Jagged Edges

I watch Treason leave feeling somewhat abandoned. I quickly contemplate following him but I force the idea from my head almost as fast as it came. Stalker much? He might be Abercrombie & Fitch model material but I'm not a creeper.

Almost as soon as the door closes behind him, my table is full of people with wide eyes and curious smiles. The table is only big enough for four people but extra chairs have been added to the point where I feel suffocated. People start firing questions and I slowly come to realize that Treason was my only defense against them. 









"Give the boy some room to breathe." A high pitched voice commands. The questions stop immediately and a few people even remove themselves from the table altogether. A tall, thin blond girl folds herself into a chair on my left as an equally tall, equally thin brunette boy sits on my right.

The blond offers her hand and I take it wearily. "I'm Skipper Thompson and this is my brother, Bradley." She says cooly. "Sorry about those piranhas. It's just kind of weird, you know? A new kid comes and suddenly Treason Gray is talking to someone other than the freaks."

Bradley raises an eyebrow. "Sabrina and her friends aren't freaks. They're really nice girls."

Skipper flicks her hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Anyway. What's your name?"

"Erm....Gian....Vercillian." I answer, somewhat uncertainly. 

"Vercillian?" She asks. "What is that? Russian?"

"French, actually." I correct her.

Skippers eyes light up. "You're from France?"

"I, Uh, I was born there but I was only there for a year or so. Then my benefactors moved me to Haiti where I was adopted." 

"Oh." She says slightly disappointed. "So you don't speak French."

"Mon frère et je parle courament le français." I reply smugly.

Skipper blinks at me. "Huh?"

"He said he speaks fluent French." Bradley laughs. 

"Oh, but didn't you say you were adopted in Haiti?" She asks, confused frown on her face.

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Haiti is comprised of both African heritage and French heritage. French is one of the primary languages. My parents taught me and my brother as we grew up." 

"Is you brother that black guy?"

"Skipper!" Bradley barks, appalled by his sisters question.

I laugh and wave off his worries. "Yeah, that's my brother."

"That's cool." He says, sending his sister a pointed look. 

She gazes back cluelessly before shaking her head and turning back to me. "So, why were you talking to Treason?" 

"Huh?" I blanch at the sudden change of topic. "He's the only one I knew in here..." 

Both of their eyes widen and Skipper leans forward. "You know Treason Gray?"

"Uh....we, Uh, had lunch together yesterday....kinda." I mumble, suddenly self conscious.

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. Bradley leans back with an amused smirk on his face, watching his sister. "This won't do." She says to herself. Then her eyes bore into mine and she stands with a quick determination. "As Skipper Thompson, social leader of Broadneck High School, I refuse to let Treason Gray sink his evil claws into you."

"Social leader?" I blink. 

"Self proclaimed." Bradley corrects. "She's delusional, yet not completely wrong." 

"So, what's wrong with being friends with Treason? Other than being a little closed off, he seems like a nice guy. Have either of you talked to him before?"

Skipper flips her hair over her shoulder once again and sits back down. "Well, first off, he murdered his own brother when he was younger. His parents made him plead insanity and he spent the past five years in a mental hospital. That's why he's so distant all the time. Sometimes he'll just disappear too. Like just now. Where did he even go? He always does that but nobody knows where. I heard that he's planning something bigger than just his brother." 

"Skipper, that's enough." Bradley interjects. "First of all, none of this has ever been confirmed. They're just rumors. Second, it's all way too far fetched. Get a grip on reality. And third, if Gian wants to be friends with him, let him. It's not your place to say he can't be." 

Suddenly the bell rings. Students gather their things quickly and leave the quiet confines of the book filled room. I give Bradley an appreciative smile and continue on to try to find my next class.

The words of the Thompson siblings ring through my head. Bradley was obviously the more sensible of the two but all rumors stem off of a little bit of truth.

I find myself all too curious as to what that truth may be.



When dad picks L'von and I up from school later that day, all thoughts of Skipper, Bradley and Treason are pushed from my head as he blindfolds us.

On the ride home dad keeps talking about how great our present is, how beautiful it is, how it's a big responsibility but he trusts us to take care of it. I was on the verge of guessing but I knew it would be no use. Whenever it tried guessing what our presents were, I was always milenea away from the true answer. 

Finally we pull into the driveway and dad helps us out of the car, standing us next to eachother and giving the command to remove our blindfolds. I waste no time in doing so and my mouth drops open when I see it.

A brand new, impressive-looking sail boat stands proudly on top of a boat rig in our driveway, the words Navy Brat painted neatly on the side. All I can do is stare. 

We could only dream of something as glorious as this and out of nowhere, it's ours. As navy kids our whole lives have been spent on the water. Sailing is just one of the skills we'd acquired. 

L'von was the first to speak. "I'm dreaming, right? This is too good to be true."

Dad laughs and stands in front of us proudly. "Your mother and I figured that we'd go all out on this one since it's your last. After you finish your homework we're going out to buy you some proper sailing attire and you're clear to take her out tomorrow afternoon."

I could hardly form words as I fling my arms around his neck and cling to him tightly, a few tears running down my face. "Thank you so much daddy." 

He hugs me back tightly. "You're more than welcome."

Mom walks out onto the porch and I run over to hug her too. "Thanks mama." 

"You're welcome, baby. Don't cry." She smiles, wiping my happy tears away. 

"I just love you guys so much."

"We love you too, sweetheart."

"I know." I grin.

God, did I know.