy, I'd never hurt a little girl and you know it.

"It's okay. I'm Penelope Handleman. You can call me Penny. I tripped out back and stumbled. Deke here just offered to help me out. Just let me know