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Revenge and Its Thrills
Chapter Four: What An Asshole
Jack’s POV
I clutched the paper we had been issued, my knuckles turning white. I couldn’t see through my blinding anger. Why the fuck did they put me with Alex Gaskarth? Of all people!
My mum knocked lightly on my bedroom door. “Honey? I’ve called you for dinner three times.”
I snapped out of my daze of rage and went to open the door. She must have seen some of the anger on my face, because she looked concerned.
“Are you okay?”
Sighing, I shook my head. “Not really. They put me in a hotel room with Alex,” I told her.
She visibly tensed up. “Alex Gaskarth?” Her voice was stiff, and I could see she was trying to withhold her own hatred. I was really open with my mum, so I had already told her what had happened between Alex and I in the past.
I nodded. “The one and only.” I didn’t even try to conceal the venom in my voice. My mum loathed him just as much as I did.
“I’ll ring up the school or something . . . I can’t have you staying in a room with him for three whole weeks. It’s not going to happen.”
I shook my head miserably. “It won’t work. I already talked to Mr. Armstrong about it and he said that it wasn’t possible to change rooms now. Something about already handing the forms into the hotel we’re staying at, and they have a strict policy or something.”
My mum snorted. “That’s a load of bullshit.”
She only swore when she was either really happy or really mad. In this case it was the latter.
Stepping forwards and embracing me in a special ‘mum hug,’ she told me to go downstairs and get dinner.
I found a plate of pizza on the dining room table, and yelled my thanks before tucking in. Mmmm, pizza.
At least I had Vic and Frank in my room as well. Frank was kinda quiet, but we were still good friends nonetheless. I felt sorry for him having to put up with me half the time.
I was just finishing my pizza when my mum came in, looking stressed. She threw the phone she was holding at the sofa and ran a hand through her hair.
“I know you said it wouldn’t work, but I called up Millburn anyway and they said that the only room with space leftover was in a room with Patrick and Kellin. What do you think about that?”
I groaned and rested my head on the table. “Sure, that’s great and all, but that room also has Lee Malia and Matt Kean in it, mum.”
Her scowl deepened. I’d had a run-in with those two once, and they’d beaten me up for being gay. It had been pretty bad; I’d had to go to hospital with a broken arm. Despite all that he had done, Alex had never physically touched me, so my mum would most probably rather I shared a room with him.
“Well . . . at least you’ll have Vic, right?” My mum attempted to lighten the mood awkwardly.
I knew it. I knew she’d make me stay with Alex. I also knew it wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t help but feel pissed off. She knew what Alex had done.
“Right,” I replied tartly. For a couple of minutes, the tension was so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. I could tell she was sorry, but she wasn’t going to back down on this.
I sighed. I really didn’t want to be around anyone at this moment, so I took my plate into the kitchen and went back to my room.
I led on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know how I could handle three weeks in a room with Alex. Maybe I could sneak into one of my friend’s rooms to sleep each night? I would probably get caught, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I wasn’t usually this defiant, but I really didn’t want to do this.
Grabbing my laptop, I logged into Tumblr. It wouldn’t harm anyone if I took a quick look at Alex’s blog, would it?
I searched up his account and clicked on his icon picture. It was a ridiculous one of him and that Taylor bitch smoking. I felt the familiar sensation of hatred twisting my gut, but I did my best to push it aside. I just wanted to find out whether he was still the same douche he was last time I talked to him, about a month ago. I hoped he wasn’t. It was a thin hope, but one I was holding onto for dear life.
A groan escaped my lips as I scrolled through his blog. Nope, he was definitely still an asshole. One post in particular caught my eye.
earthtoalex: Ugh, have I really got to share a room with Baratwat? I’d rather suck Mr. Hoppus’ dick. Someone kill me.
The feeling’s mutual, I thought resentfully. What was his problem, anyway? I deserve the right to hate him, after what he’s done. But for some reason he just can’t stop being a dick.
I considered typing out a hateful reply, but decided against it. There wasn’t really any point in stirring up more trouble, not matter how much I wanted to.
Slamming my laptop shut, I looked at my clock and realised it was 10 o’clock. How did it get that late so fast? Meh.
May as well try to get some sleep. The problem was, it wasn’t that easy. Not with all these bad thoughts flying through my head.
By the time 1:30 hit and I still hadn’t got to sleep I decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air would help. I could hear the T.V downstairs, so I knew my mum was still up. She rarely went to bed before 2 on most nights.
Quickly pulling on some clothes and a pair of shoes I slipped out of my room and down the stairs. As I had predicted, when I got to the living room my mum was busy working on a painting. However, she looked up when I walked in and gave me a questioning look.
“I’m going to visit May,” I told her quietly.
Her confusion morphed to sympathy and she nodded quickly before turning back to her painting.
I grabbed a torch and headed out the door. Immediately, the chilly wind hit me and I shivered, cursing myself for not bringing a jacket. I couldn’t be bothered to go back in and get one though, so I guess I just had to suck it.
The walk was quick, and I soon found myself standing beside the cemetery gate. It had been a while since I’d come here. Pushing the gate open, I wondered around the gravestones for a bit. It was sad, how so many people never got to live life to its full potential. They would never be able to fulfil any goals or dreams they had, and the thought depressed me.
I carried on until I came to a relatively new gravestone. It was gray and slightly worn, with bunches upon bunches of flowers resting against it. The writing engraved in the stone read:
May Barakat
1993-2012
Loving sister and daughter
R.I.P
I knelt next to my sister’s grave and gently traced the words.
“Hey, May,” I whispered. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them away furiously. May wouldn’t like to see me cry.
“Sorry for not visiting in a while . . . I guess I was just trying to get over you. I regret that now. I know you’re probably lonely up there.” The cold night air was turning my breath to mist and I sighed deeply. It had been at least 2 months since I’d last visited my sister, and I felt unbelievably guilty.
“So, how’s Heaven? Is it good up there?” I didn’t believe in God, but May had, so I was guessing that’s where she went. If anyone deserved Heaven, it was May. She was the most kind, loving person I’d ever known. She stood up for me when the IRA kids would give me hell. She gave up her weekends and money to volunteer at an animal shelter. She was going to become a vet; she was working towards the qualifications at college.
“I . . . I miss you, May. Why did you leave me?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why did you leave?”
I’d asked that question a million times, but I never got an answer.
Tears slid down my cheeks, and this time I didn’t try to stop them. It had been two years since May died, but the pain was still raw in my chest every time I visited her grave. That was why I hadn’t come in a while, but I just couldn’t stay away.
I found myself spilling everything to her, from having to share a room with Alex to what I had for lunch. My tears grew ever thicker until I couldn’t see in a straight line and I couldn’t form a sentence for all the sobs escaping my lips.
Eventually I just gave up, resting my head against the gravestone and crying myself to sleep. But even in sleep I couldn’t escape, my dreams haunted by May’s beautiful face and dazzling smile.
I clutched the paper we had been issued, my knuckles turning white. I couldn’t see through my blinding anger. Why the fuck did they put me with Alex Gaskarth? Of all people!
My mum knocked lightly on my bedroom door. “Honey? I’ve called you for dinner three times.”
I snapped out of my daze of rage and went to open the door. She must have seen some of the anger on my face, because she looked concerned.
“Are you okay?”
Sighing, I shook my head. “Not really. They put me in a hotel room with Alex,” I told her.
She visibly tensed up. “Alex Gaskarth?” Her voice was stiff, and I could see she was trying to withhold her own hatred. I was really open with my mum, so I had already told her what had happened between Alex and I in the past.
I nodded. “The one and only.” I didn’t even try to conceal the venom in my voice. My mum loathed him just as much as I did.
“I’ll ring up the school or something . . . I can’t have you staying in a room with him for three whole weeks. It’s not going to happen.”
I shook my head miserably. “It won’t work. I already talked to Mr. Armstrong about it and he said that it wasn’t possible to change rooms now. Something about already handing the forms into the hotel we’re staying at, and they have a strict policy or something.”
My mum snorted. “That’s a load of bullshit.”
She only swore when she was either really happy or really mad. In this case it was the latter.
Stepping forwards and embracing me in a special ‘mum hug,’ she told me to go downstairs and get dinner.
I found a plate of pizza on the dining room table, and yelled my thanks before tucking in. Mmmm, pizza.
At least I had Vic and Frank in my room as well. Frank was kinda quiet, but we were still good friends nonetheless. I felt sorry for him having to put up with me half the time.
I was just finishing my pizza when my mum came in, looking stressed. She threw the phone she was holding at the sofa and ran a hand through her hair.
“I know you said it wouldn’t work, but I called up Millburn anyway and they said that the only room with space leftover was in a room with Patrick and Kellin. What do you think about that?”
I groaned and rested my head on the table. “Sure, that’s great and all, but that room also has Lee Malia and Matt Kean in it, mum.”
Her scowl deepened. I’d had a run-in with those two once, and they’d beaten me up for being gay. It had been pretty bad; I’d had to go to hospital with a broken arm. Despite all that he had done, Alex had never physically touched me, so my mum would most probably rather I shared a room with him.
“Well . . . at least you’ll have Vic, right?” My mum attempted to lighten the mood awkwardly.
I knew it. I knew she’d make me stay with Alex. I also knew it wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t help but feel pissed off. She knew what Alex had done.
“Right,” I replied tartly. For a couple of minutes, the tension was so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. I could tell she was sorry, but she wasn’t going to back down on this.
I sighed. I really didn’t want to be around anyone at this moment, so I took my plate into the kitchen and went back to my room.
I led on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know how I could handle three weeks in a room with Alex. Maybe I could sneak into one of my friend’s rooms to sleep each night? I would probably get caught, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I wasn’t usually this defiant, but I really didn’t want to do this.
Grabbing my laptop, I logged into Tumblr. It wouldn’t harm anyone if I took a quick look at Alex’s blog, would it?
I searched up his account and clicked on his icon picture. It was a ridiculous one of him and that Taylor bitch smoking. I felt the familiar sensation of hatred twisting my gut, but I did my best to push it aside. I just wanted to find out whether he was still the same douche he was last time I talked to him, about a month ago. I hoped he wasn’t. It was a thin hope, but one I was holding onto for dear life.
A groan escaped my lips as I scrolled through his blog. Nope, he was definitely still an asshole. One post in particular caught my eye.
earthtoalex: Ugh, have I really got to share a room with Baratwat? I’d rather suck Mr. Hoppus’ dick. Someone kill me.
The feeling’s mutual, I thought resentfully. What was his problem, anyway? I deserve the right to hate him, after what he’s done. But for some reason he just can’t stop being a dick.
I considered typing out a hateful reply, but decided against it. There wasn’t really any point in stirring up more trouble, not matter how much I wanted to.
Slamming my laptop shut, I looked at my clock and realised it was 10 o’clock. How did it get that late so fast? Meh.
May as well try to get some sleep. The problem was, it wasn’t that easy. Not with all these bad thoughts flying through my head.
By the time 1:30 hit and I still hadn’t got to sleep I decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air would help. I could hear the T.V downstairs, so I knew my mum was still up. She rarely went to bed before 2 on most nights.
Quickly pulling on some clothes and a pair of shoes I slipped out of my room and down the stairs. As I had predicted, when I got to the living room my mum was busy working on a painting. However, she looked up when I walked in and gave me a questioning look.
“I’m going to visit May,” I told her quietly.
Her confusion morphed to sympathy and she nodded quickly before turning back to her painting.
I grabbed a torch and headed out the door. Immediately, the chilly wind hit me and I shivered, cursing myself for not bringing a jacket. I couldn’t be bothered to go back in and get one though, so I guess I just had to suck it.
The walk was quick, and I soon found myself standing beside the cemetery gate. It had been a while since I’d come here. Pushing the gate open, I wondered around the gravestones for a bit. It was sad, how so many people never got to live life to its full potential. They would never be able to fulfil any goals or dreams they had, and the thought depressed me.
I carried on until I came to a relatively new gravestone. It was gray and slightly worn, with bunches upon bunches of flowers resting against it. The writing engraved in the stone read:
May Barakat
1993-2012
Loving sister and daughter
R.I.P
I knelt next to my sister’s grave and gently traced the words.
“Hey, May,” I whispered. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them away furiously. May wouldn’t like to see me cry.
“Sorry for not visiting in a while . . . I guess I was just trying to get over you. I regret that now. I know you’re probably lonely up there.” The cold night air was turning my breath to mist and I sighed deeply. It had been at least 2 months since I’d last visited my sister, and I felt unbelievably guilty.
“So, how’s Heaven? Is it good up there?” I didn’t believe in God, but May had, so I was guessing that’s where she went. If anyone deserved Heaven, it was May. She was the most kind, loving person I’d ever known. She stood up for me when the IRA kids would give me hell. She gave up her weekends and money to volunteer at an animal shelter. She was going to become a vet; she was working towards the qualifications at college.
“I . . . I miss you, May. Why did you leave me?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why did you leave?”
I’d asked that question a million times, but I never got an answer.
Tears slid down my cheeks, and this time I didn’t try to stop them. It had been two years since May died, but the pain was still raw in my chest every time I visited her grave. That was why I hadn’t come in a while, but I just couldn’t stay away.
I found myself spilling everything to her, from having to share a room with Alex to what I had for lunch. My tears grew ever thicker until I couldn’t see in a straight line and I couldn’t form a sentence for all the sobs escaping my lips.
Eventually I just gave up, resting my head against the gravestone and crying myself to sleep. But even in sleep I couldn’t escape, my dreams haunted by May’s beautiful face and dazzling smile.