k a r r i s

✖

Home was so close, yet so far. My body was crashing from sudden fatigue and I couldn't wait till I was finally reunited with my bed. Hockey practice had yet to resume and while my normal weekday afternoons consisted of yelling at sweaty, teenaged boys, the hiatus meant I had to find activities to keep myself occupied after class.

I stood before my locker, seizing my messenger bag and placing various academic items into the larger compartment. As I glanced at my open planner, using it as a guide in which textbooks and folders I should take home, a warm presence tickled my surroundings. Furrowing my brows, I looked to my left, and standing behind the metal locker door, was Michael and Calum.

"I thought I smelled Hot Cheetos," I smiled, making note of the open bag of junk in Michael's hands.

He pushed the snack towards me, "we have a proposition."

"Okay, speak," I pulled out a few pieces of the crunchy, red-orange sticks of heaven, carrying them in the palm of my hand.

"We know that you've been tutoring Ashton," Calum began, "and well, we tried studying on our own but--"

"--do you even own any of the textbooks?" I interrupted, raising a brow in mischief.

"Ha, ha," Calum scoffed as I chuckled.

"I'm sorry," I laughed, "continue."

"Will you tutor us too?" Michael went straight to the point, pouting his lips to embellish his proposal.

My eyes darted from Michael to Calum, who had the same hopeful expression painted on his face. The hockey duo stared at me in silence, patiently waiting for some kind of response from me. It wasn't that I didn't want to tutor them, or the rest of the team for that matter, I was just shocked of the fact that I was needed.

Me.

Of all people, they chose me, to help them out. Attention was something I never vied for; never thrived as my own personal agenda. So for two boys, who were at the top of the social chain at Willowridge High; who had girls licking the ground they walk on; who normally wouldn't have anything to do with an awkward nerd like me, were now needing me.

"I'll bring you more snacks," Michael's voice was sing-song as he shook the bag of Hot Cheetos in his hands, teasing me with my favorite junk food. "But seriously, we're in deep shit right now. A lot of us have a huge exam in Chemistry and our goal is to use that exam to raise our grade to a C-average so we can be back on the team just in time for the Brampcrest match."

"Karris, we know you love the hockey team as much as we do, and you of all people understand how important winning against Brampcrest is," Calum expressed, taking a step forward. His tall, muscular body blocked any view I had of Michael, and for a quick moment, it felt like it was just him and I.

I nodded in agreement, "beating Brampcrest means more to me than even I could ever understand."

"I understand," Calum's focus was on his black converse when my eyes drifted over to him. He did eventually lift his head, the messy disarray of hair draped across his forehead, almost poking him in the eyes. He swallowed in nervousness, "it's for Gabe."

I let out an exhale, silently agreeing with him. Reaching a hand forward, Michael rested it on top of my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in assurance. His lips formed into a half-smile, the gesture alone warming me up from the inside out.

"Beating Brampcrest isn't just for Gabe, doing well in school is for him too," Michael disclosed. "I'm kind of ashamed," he shrugged, "Gabe never let us slip in class."

I smirked to myself, not surprised at all of Michael's testament of my twin. Despite Gabe being, well, Gabe, he still managed to keep his grades on a decent spectrum. I knew part of it was because of hockey, and Willowridge's strict regulations when it comes to playing a sport. The other part came from our very Filipino parents who expected nothing but academic greatness from us.

"Okay, I'll do it," I nodded, "I'll tutor you guys and anyone else on the team that needs help."

Michael's eyes lit up, "don't fuck with us."

"I'm not playing around," I giggled, "I promise. I'm a Thunderbird too. If you go down, I do too."

And before another word could get out, my entire body was pulled into an enormous group hug. Face squashed, eyeglasses falling off, and the heavy smell of cologne tickling my nostrils, the embrace from Michael and Calum had me feeling fuzzy inside. It was crazy that a simple hug could do so much; could ignite everything all at once that combustion was imminent.

"Thanks dude," Michael grinned, pulling away from the hug. Grabbing my hand, he forced the bag of Cheetos into it and forcing my fingers to grasp the package.

"Keep bringing me snacks and I just might tutor you till you graduate University," I laughed, to which the boys reciprocated their own chuckles. "I gotta get going, but I'll text you guys about a tutoring schedule, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," Calum reaching his hand out to give my arm one last squeeze.

The hockey duo walked away, leaving me to my own pleasant thoughts as I finished stuffing school necessities into my messenger bag. With a colorful array of folders in my hands, each for a different class, I went through each subject, determining which ones to take home with me. However, with my back facing the rambunctious corridor, and my eyes pinned to the folders, I allowed myself to be vulnerable; allowed myself to be an open target.

SLAM.

Within a split second my scholastic essentials, in its entirety, were scattered across the linoleum floors. Handouts, notes, and handmade flashcards tumbled to the ground faster than my mind could register. Shock painting my face, I darted my focus to my surroundings, searching for the culprit.

"Piece of advice Karris," sweet as rotten candy, a voice filled my ears.

Then like clockwork, my peripheral caught glimpse of long, luscious, blonde hair before my nose could pick up the floral scent of her expensive perfume. Tegan stood next to my locker with a smile plastered across her face.

"Watch your back, sweetheart," Tegan advised, the smirk still present.

"Is that a threat?" I quietly questioned, my chin falling to my chest, but my eyes trying to meet hers.

"Just an eensy-weensy, tiny tip," Tegan began, licking her lips before stepping closer towards me and towering above with superiority. "I know it seems like the hockey team needs you. Their dire desperation for academic guidance will only last till their grade increases to par. So jettison the naiveness, Karris and realize that they're merely using you."

"Y-you don't k-know a-anything about our r-relationship," I stammered through my words, as per usual. Tegan was like a social Dementor and sucked away any ounce of confidence I had.

She chuckled, "sweetie, there's no relationship. You're just the hockey team's expedient to an agenda far more complex than you'll ever understand."

"That's not true," I fought back, though my voice mousy. "They do need and appreciate me. I'm part of the team too."

Tegan's mouth opened, however the demand that filled my ears did not belong to her. Instead, the string of words were dipped with deep resonance and anger.

"Leave her the fuck alone,"

Both Tegan and I snapped our attention from each other to the booming voice nearby. I didn't know what I was expecting at that moment, or whom I was expecting, but when I turned my head to gander down the hall, my heart skipped a beat. Ashton stood a couple of yards away from the scene with his eyebrows furrowed. He slowly approached Tegan and I, the muscles in his broad shoulders flexing slightly as his arms moved at his side.

"Ash, no need to yell," Tegan giggled, crossing her arms above her chest with smirk, "I was only supplying Karris with a girl-to-girl pep talk."

"My ass," Ashton scoffed.

I cowered into myself, wanting to melt into a puddle and disappear altogether. Once again, I was disappointed in myself. I let Tegan's tirade mentally mess me up, and in the end I came out looking like a pathetic, little girl who needed saving.

Ashton's feet took one step forward, brushing a shoulder against Tegan to move her out of the way. His body completely blocked her out of my line of vision, but I wouldn't have known that if it weren't for the following gesture: a hooked finger beneath my chin. Ashton's gentle touch caused me to tilt my head upwards till my eyes locked with his.

Gazing at me with absolute concern, Ashton asked at a low whisper, "you alright, babydoll?"

"I will be," I nodded my head.

Ashton took a moment to gaze at me, as if trying to decipher wether or not I was lying. He still looked somewhat angry, but laced within that fury was an emotion I couldn't quite pinpoint. He turned over his shoulder to look at Tegan and with great snark he said,

"You can go now."

Without uttering another word, Ashton dropped to his knees and began gathering up the mess beneath us. Because his body was no longer there to barricade Tegan from myself, her eyes caught mine. And nuckin' futs, she shot me the scariest glare, yet. I gasped out of fear, and fell to my knees in order to avoid any more eye contact with Satan's wife.

"Thanks Ash," I smiled, continuing to seize my papers and folders from the floor.

"Do you like frozen yogurt?" Ashton asked, tapping the pile of paper in his hand against the ground.

"Is this a trick question?"

"Why would I trick anyone when it comes to delicious food?"

Both Ashton and I stood up as he handed me the stack of paper in his hand. I stuffed them into a random folder of mine, mentally reminding myself to reorganize them later.

"You trick people with food?" I cocked an eyebrow, "do you remember the BBQ sauce debacle in the boys locker room?"

"I said I was sorry," Ashton groaned, rubbing his face in frustration, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I giggled, "are you going to make it up to me with frozen yogurt?"

"Yes, babydoll," Ashton affirmed, "let's go, before I change my mind."

And just like that, I felt much better. It was funny the more I thought about it. How Ashton used to be the source of my headaches, but now he was becoming the bandaid to all my heartaches. When I first met Ashton, I didn't understand how my brother could ever speak so highly of him. But it was slowly dawning on me, all the reasons why.

Ashton took me to a local frozen yogurt shop not too far from school. Seeing that he was extra chirpy, he let me have the big cup and have as many toppings as my heart desired. The two of us sat at a small booth against the custard-colored wall towards the back of the parlor.

"You really like junk food, don't you?" Ashton eyed the large, paper cup of frozen confection before me as I dove right into the creamy dessert.

I nodded my head in bliss, "definitely. My mom doesn't really let me have too much junk in my diet. If she were here, she'd measure everything out perfectly so I'd get enough sugar to fill my cravings, but not too much to give me health problems.

"I think Michael mentioned something about that before," Ashton noted. "So, is your mom some kind of health specialist or something?"

"Close. She's a doctor," I told him proudly.

"And your dad?"

"He's an entrepreneur,"

"So, he runs a business?" Ashton pressed.

"You could say that," I smiled. I stuck the plastic spoon in my hand into my frozen yogurt, "let me see your phone."

"Why?" Ashton leaned back, gazing at me with suspicion.

"Calm down, I'm not going to disorganize your porn collection," I joked, causing Ashton to roll his eyes. "Seriously, let me see your phone real quick. You can trust me."

"I think that's the scary part," Ashton breathed, taking the device out of his pocket and placing it on the table top.

"What's scary?"

"Me trusting you,"

I sat stoic, contemplating Ashton's statement. Why was he scared to trust me? Of all people, me. I would never purposely hurt him, and secrets? I was really good at keeping them. Let's not forget about judgement; I never was one to really judge a person either.

"Here," Ashton slid his smart phone over to my side of the table.

I picked up the device, pressing the circular button at the bottom. To my surprise, there was no passcode, and continued my endeavors. I scanned each square icon on the screen, searching for a very specific, and very familiar phone app. And right there, on the second page, on the bottom row, in all its neon green glory, was FoodieBabble.

I slid Ashton's phone back to him with the app open, "this is my father."

"Wait a minute," Ashton's eyes grew wide, "are you saying..."

I nodded my head enthusiastically, pride glossing my eyes, "oh yes! My dad, Daniel Kenji Juarez Villanueva, founded America's number one food and social app."

"This is my favorite app to date," Ashton gushed, "I can't believe Gabe never told me about this!"

"Yea, that is weird," I wondered out loud, remembering Gabe's perpetual excitement whenever our dad's ingenious app was ever mentioned.

"Well, I mean this app did launch recently. It was still in the works when Gabe was still..." Ashton's voice immediately halted. He sucked in his breath, as if trying to suck in his previous words, and gazed at me with guilt.

"I forgot..." I let out a small smile, "the app was in the process of being funded when Gabe was still alive. He never got to see FoodieBabble come out of beta mode once it was funded."

"Hey," Ashton reached over to grab my hand and my eyes darted to the embrace, "I'm sure he would've loved it. Knowing him and his stomach, he would've used it all the time."

I laughed at his testament, "you're right... so what about your parents? What do they do?"

I meant to ask the question in hopes to learn more about Ashton. I truly believed it was a fair inquiry because he asked about my parents. But when he let go of my hand, the residual warmth on my skin as the only evidence that he ever held it, I knew that I may have pinched a nerve. His dimpled smile faded, and in replace were smooth lines of displeasure.

"My dad's a loser," Ashton declared cooly, "and my mom's a nurse."

"Sorry about your dad," I apologized, even though I knew an apology wouldn't change his home situation.

"It's whatever," he shrugged, taking the plastic spoon in his hand and punching it into the melting frozen yogurt.

"Is that why Coach Benson's at your house?" I asked.

My words came out of my mouth like vomit, faster than I could think them through. Hearing Ashton speak so ill about his father reminded me of the argument between Coach and him. The pieces of the puzzle were in front of me, and I just needed to put them together. However, knowing Ashton, there was no way he was going to give me a glimpse of what the finished picture would look like.

"Drop the subject, babydoll," Ashton sneered, "I'm not talking about that."

"I-uh-sorry," I quickly averted my gaze away from Ashton, "I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to know you better."

"Questions about my family are off limits," Ashton proclaimed in irritation.

You see, I was able to understand many things. I was able to sympathize, grasp notions, and know how to apologize when I seemingly cross the line. However, Ashton's one stipulation completely caught me off guard.

"But you can ask about mine?" I breathed, "and keep secrets about my dead twin to yourself?"

"Karris, I--"

"--no!" I interrupted, "look, I'm sorry if your father is a touchy subject, and I didn't mean to strike a nerve, but how is it okay for you to know things about my life when I'm not allowed to know an ounce about yours?"

"My life isn't yours to know about," Ashton spoke through gritted teeth as he smacked his hand against the table top in frustration.

"You're right, I don't need to know anything about your family, but I need to know about mine," I expressed, standing up from the booth's cushioned seat, "in case it slipped your mind, my brother was ripped away from me. You knew him so well, and all I want is to learn everything about the brother I no longer have."

I sidled out of the booth, shooting Ashton one last disappointed glare before storming out of the frozen yogurt place in ire. I sped walked down the concrete sidewalk beneath the awning of the shopping plaza till I hit the corner of Hesperia and Idyllwild Avenue. When I pressed the silver button to activate the crossing signal, did a little part of me regret walking out on Ashton-- he was my ride back home, and my school bag was still inside his car.

Yet my mind had the knack and agency for replaying memories I no longer wanted to associate myself with, and because of that, Ashton's demand clouded my thoughts. His brain held so much undisclosed information about my brother and I was vying to know more about him. I get the chance to grow up, to change, and to learn, and my twin was supposed to be a part of the journey. But now...

"What the fuck, Karris?"

My attention snapped in the direction of my name, where it oozed out with fury. At the stoplight, in his car, was Ashton. His head stuck out the window as he stared at me with narrowed brows.

"Get in the car, you're not walking home," his commanding voice was laced with irritation.

I stood there quietly, contemplating over my options. The car that had pulled up behind Ashton suddenly honked its horn when the streetlight changed to green. The hockey captain refused to move an inch.

"Karebear," Ashton warned.

"You can't call me that,"

"Get in the car and I won't,"

"Tell me something about my brother and I will,"

Ashton groaned, his eyelid twitching at my negotiation, all while the green light switched back to red, and a slew of profanities soared out of the enraged driver behind him. The car honked its horn several times in a row before ending in one, long, drawn-out uproar.

"Fine!" Ashton gave in, causing me to smile.

I rounded the front of the car, opening up the passenger side door before slipping inside. As I strapped myself in, the light turned back to green and Ashton slammed on the gas pedal, taking a sharp left turn. My body flew in the seat, colliding against the side window.

"Ash, calm down," I exasperated, rubbing my shoulder to ease the pain.

"You infuriate me, babydoll," Ashton replied, keeping his eyes on the road before him.

"I don't mean to," I glanced at the boy next to me, who had one hand on the wheel, and the other resting on the gear stick. I don't know where the feeling came from, but I suddenly felt like reaching over to hold his hand; to feel the warmth prickle my skin, like it once did in the frozen yogurt parlor.

"When was the last time you've been in Gabe's room?" Ashton suddenly asked.

"July," I told him honestly.

Ashton turned his head for a moment to look at me with wonder in his eyes, "July?"

"July,"

"Has anyone in your family been in Gabe's room since then?"

I shook my head, "no."

"In Gabe's room, wedged between his bed and the wall, is a hidden air vent," Ashton began, "it's one of his hiding spots."

I gazed at Ashton, mulling over the new information. Gabe had a hiding spot, so what? I had one too, and I was pretty sure Ashton did also. But what was hidden, was my main concern. Since no one had been in my brother's room since he died, then whatever was hiding in that vent was still there, and I couldn't wait to get home to check it out myself.

Ashton pulled up to my house and parked against the curb. My dad's car was parked on the driveway and I knew at least one of my parents were home.

"Thanks for the ride back," I picked up my messenger bag off of the floor of the car, "and the froyo."

"Check out that air vent,"

I nodded my head, and without another word, I opened the car door. I stepped outside and headed up the pathway towards the main entrance of my home. I could hear Ashton rev his engine before the sound of rubber tires to asphalt filled my ears, and I knew he was driving away. I took out my house keys from the side pocket of my bag, and slipped the silver key into the knob.

Home smelled like home the moment I opened the door. The ever-welcoming aroma of my father's cooking wafted into my nose and only happy memories filled my mind. It was only natural that a foodie like my dad would come up with a phone app that centered around food and its aptness to create community.

"Anak, is that you?"

(translation: child; dear)

"Yes, tay,"

(translation: dad)

"Come try this soup!" He was excited about whatever he was concocting in the kitchen, and I knew whatever was on the stove would be a delight.

"Let me use the bathroom first," I lied, running up the carpeted steps to the second floor.

I sauntered down the hallway where my room, the bathroom, and Gabe's room was. It was the door on the left side, directly across from mine, and the only door that has been kept shut since the summer. I approached the barricade, my arm reaching for the silver knob. My fingers grazed the cool material, shaking as I grasped it.

It was frozen in time.

My twin's room was stuck in an endless summer; at a standstill on the timeline. Nothing had been packed up, cleaned, or organized. The All Time Low posters, the photograph of him and I, even the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of his bed hadn't moved. I walked further into Gabe's room, dropping my messenger bag onto the floor as I scanned the area. My eyes landed on the unmade bed, so without hesitation, I climbed on top of it. I crawled across the mattress till I hit the wall and took a peek at the small opening.

"He was right," I muttered to myself.

Just like Ashton said, there was a hidden air vent; an air vent that I probably only seen just once when we first moved into this house. So out of curiosity, I wedged my hand in the opening, feeling for the vent. It seemed like the screws didn't exist anymore, and when I stuck my finger in between the panel, the cover came completely off.

"Alright Gabriel Villanueva, what are you hiding?" I stuck my hand into the hole, feeling around for whatever could be inside, all while praying that there wasn't a man-eating spider ready to pounce.

But then my hand landed on what felt like a box. I pulled out the object and only then did I realize the heaviness of it. Placing it on top of the bed, I examined the bin. It was decent sized, glass box with a silver latch that seemed to keep it air-tight. When I opened it, my eyes widened with surprise, before I keeled over in hysterical laughter.

Weed.

My star brother was hiding a couple of canisters of weed, in addition to a glass pipe and rolling paper. My stomach was starting to hurt from all the laughing and what was so funny to me, was the idea that my twin was just like any other teen. And I think that's what Ashton wanted me to know when he told me about Gabe's hiding place-- that despite the high pedestal people put him on, despite the labels his peers branded him with, my brother was just a normal kid... just like me.

"Thanks Ash," 

✖

Happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate :) Hoping your tummies are filled with lots of delicious food!

It's been too long and I'm SO SORRY for not updating in such a long time. School, as always, is the bane of my existence. It's hard and takes too much time away from me. I hope this chapter is enjoyable and makes up for the lack of updates in a long time!

Thank you!