HEY YOU

Scott was different than my mom.

      Whereas my mom would've let me off the hook after a night, Scott kept with it.

      Whenever I messed up back home, my mom would be pissed, sure, but it never lingered or lasted long. Scott's anger hung in the air for what felt like minutes that turned to hours that turned to days. Instinctively, I knew not to test his patience on the status of being "grounded."

      Did I question if he were actually my father? Absolutely not. I didn't need a DNA test when it was clear where I got my anger and temper from. On the surface Scott Stanley was friendly and happy-go-lucky, but when pushed, he proved he could and would go there if needed be. Hell, he'd probably kick René's ass if it came down to it.

      I went on a hunger strike, refusing to leave my room even. Scott didn't pay this any mind when he was home. He went about his day, enjoying his meals alone, and kicking back with a beer as he watched whatever sports he liked on TV. He didn't even check in on me. It was like he knew I was home and not out against his wishes.

      That was my weekend, consumed in the aftermath of Scott's wrath. Monday I was prepared to skip school, but Scott wasn't having that.

      Four hard raps to my door woke me up Monday morning at exactly 6:45.

      "I'm on my way out," Scott's voice told me on the other side of my door. "For now on, I arranged for Dreux to take you to and from school."

      That got me up.

      I shot out of bed and marched clear across my room and practically ripped my door open. Scott was waiting for me on the other side expectantly.

      "What the hell did you just say?" I demanded.

      Scott rolled his eyes. "You heard me, and another thing, watch your language. I've about had it with your dirty mouth."

      "I don't need a fuckin' babysitter, Scott. Especially not the golden child."

      I was really pressing Scott's nerve now. "Dreux lives next door, and I trust him to bring you to and from."

      "And you don't trust Larry?"

      "Again, Dreux lives next door."

      Deep down, I knew there was more to it than what he was saying. He was probably going to have Dreux St. Goody-Goody keep an eye on me at school too.

      Hell no.

      "Dreux's a creep," I said.

      "No, he is not."

      "I've seen him watching foot fetish movies in his room."

      Scott's face deadpanned, calling me on my bullshit. "Saylor Leigh."

      Oh no, not the dreaded middle name. Gag me.

      I folded my arms and stood my ground. "No."

      Before me, Scott's nostrils flared. "I'm not having a negotiation with you. I'm telling you how it's going to be for now on. And another thing, you will be working at Angela's salon every now and then when needed, too."

      "Excuse me?" Oh he was crazy. A straight lunatic.

      Scott turned on his heel. "You heard me. I'll see you at three."

      Without another word, he went down the steps and out the front door.

      He had to be fucking kidding me.

Scott hadn't been kidding. A text from Cameron confirmed that I was to ride with Dreux to school.

      After showering and getting dressed, I found a packed lunch for me down in the kitchen fridge. Despite our angst, Scott didn't leave me hanging. No, he wasn't petty, he was a father first and— He had never been a father to me. Fuck him for coming into my life and thinking he had rights and a say so in anything.

      Begrudgingly, I took off for next door, aimed to get the inevitable over with.

      Angela was just leaving the house when I came up their front porch steps.

      She took one look at me and appeared smug.

      Seriously, with parents like Dreux's, it was a wonder the kid was such a saint. I'd be pissed at the world with an asshole father and an ice-cold mother.

      "Dreux is my son," Angela spoke up.

      Something about her told me not to respond with sarcasm. "Okay."

      "And if you disrespect him, I will have Scott understand that you can walk to school for all I care. Got it?" Angela's steely gaze dared me to say something back.

      Simply, I nodded, hating the situation even more.

      She sized me up, still not satisfied with me. "You can start your shift later today when Dreux goes in to help his uncle. See you then."

      She left their front door open for me to let myself in. For a moment, I debated on just hightailing it out of town then and there. I had enough funds in my bank account for a plane ticket back to L.A. Trouble was, none of my boys were speaking to me, leaving me with no place to run to.

      I was just preparing to sulk when I found my way to the St. Juliens' kitchen, where Dreux was sitting at their breakfast nook eating a Pop-Tart and downing a glass of almond milk—of course the golden child was a fan of the stuff too.

      He was mid-sip of his milk when his eyes locked with mine. As always, that unreadable expression took Dreux's face as he stared at me from across the room.

      It was hard to place the look, almost as though he were tolerating me at some points, and at others, it was as though he was assessing me, studying me for an important quiz he didn't want to flunk.

      I hated this kid.

      "Let's go," I demanded.

      Dreux lifted a brow. "Good morning to you, too."

      He didn't react to my lack of a response as he cleaned up after himself before grabbing his jacket and backpack.

      Silently, he led the way out to his car.

      "I'm not listening to that rap shit in your car either," I told him.

      Dreux stopped walking, turning and facing me, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you assume I listen to 'rap shit,' Saylor?"

      Internally, I kicked myself for the way I'd lashed out, for the ignorant statement I'd made. I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as mortification set in. Too far.

      I focused on the freckles on the bridge of his nose instead of his reprimanding gaze. "I didn't ask for this."

      "And I did?" Dreux shook his head and locked up behind us. "Scott asked for a favor and I said yes."

      "Could've said no."

      "You don't think I regret taking this on?" Dreux gestured from me to him. "It's like you got permanent PMS, and of all the things I gotta deal with, I don't have time for that."

      Typical male, blaming my attitude on my period. With or without my period, I was angry. Half the time I didn't know why.

      We got into his car and as if to piss me off, Dreux set the radio on a rap station. By the loud and demanding lyrics for me to "rake it up," I scowled at the stereo system.

      Dreux looked my way, smirking, as if to rub it in.

      He set the car into gear and backed out of the driveway, leaving the horrid record to serenade us.

      The doors locked and I remained with my seatbelt unfastened. I started feeling antsy, trapped, even if I were just in a car, and Dreux of all people wasn't a threat.

      It dawned on me as Dreux was taking what appeared to be a scenic route to school, driving a long stretch of road under a tunnel of reddish orange leaves on tall trees, that I had no control.

      My life back home with my mom was ripe with my freedom, and now it'd been snatched from me, leaving me powerless in Scott's grasp, not only that, I now had a chauffeur and a job I did not want.

      My skin felt as if it were on fire and I needed to scream.

      "Stop the car," I said.

      Dreux looked at me as if I were crazy, but kept driving.

      I slapped the dashboard. "Stop the fucking car!"

      The car came to a halt, and before Dreux could fully turn and face me, opening his mouth to speak, I shot out of the car and took off running.

      We were on the back side of town where nothing was around but the woods on either side of me.

      I ran down the road, feeling my feet hit the pavement hard as my lungs began to swell.

      When I could take no more, I stopped, planting my palms to my knees as I bent over gasping for air.

      And then I screamed as loudly as I could.

      I would rather die.

      I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever cried, but right then, I felt it coming.

      I was stuck here, against my will, and I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

      Pavement or not, I sat down right where I was and I stared ahead of me at the road, paralyzed by my plight.

      No other cars were driving by, but if they were, their passengers would probably see a poor girl in the middle of a breakdown.

      I wasn't sure how long I sat with my knees pulled to my chest before Dreux came around me, staring at me impassively.

      He tugged nervously on the hooped earring in his ear, watching me with caution. What I didn't catch when I looked up into his eyes, was sympathy. "Get up."

      "No." I shook my head. "Just leave me here."

      "Quit being dramatic," he told me. "It's not the end of the world."

      "Fuck you," I breathed out.

      Dreux rolled his eyes. "You have such an expansive vocabulary."

      "Fuck you."

      "My point exactly."

      He didn't get it, and of course Mr. Perfect St. Julien didn't.

      "I don't belong here!"

      "Do any of us belong anywhere?" Dreux replied.

      I lifted my gaze to his. "What?"

      He shrugged. "Life sucks, get over it. From the moment you've got here, all you've done is walk around pissed off, being pissed isn't going to solve anything."

      "You don't know what it's like." What, his issues were consumed by a broken heart by a girl named after a witch, and then he had an asshole father who at least shelled out for a nice car?

      Dreux squatted down to my level, not even flinching when a car drove by, seeing our chaotic scene before them. "I've got shit, everyone's got shit, but it's what you do with it that counts." He gestured to my hand, or really my anchor tattoo. "Sink or swim?"

      "It feels like I'm sinking." I felt my voice break, but I did not cry.

      Dreux frowned. "It's not hard to sink when you don't even swim." His dark eyes met mine. "Keep swimming, no matter what bullshit comes your way. Don't let the waves take you."

      It felt like I was drowning, like the lack of control I had over my own life was taking me under.

      My mom was gone.

      Scott was a stranger to me.

      And my own friends had left me.

      My one night of fun in Meadow Grove got me grounded, and I just couldn't hack it.

      Dreux seemed so confident, and then I remembered his words from Friday night before I'd left for the party.

      He reached out and tapped my knee, trying to appear cheerful. "I'm not going to let you drown out here."

      "Give me...some type of literary quote to let me know it'll all be okay," I asked of him.

      Dreux took me in, his face awash in that serious expression he seemed to always have with me. "Steinbeck, 'To be alive at all is to have scars.' Live and learn, Saylor, don't let anyone or any experience break you."

      His words took me back to the moment I was on the mechanical bull, where I'd beaten the odds and stayed afloat.

      I could do this.

      I'd lived through the crash in L.A., and I'd managed to beat the bull.

      Whatever came at me next, I was almost positive that I could beat it too, Scott, Angela, anything.

      "Thank you," I said.

      Dreux offered a half smile as he rose to his full height and extended his hand to help me up. "School?"

      "Yeah, let's get that over with," I said.

      Dreux chuckled. "Sounds like a plan."

      Feeling slightly better, I nudged Dreux as we walked side by side back to his Sedan. "Does this mean you're going to change the station now?"

      Dreux snorted. "Nope. We're not about to listen to that country yeehaw shit. Nobody wants to listen to a guy whine about his tractor and sister."

      I narrowed my eyes. "First of all, you uncultured swine, fuck you and your outdated insult. Second, I am a rock music connoisseur."

      We made it to the Sedan, and over the hood of the car, Dreux's eyes met mine and he smiled at me.

      "Apology accepted," he said.

      I had been a little shit to him from the beginning. "Right, I'm sorry."

      He bobbed his head. "Truce?"

      "It's not like I have a choice, you're my ride," I teased as I got in the car.

      Dreux got in beside me and kept with his stance on not changing from the rap station.

      This time as we began driving for school, the atmosphere was less charged and I felt less trapped.

      "Who is your favorite musician?" I wondered above the rap that was still playing.

      "John Mayer," Dreux answered.

      It was such an original answer, I wasn't sure if he were bullshitting me or not. "For real?"

      Dreux shrugged. "I like how he plays guitar, and I like the sound of his voice."

      I liked his answer, but it didn't match what was currently playing on the radio. Especially when I thought of the fact that Dreux had a guitar at home too.

      It was when he glanced at me that I realized I was staring.

      I looked away and noticed the fuzzy basketballs hanging from his rearview mirror.

      "You play?" I asked.

      Dreux shook his head. "No, but my dad always wanted me to."

      "Why didn't you?"

      "Truth?"

      "Yeah."

      "Not tall enough and no interest."

      "How tall are you?"

      "Five-eleven or six foot, give or take an inch or two." We were back into town and near the school when Dreux pulled up to a red light. "When I was five my dad gave me a ball, and my mom gave me a book." He got this look on his face as he peered off into the distance. "All the other guys around here, they took up sports right away, and here was my mom offering me something different. It's like Robert Frost and the road less traveled, you know?"

      I was beginning to like his little literary knowledge. "So why baseball?"

      "My dad loves basketball, football, and sometimes soccer too during the World Cup. Baseball isn't his thing." Dreux began driving again. "Scott taught me, and I liked it enough to play in middle school. When you're Black, it's sort of a rite of passage to play football or basketball. Not much choice either. I honestly wouldn't play anything if I didn't at least enjoy baseball."

      It was an interesting background, one that made me question some of the guys I knew from back home. Did White guys have this same feat of being forced into sports from the time they were young?

      All my friends were into music.

      Even still, I felt bad for Dreux.

      I snatched the basketballs from the mirror and tossed them out the window as Dreux pulled into the student parking lot.

      He chuckled beside me. "Better be happy Rick isn't around to see that."

      Deputy Rick St. Julien, his cousin. "Right. That make you the narc Bonham says you are?"

      Gone was Dreux's humor. "Nah."

      Whatever underlying feud that was brewing between Bonham and Dreux could wait for another day.

      Instead, I was piqued by the last two songs that had played on the radio. One provided bumping afro beats, reminding me of my mom's Jamaican friends back home, and the other song had an old school blues vibe to it that was easy to vibe to.

      "Dreux," I said, gaining his attention once he'd parked. "Those last two songs were actually pretty good. What's their names?"

      Dreux unbuckled his seatbelt before tossing me a clever smile. "Not a chance."

      It wasn't until he was out of the car and walking away from me that I realized he was going to hold out on me for my being fussy earlier.

      Ugh.

      I groaned and got out of the car, slamming his door shut to be extra pissy. I didn't need him, if I thought really hard, I could just Google the lyrics.

      The two rap songs went into the background as I spotted Bonham and his crew lounging around the school fountain. His friends were taking turns tossing candy in the air and catching it with their mouths as he laid back smoking a cigarette.

      Bonham perked up at the sight of me approaching him.

      "She awakens." He stood, going and holding a sign that read I'M SORRY.

      I rolled my eyes. "It's my fault. I knew what I was doing."

      Bonham slugged my shoulder. "I don't text apologies, I like to do them in person. I would've come by, but your old man hates me. I'm glad you're okay."

      It was hard to believe people hated this guy when he spoke like he did. I respected his stance on face-to-face apologies, a lot of guys would've just taken the easy way out with a simple text.

      "No harm, no foul," I said. It wasn't like anything happened beyond our dancing and kissing. Which reminded me... I eyed him. "And for the record, I do remember everything."

      Bonham smirked. "As do I, and I recall nothing happened, but if you—"

      "I meant about what you said regarding Cameron."

      The smirk washed away instantly. "I say a lot of stupid shit about Cameron when I'm drunk."

      "This wasn't stupid shit. You're into her."

      Annoyance covered his face now. "I'll tell them you're starting shit."

      "I'm not here to rat you out," I assured him. "I think you two would be a better fit. Aidan's—"

      "My brother. You don't cross family, Saylor. Not even for the girl of your dreams."

      "You are such a disappointment on the Bad Boy Scale." Everyone acted like he was this huge devil worshipping pariah, and yet, he wasn't bad at all. He smoked, he drank, and he had fun, but what other teenager didn't do these things?

      Hell, he hadn't even let me walk the streets by myself because I'd been tipsy.

      "Speak for yourself," Bonham replied. "You're not such a badass either."

      "Excuse me?" Now I felt defensive.

      "You had your mind made up about me as soon as that slip about Cameron came out of me. We didn't hook up because of her and you know it."

      I owed Cameron no loyalty, but Bonham was right. The mention of his crush had killed the mood for me.

      Bonham read my answer on my face and went on. "You don't even know that girl and yet you're not willing to bed me. Talk about disappointment."

      "We would've had fun," I admitted.

      Bonham wiggled his brows at me. "It's not too late."

      He couldn't have Cameron, so he settled for what he could take.

      I didn't want him to have to settle, and I didn't want to be a person someone had to settle for. Everyone deserved to be wanted, genuinely.

      Across the quad I caught Cameron walking with her arm looped through Aidan's as she met up with Harmony and a few of their other friends. Cameron's perky demeanor even radiated from our slight distance.

      Who wouldn't fall for a girl like her?

      I faced Bonham. "They're all wrong about you."

      He didn't seem convinced. "Oh yeah?"

      "Yeah, they think they know you because you smoke and like to have fun, but that doesn't give them a right to judge you and label you because you don't fit into their mold, or their neat little boxes. You're not shit, you're not lousy, and you're not bad. You're actually a pretty nice guy."

      Bonham clutched his chest. "You're ruining my rep."

      "Fuck your rep, I'm serious," I told him. Maybe Dreux's optimism was rubbing off on me. "Even if you can't get Cameron, you can and deserve another Cameron. Don't settle, it's not worth it. Chasing her in other girls will only leave you high and dry."

      Bonham ruminated on my words before lighting up another cigarette. "Thanks, Professor Stanley."

      He wasn't ready, but that was okay.

      Hell, I wasn't ready or prepared in any aspect of my life either.

      I was about to go when he called from behind me.

      "For what it's worth," Bonham began, "they're wrong about you, too. You're a nice girl, Saylor."

      I tipped my head towards him before making my way for the nearest entrance, all the while wondering the validity of his words.

_________________
Dirty Laundry 🎶 All Time Low

https://youtu.be/hTwmxiLSD0w

Head Above Water 🎶 Avril Lavigne

https://youtu.be/EKF6ghfcQic

Redbone 🎶 Childish Gambino

https://youtu.be/uZpVPUqp9g8

Unforgettable 🎶 French Montana + Swae Lee

https://youtu.be/48ydDUQ16RE