‹ Prequel: Calm Before the Storm
You're Kind of Gangster
Shailene
"Clearly, I fucked up whatever progress we had made." I tell Matt and Jo after practice. "He ditched his friends for tutoring and I screwed it up because I asked if he misses hockey."
"He ditched them?" Jo questions.
"He said one of them had the flu or something. I'm not sure I believe it, but he actually didn't want to hang out with them for whatever reason. And yesterday, when he drove me home-"
"He fucking what?" Matt screeches. I cringe.
"You guys had your game, and Sam wasn't answering his phone. He offered to drive me," I say calmly.
"I told you- I told you, not to let yourselves be alone!"
"What was I supposed to do, sit at school until God knows when one of you would pick me up?!" I yell back, getting frustrated. Jo tries to calm me down and separate Matt and me so we don't go for each other's throats. "And I didn't let him drive me to my house, you moron, I made him drop me off two blocks away. I'm not an idiot!"
Matt goes to say something, but Jo gives him a look and he shuts his mouth. He pauses for a second, probably thinking of what to say next that won't get him killed by Jo or me. "Finish what you were saying."
I stop. "What?"
"You were going to say something about something that he said before I cut you off, I think. What was it?"
"Oh- uh, he said that his parents were getting on him about his grades and that he wanted me to tutor him?" Matt flips his shit after that, probably ready to go kill Ean.
"He doesn't even live at home anymore! He got kicked out the second they found out about him getting into all this shit!"
I feel my face blanch. "What else has he told me that's a lie?" I whisper.
-
I walk into the gym for my first team sports class a week later, today the mark of the beginning of the second semester. I glance around the filling space, unable to recognize anyone to talk with. I take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers while I wait for the teacher.
When I see our teacher, Coach Simmonds, come out, I pull my hair up into a ponytail as he calls us over for attendance. He runs through the names, then stops, "Ean Gallagher? Is Ean here?"
I scoff. He can't even be bothered to show up for a team sports class. "Here, Coach!" I hear the door slam open as he runs into the gym. Ean looks through the people scattered within the gym, and his eyes fall on me. I don't attempt to smile at him, only cross my arms and look away.
"Okay... If everyone's here, let's get started."
We start the class with a brief introduction, then get into the first sport: basketball. We gather in a circle around the center of the basketball court in the gym, then the captains are assigned at random to pick their own teams. The actual basketball players get picked first, then the other athletes, including Ean, though I can see the slight fear in the girl captain's eyes when his scowl lands on her. I'm picked right after Ean, and I sigh in relief, grateful I don't have to interact with him during the game.
-
When the whistle blows, I throw my hands on top of my head as I try to catch my breath, my nose throbbing. I wipe roughly at the blood still coming from it.
I had been in a struggle for the ball with a couple other people when someone came into the cluster, and shoved me face first into the wood floor. Suddenly, I was on the floor with my nose gushing blood. I looked up and saw Ean smirking down at me before running off after the ball. Ean had shoved me right out of the way and probably felt no remorse for it whatsoever.
Now, he glares at me from the other side of the circle formed around Graham as he goes over the schedule for the next few weeks. Once he’s gone through what he’s needed to say, we’re dismissed and we head back to the locker rooms.
At fourth lunch, I sit next to Jo with a couple of her other hockey friends I talk to occasionally. I drop down my tray of food unhappily. “What the fuck happened to you?” she questions when she sees the bandage across the bridge of my nose. I’m sure that by now there’s some pretty dark bruising under my eyes to match.
“He’s in my team sports class.” Jo snorts.
“Good luck with that.” One of the guys, Nate, looks over, questioningly. “Ean’s in her team sports class.”
Nate gives me an apologetic smile, “Good luck dealing with that little bitch.”
Then, all at once, the rest of the guys join in on the conversation, all adding in their generally negative opinion on Ean. One of the guys I don’t recognize pipes up, “How do you know him?”
“I got stuck tutoring him,” I say, shrugging.
"He ditched them?" Jo questions.
"He said one of them had the flu or something. I'm not sure I believe it, but he actually didn't want to hang out with them for whatever reason. And yesterday, when he drove me home-"
"He fucking what?" Matt screeches. I cringe.
"You guys had your game, and Sam wasn't answering his phone. He offered to drive me," I say calmly.
"I told you- I told you, not to let yourselves be alone!"
"What was I supposed to do, sit at school until God knows when one of you would pick me up?!" I yell back, getting frustrated. Jo tries to calm me down and separate Matt and me so we don't go for each other's throats. "And I didn't let him drive me to my house, you moron, I made him drop me off two blocks away. I'm not an idiot!"
Matt goes to say something, but Jo gives him a look and he shuts his mouth. He pauses for a second, probably thinking of what to say next that won't get him killed by Jo or me. "Finish what you were saying."
I stop. "What?"
"You were going to say something about something that he said before I cut you off, I think. What was it?"
"Oh- uh, he said that his parents were getting on him about his grades and that he wanted me to tutor him?" Matt flips his shit after that, probably ready to go kill Ean.
"He doesn't even live at home anymore! He got kicked out the second they found out about him getting into all this shit!"
I feel my face blanch. "What else has he told me that's a lie?" I whisper.
-
I walk into the gym for my first team sports class a week later, today the mark of the beginning of the second semester. I glance around the filling space, unable to recognize anyone to talk with. I take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers while I wait for the teacher.
When I see our teacher, Coach Simmonds, come out, I pull my hair up into a ponytail as he calls us over for attendance. He runs through the names, then stops, "Ean Gallagher? Is Ean here?"
I scoff. He can't even be bothered to show up for a team sports class. "Here, Coach!" I hear the door slam open as he runs into the gym. Ean looks through the people scattered within the gym, and his eyes fall on me. I don't attempt to smile at him, only cross my arms and look away.
"Okay... If everyone's here, let's get started."
We start the class with a brief introduction, then get into the first sport: basketball. We gather in a circle around the center of the basketball court in the gym, then the captains are assigned at random to pick their own teams. The actual basketball players get picked first, then the other athletes, including Ean, though I can see the slight fear in the girl captain's eyes when his scowl lands on her. I'm picked right after Ean, and I sigh in relief, grateful I don't have to interact with him during the game.
-
When the whistle blows, I throw my hands on top of my head as I try to catch my breath, my nose throbbing. I wipe roughly at the blood still coming from it.
I had been in a struggle for the ball with a couple other people when someone came into the cluster, and shoved me face first into the wood floor. Suddenly, I was on the floor with my nose gushing blood. I looked up and saw Ean smirking down at me before running off after the ball. Ean had shoved me right out of the way and probably felt no remorse for it whatsoever.
Now, he glares at me from the other side of the circle formed around Graham as he goes over the schedule for the next few weeks. Once he’s gone through what he’s needed to say, we’re dismissed and we head back to the locker rooms.
At fourth lunch, I sit next to Jo with a couple of her other hockey friends I talk to occasionally. I drop down my tray of food unhappily. “What the fuck happened to you?” she questions when she sees the bandage across the bridge of my nose. I’m sure that by now there’s some pretty dark bruising under my eyes to match.
“He’s in my team sports class.” Jo snorts.
“Good luck with that.” One of the guys, Nate, looks over, questioningly. “Ean’s in her team sports class.”
Nate gives me an apologetic smile, “Good luck dealing with that little bitch.”
Then, all at once, the rest of the guys join in on the conversation, all adding in their generally negative opinion on Ean. One of the guys I don’t recognize pipes up, “How do you know him?”
“I got stuck tutoring him,” I say, shrugging.