May's Story (Chapter One)

May's Story
_{by Allexis Roberge}

beginning


Chris was holding my hand, we were walking, but my eyes haven’t adjusted to the bright white light that surrounded and brought color to the blurs around us. I have no idea where we are or why. He turned to me and looked deep into my eyes. I felt like he was looking through me. “I love you, May.” I looked down and saw a cliff next to us and a house behind us. There where peach-colored blurs all around us. My head spun like the air around me. I spoke to him, feeling like I was holding down vomit.
“I love you too, Chris.” I said this falling. I’m alone, and I see the ground. The earth raced by me so quick. I try to breathe in the sharp, warm air, but I lost it as it rushed into my throat and lungs. Then the bottom was within reach, and I hit the ground.
“So, when you divide a fraction you always…” I shot up, realizing I was dreaming. These damn nightmares are constant, I’ve had them for a while, but they never used to be as bad as they’re getting.
My teacher still babbled on about something I learned in fifth grade. God, I hate this school.
I looked around the classroom empty-mindedly. A calendar hung to the left of my teacher’s bald head. Retire already, I thought bitterly. A big red circle was drawn around Monday, the day we leave for Camp Cara Torcida. I am kind of excited, but mostly just to get out of school for a week and do nothing but hang out with friends.
I giggled a little, excited, and my long, brown hair fell in front of my face. It screamed a reminder of the fact it needs to be cut. I jerked my head back slightly, making the hair fly back to its place. If I didn’t straighten it, it would probably only reach the bottom of my rib cage, but the way I do it every day makes it fall to my waist. It brings attention to my tiny tummy and curvy waist, though. I do like it. Now that I’m skinny I like to show it off.
I used to be fat. My stomach had rolls when I slouched over. I hated myself more than anything. I didn’t wear makeup, or put time into choosing my clothes, I just didn’t care. I’m a lot better now. Tight stomach, designer clothes, everything that everybody ever wanted me to be.
Well, maybe except for Chris.
Chris and I are tight. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, because Chris’s and my mom were high school friends. I know that he likes me, a lot. I like him, too. It’s just neither of us had the nerve to put our friendship on the line. He’s my best friend and I’m his. We’ve only gotten into a fight once and that about me changing my look. He said I am beautiful and I’m just messing that up to impress others. I remember that night. We were sitting in my room about two o’clock in the morning, staying up late, because we decided we would go to the first day of freshman year without sleeping. My mom doesn’t care, she loves Chris. He’s like a son to her.
We were just talking when he brought up that I lost a lot of weight. Then about how my wardrobe was different. He started scolding me about changing my appearance.
“Why the hell would you change who you are comfortable being?” He pressured, lying on the floor where I sat on my knees, looking at the ceiling spaced.
“I want to be popular like you and Caitlyn and Josh,” I answered excitedly, thinking about how everyone’s going to notice my gorgeous new look.
But he wasn’t happy. He shot up, resting on his elbows. “We’re not any more popular than you are. In fact, everyone loves you, May. Just the way you are.”
I looked away angrily. “No one does.”
That really ticked him off. He stood up and for the first time ever, he yelled at me. “How could you say that?” He yelled. “Are you stupid?!”
I quickly backed down, looking up at him defenselessly, “Chris, stop yelling at me. You’re scaring me.”
“You know what?!” He grabbed his stuff and headed for my door. “I’m out of here. Fuck this, May. Apparently, Caitlyn’s no one. Apparently Josh, Sarah, Bryanna, EVERYBODY is no one.” He opened to the door and shot a disgusted look at me. “Apparently, I’m no one.”
I never figured out why he got so mad about this. I jumped and quickly followed him, stopping myself right at the door, “Please, Chris! Don’t leave! Please don’t leave, Chris! I’m sorry! Please!”
He stopped where he was and sighed. He thought about it, then in the same motion turned around and walked to me until he was inches away, “May, I’m sorry I yelled. But you need to realize you shouldn’t have to change yourself for people who don’t like you, which isn’t many. Seriously, that’s not cool what you said.”
I almost started crying, but I blinked back the tears. I don’t cry for anything. “I’m sorry,” I said softly and weakly.
He kissed my forehead, which reached his nose perfectly standing up straight, and tossed his stuff by me and into my room. I smiled and leaned in to his open arms.
Sure, he was right. He normally is. God, I love him.
I noticed the teacher paying a little more attention to me than needed, so I flipped open my notebook, pretending to take notes. I sighed at the picture someone drew of me, falling off a cliff. I flipped the page to see a picture of Chris, flames drawn messily around his body, with a knife in his ribcage. Another of Caitlyn, my best friend, with a cracked neck and her waist-down missing. Then Bryanna, a really quiet girl in my class, with a pair of ripped jeans and her knee cap sticking out, but face was bloody and it looked like bone that was sanded down in some areas, but I didn’t understand what it was. Then a person who doesn’t have a face, just a big flesh swirl that swirls in. Someone has been drawing these pictures, there’s a new one every day. I flipped it again to see the new one for today, Jessica, a gorgeous, outgoing girl in my class, in tiny, chewed up pieces. I wouldn't be able to tell who she was if the person didn't write the people's names in big, bubbly letters above the nasty drawings. Whoever is doing this to me is sick.
These drawings weren’t the only strange things that happen in my life, weird dreams and sometimes I see red tints in the mirror and other times, I randomly smell foul things and feel like I’m being watched. Ever since the day after Pepsi Singing Contest.
Man, did that contest lead to several big events. The murder of some girl, then the camp we’re going to next week, then the suicide of the Pepsi company’s owner. Weird.
My chorus group went to the contest two years ago as a field trip. Some girl who participated in it was murdered for some reason. The Pepsi company, in fear of being sued, came into an agreement with the family of the victim that instead of giving them money, Pepsi would build an educational camp for kids.
Then the owner killed himself after naming the it Camp Cara Torcida, which means something stupid about a messed up face or something in some stupid language no one cares about, really.
The article in the newspaper said that he was acting very weird and snappy, he would not stop sweating, and he told the people he hired to manage the camp that the freshman class of my school would go first. He signed the name of the camp, then shoved scissors in his eyes and jumped out of his window in corporation’s building, which him being the owner and all, was one of the highest windows in the twenty-nine story building.
That guy had serious demons.
“May,” Mr. Jacobs said, seeing I wasn’t paying attention. “Can I ask what is going through your mind? Yes, go on, share what you’re thinking about,” I hate that about him. He always acted like he was better than us, just because he was a teacher. What a jerk.
“Ummmm, well, I-”
Chris's voice smoothed over all of ours, making everyone's eyes shoot to him. He didn't seem to mind, his feet on this desk and his hat spinning on his fingers. “Well she probably can’t hear you,” Mr. Jacobs shot him a nasty look of I-was-picking-on-May-leave-me-alone. Chris chuckled, still not bothering to look at him, and continued defensively, “just saying. I know I can’t.”
Mr. Jacobs glared at me. “Is this true?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said.
Chris smiled at me and I smiled back warmly. He winked at me, and I felt my stomach lighten a little as I felt my cheeks start to burn.
“There isn’t really anywhere else for her to sit. Except next to me, I mean,” he said smiling.
“You just said you couldn’t hear,” he teacher argued.
“Well, yeah, but because I’m closer to you, she’s have more of a chance of hearing you, I’m just choosing not to listen.”
The class chuckled, and he started getting mad about the disruption.
Mr. Jacobs dropped his book on the desk in front of him and quickly glanced around the classroom. “Just go! Sit next to him! I don’t care!” His bright pink face shined a little of the lights in the ceiling. I giggled again as I collected my stuff.
I walked to the other seat. I sat down and placed my notebook on top of the brown, graffiti-covered desk, sliding my purple gel-pen out of the spiral binding.
I looked at my new desk neighbor. He smiled at me again. His teeth reminded me of white out. He had a full-faced smile, his eyes squinting a little, even though his jaw line was muscular, and his cheeks were tight. He’s so beautiful.
I found him smirking at my tiny blush, which made me blush more. He still smiled as he wrote messily on a scrap piece of paper and leaned over, placing it on my desk. I picked it up and it read, ‘Hey, beautiful.’ I smiled and wrote back.
‘Hey, Sexy. What’s up?’ I crumpled it up and threw it at him, and it hit his tan cheek. I held in a laugh and he unfolded it smiling.
The teacher was starting to get annoying, his hoarse voice not stopping once. It almost seemed like he wasn’t taking time between each sentence to breathe.
I jumped up as a crumpled ball of paper landed in front of me.
‘Nothing. I was just wondering if you’re still up for bunking with me.’
Camp Cara Torcida was like a camp outdoors, but from the pictures we’ve seen, it looks like a hotel inside, where we'll be sleeping. There’s forty rooms on each of five floors, we’ll be on the fifth floor, and each room has two bunk-beds. You can choose whoever you want to bunk with you, and if you ask early enough, you can choose who sleeps in the other bunks. Me, Chris, Caitlyn, and Josh all called dibs first and got our room.
‘Yeah, definitely, why would I ever change my mind?’
* * *
I walked through my front door indifferently and shrugged my bag off my shoulder. I opened it as I saw my mom sitting at the table with my credit card bill from the corner of my eye. She looked up and said, “Why can’t you be a normal teen and spend over your budget?” She chuckled. I laughed and started on my homework. “How was your day?”
“Eh, it was the same as always,” I said.
My mom got up and pulled out a pan, humming the tune of ‘Sexy Back’ and started cooking me a grilled cheese sandwich. I smiled and started on my homework. Algebra, a little bit of Physical Science, and a report for my English class, I’ll be done in about seven minutes.
I quickly rushed through Algebra, and by the time my mom was done cooking for me, a nice grilled cheese with a nice hot cocoa for a drink, I was finished with my science.
“Mom, I need to interview you for English,” I called, sipping on my cocoa.
She put down the paper and sat on the counter, “Sure,” she said with a bright smile.
“How do you feel about comas?”
“Gay,” she giggled. I almost spit out my drink laughing.
“No one says that anymore! It’s offensive, mom!” This made her laugh harder.
“No, but seriously, mom.”
“I seriously don’t give a-”
“MOM!”
She breathed out and smiled sarcastically. “Comas are an important part of the English language and I feel we should worship them.”
I wrote down the first part of her answer.
“When was the last time you really put thought into using a coma?” I recited off the paper.
“When was the last time your farther enforced the rules he makes?” She asked indifferently. I slightly laughed at him, I can do what I want and when, my dad might say ‘no’, but I hate him too much to listen, and he’s too pathetic to do anything about it. I huffed out, a little frustrated and put in some random answer I came up with instead of my mom’s answer. She got off the counter and started refolding the newspaper and placed it next to her on the counter.
I looked down at the next question, which rattled me a little. I could of sworn it was going to be another dumb question about comas, but it was extremely off-topic and a little random.
“Uh, ok? Mom, when was the last time you had a nightmare?”
She blinked a little, and turned away, facing the sink instead of me. “Last night,” she mumbled.
The next question was even weirder. “What was it about?” I recited.
She paused, thinking about her answer. “You,” but she turned to me and smiled, “growing up too fast.”
“Awe, mom!” I smiled and went to write her answer, but the next question caught my eye. It wasn’t a question at all. In big, black lettering it said ‘She’s lying.’
I went to say something but I heard the door open. My dad walked in, his crouched posture slugging the rest of his body into the kitchen.
“Your father’s home, May. Why don’t you go upstairs?” She suggested. I looked down but stayed where I was.
Your father’s home, May,” My dad mimicked rudely as he approached the door of the kitchen. “She can stay right here and watch you explain to her that you’re a lying whore!” He screamed, stopping and stumbling at the doorway. I could smell the beer for where I was sitting.
“Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with her back to us both, doing the dishes. She said it in monotone, she gave up in putting emotion into it, this argument was a daily thing. I started gathering my stuff and put it away. I couldn’t help but notice my paper no longer said ‘She’s lying’ on it, but I brushed it off, thinking I must’ve read a question wrong or something.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You cheating scum! I’m the best thing you’ll ever get!”
“Obviously not if she’s cheating on you,” I mumbled under my breath, putting the last paper in my bag, not even bothering to face him.
“What did you say, young lady?” My dad yelled, shooting a challenging look at me.
I jumped from my chair, swung my bag on my shoulders, and leaned in closer so this time the bastard would hear me, “OBVIOUSLY NOT IF SHE’S CHEATING ON YOU!” I screamed.
“Lauran! Look what you taught my daughter!” He screamed at my mom.
“I’m more her daughter than I am yours!” I yelled at him.
He cracked a drunk smile, “Ah, but that’s not true, you little idiot. Lauran isn-”
A dish came flying by his face as my mom screamed, “Watch yourself, Henry!” She looked like she was ready to charge at him, anger slouching her back
“LAURAN!” He cried.
She calmed down a little, and turned back to the sink. “Don’t call May names. She’s on top of her class. You would know that if you actually talked to her every now and then.”
He started getting defensive, “I try!”
“I don’t let him, I hate him. He’s a prick.”
He turned to me, “You’re a whore!” He spat angrily.
I stood up and got in his face, “Don’t you ever call me that again! Didn’t Chris teach you that last time?!”
His hand shot to his eye as if it was going to happen again. “Leave you’re man-slut out of this,” he mumbled.
“Coming from you!” I screamed.
My dad looked up to my mom for help, but she had no interest in helping him.
She continued with the dishes. “Now listen to your daughter, honey,” She said sarcastically, not even looking up.
I held in a slight giggle as his face started changing its color. I decided to leave it as it was and go to my room. As I started walking away, my mom called to me, “I’m sorry you where put into that, May.”
I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps approach her and darkly mumble, “Shut up, whore.”
“It’s not your fault. You’re not the one calling me and my dad names and then expecting me to stand up for you, because I like you or something!” I said from the stairs, my sarcasm angled towards my dad. She laughed hard, but her laugh was cut short but a noise of a fist hitting someone’s face, and then a cry.
I hurried my pace up the stairs as more blows and cries rained into my ears.
My blue room was laced with posters from the Black Eyed Peas and such. I went under my green pillows and pulled out my parent’s wedding video. My dad threw it away long ago. When I found it in the trash, I instantly hated him. My mother is a good person. She loves me enough to deal with dad; dad doesn’t care the least bit.
I popped the tape in and realized I forgot to rewind it last time I watched it. When I was about it hit the rewind button, another movie recorded on the tape emerged from the fuzz.
It was my mom when she was younger. Her wavy, blond hair, curly and frizzy now, was up to her shoulders. She held a baby, most likely me and was reading papers.
“So, she’s legally May now, right?” She asked.
My dad’s voice came in over the camera, “Yup, and now I can start my whole life over.” My heart sank as she smiled lovingly at him. They used to be in love.
Then the tape stopped.
I turned around to see my father with the remote.
“I-I threw that tape away,” He stuttered, still panting and red-faced from what he was doing downstairs.
“Get out of my room,” I said coldly, not even looking over my shoulder to face him.
“What did you see?” He demanded.
“None of your business. GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” I screamed, jumping up and pointing to the door, just in case his drunken ass couldn’t figure out where that is.
He went for the player but I grabbed the tape before him.
I cursed at him and completely lost it.
“THIS IS YOUR WEDDING VIDEO!!! YOUR SUPPOESED TO PROTECT IT NOT RUIN IT!” I screamed, bright faced.
Before I could even breathe in, the back of his hand made fast, sharp, and hard contact with my cheek.
I stared up at him from the floor, hatred seething from my eyes, hoping his caught what I was pitching. My cheek screamed painfully, bright pink.
He took a second to realize what he had done, and had tears in his eyes as he ran out of my room and thumped down the stairs heavily.
He must’ve sobered up a little. He would’ve laughed and did it again if he was drunk.
I leaned over and grabbed the video, gripping the video tight to my chest, holding on strong. Last time I cried was in fourth grade. I don’t cry. I plan to keep it that way.
I looked out my window to see if Caitlyn was sitting on her roof. Yes! She was!
Caitlyn and I are best friends. We built a small bridge by laying a bunch of two-by-fours across our roofs so we can slip into each others rooms or just to sit on the roof and chat.
I slipped out of my window, balanced by way carefully across the bridge, and sat on her roof.
“How much did you see?”
“All of it,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes away from my cheek. Her words were cold, as if she was trying to cap any emotion.
I wanted to act like my dad didn’t just hit me. “My dad knows not to go in my room. He knows how much I hate him,” I scowled. “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to get a restraining order!” I grunted angrily yet not exactly paying attention to the conversation.
“Can you do that?” She said, respecting that I didn’t want to talk about it and resting her elbows on her raised knees and her head on her arms.
I shot back to the conversation, “What?”
“Get a restraining order against your own family? I’d LOVE one against my brother!” She smirked, trying to brighten the conversation.
“I don’t know,” I replied, thinking about the random laws I would research on the computer when I had nothing better to do.
“Hey you’re the one who wants to be a lawyer!” She exclaimed. “You should know this stuff!”
I smiled, my cheek didn’t burn as much. “Just because I am super smart does not mean-”
“Yeah? Whatever,” She laughed.
I changed the subject, still smiling, “You going to the dance?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to go with me again?” I bent my legs behind me.
She smiled wildly, gloating a bit. “Nope,” she said brusquely. “I have a date to go with. Josh,” she sighed, slightly blushing and smiling pathetically.
“Well,” I stared at Chris’s house which happens to be across of Caitlyn’s house. “there’s always Chris,” I finished, lost in my gaze.
She looked where I gazed and laughed. “You so like him!”
My gaze broke sharply. “No.”
She playfully slapped my leg.
“Owe!” I called out, hitting her in the shoulder lightly.
“Why won’t you go out with him?”
I smirked as I saw him look out the window and see us.
I turned my head and looked at her seriously, “We’re not like that.” I cringed slightly at the fact I was telling myself more than I was telling her.
He smirked back, nodding his head at me slightly, and closed the curtains.
“You’re such a babe,” She said, rolling her eyes as Chris come out of his house. He had his boxers a bit higher than his jeans and no shirt.
He so just dressed up to hang out with me. I smiled at the thought, and then laughed about it. Loser. I sighed. My loser.
“Can I come up and join you ladies?” He called, holding two cups full of some liquid, hopefully soda or Slushies.
“Yeah, go through my house, just let my mom know,” I said, smiling pleasantly.
My mom was so used to Chris that he could just walk in and be like, “Hi, mom!” and she’s smile and talk with him like they were best friends or something. It’s kind of weird.
He hates my dad more than anyone. The one time when he first stood up to my dad, not too long ago, Chris and I were watching T.V. on the couch, and he stumbled in, drunk. He started yelling about Chris, saying that he and I were having sex every night and stupid stuff like that. Chris would calmly explain that we were just good friends and nothing more after each drunken rant, but my dad would just repeat the previous statements.
My mom was shopping at the time, so no one could come to my rescue when my dad started calling my names, or so I thought. Once my dad called me a whore, Chris jumped up from the couch and punched my dad in the face, making hard contact with his eye.
He started packing up but I begged him not to go. He didn’t leave, especially when my dad pulled out more whiskey and started pouring himself shots, completely ignoring the fact a 15 year old just kicked his ass.
I followed him with my eyes as he easily swaggered his way into my house. I let out my breath, realizing I was holding it. Caitlyn noticed and laughed at me.
“Caitlyn… Don’t tell Chris what happened.”
She just looked at me. I knew she would anyways.
“He might hurt my dad, he cares about me…”
She ignored it. “Just date him.”
“Caitlyn, I already said we’re not like that,” I said sternly.
“Like what, May? Because I’ll tell you what you’re like.” She said while dropping her legs in front of her in sudden interest of her own rant.
“Caitlyn, no-“ I started, but she interrupted me.
“What you and Chris are like, is two total idiots who are completely head over heels for each other, and both of them are two stupid to confess their love for the other! Everyone knows! My God!”
“Sounds like you and Josh, don’t it?” I challenged her. She blushed and Chris’s deep voice danced in my ear.
“Hey, guys!” Chris chimed as he walked along the bridge, holding a banana and grape Slushie. He knows grape’s my favorite. He gave Caitlyn the banana one and sat down next to me, holding out his cup in an offering form, showing me his intentions the whole time was to share with me.
“So… watcha’ been talkin’ bout?” He asked randomly as I sipped the Slushie from his hand.
“Chris, May’s farther hit her,” Caitlyn blurted out against my wishes, looking at him hoping he could do something.
His face turned serious. “When?”
“Just now. I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t, I’m not a good friend..” She said trailing off.
She was proud of telling on my dad. She didn’t avoid my eyes or anything. I guess I was kind of frustrated, but there was nothing I could do, and I’d be lying if I said he doesn’t deserve whatever he gets.
Anger clouded his face, then some emotion that almost looked like embarrassment. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Are you okay?”
I nodded, but changed the subject the minute I could.
“Looks like Caitlyn won’t go to the dance with me,” I said, shifting my straw and avoiding his eyes.
Caitlyn jumped at the first chance to help hook us up. “Whatever will she do?” Caitlyn said, queuing Chris.
“Well is there any chance she’d want to go with me?” Chris asked Caitlyn.
“I think she’d love that,” Caitlyn answered for me. I held back a blush and hid behind my cup.
* * *
The dance was really fun. We danced a lot until we were exhausted, which only happened once or twice, and then we just talked until our energy was back up. The last song was a slow song. He took my hand and eyed me a question, which I shyly nodded my head to, and I wrapped my arms around my neck, slightly blushing when I felt his firm hands on my hips, and started turning and rocking.
At the end of the dance, before I walked home, he grabbed both my hands and looked at me passionately. I felt my lungs build up and get ready to explode, which is when I remembered to breathe. My head felt light but my neck was heavy, the pressure made it feel as if I was going to faint. He leaned towards my face and pressed his damp forehead against mine. He breathed out as I breathed in and I could taste the gum that caked his breath a tasty mint. I wanted him so much. The lust of just one sweet taste of his lips was so thick it was almost tangible in the thick air the rushed around us.
After our moment, he turned and walked me home. I hugged him goodbye and slugged inside, terrified of being on my own after a night like this. As much I denied it and told myself we’re just friends, the burning hate for not kissing him lingered in my heavy stomach.
But as I started up the stairs, my door swung open and Chris walked in. “Can I sleep over?”
I couldn’t stop the gigantic smile that lightened my face instantly. “Yes!”
* * *
I was sitting on my bed, aimlessly playing with my fake nails, thinking about what happened. I looked over at Chris, who was laying on the floor on his back, eyes closed, looking like he was ready to fall asleep. His breathing was heavy, and I watched his chest rise and fall slowly.
“Chris?”
“Mm, yeah?” He mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.
“You know tonight? After the dance, I mean, before you walked me home?”
He paused, recollecting in his head what happened, then questioned, “Yeah?”
“I wanted to kiss you.”
He just nodded, with his eyes still closed, and said, “Mhm.”
I stopped playing with my nails, spun my legs around so I was at the edge of my bed, and stared him down. “I've wanted to kiss you since I can remember. I've wanted to kiss you when I was ten, I've wanted to kiss you earlier tonight, and I want to kiss you, now.”
His chest stopped moving and his eyes shot open. He thought for a couple of long seconds, then shot himself up and turned, facing me. He grabbed my face with both of his firm hands, and I closed my eyes, waiting for him.
Time ticked by, he never came. I opened my eyes, he was still there, his hands trembling against my face, and the look of unexplainable terror on his face. He stopped shaking, and sighed, slowly dropped his eyes and letting his hands just slide off my face and down to his sides. “I can't,” he whispered. Before I could move, he turned back over, and closed his eyes again.
Numbness ran through my veins with my blood. I didn't understand...
More time passed, and finally, I managed to say through tears, “Don't you want to?”
He acted like he was sleeping.
I laid down, sighing, and closed my eyes, falling into a restless sleep.
***
I walked down into the kitchen with Chris, the sun violating my eyes painfully. My hair was messily tied up and I was still in my pajamas. I was an utter mess, but Chris has seen me like this multiple times, so it didn’t matter anymore.
He was behind me, his eyes squinting too. He was wearing the pajama bottoms he left here last time he visited, and walked around shirtless. I was used to it, but it still was really hot.
Mom was cooking breakfast and dad was sitting at the table, a beer already in hand.
Mom seemed to avoid facing us as she spoke. “Oh, Chris, hey. I didn’t know you were here. I’ll cook you breakfast.”
He smiled gratefully and sat down next to me, I sat in between him and my dad.
I shifted uncomfortably when I noticed the weird layer of awkward in the quiet air. Then, I remembered Chris knowing what my dad did. I swallowed, in fear of what might happen.
My mom came over to us, placing several plates of pancakes, bacon, and eggs in front of us, and I gasped when I saw her blackish-blue eye. “Mom!”
She ignored it. We all knew what happened.
Chris started eating angrily.
“Hello, Christopher,” my dad said, slurring and laughing a bit.
I saw him grinding his teeth in his mouth. Hold it down, Chris. I know what you want to do… I looked over to make sure there was a big space between Chris and the knives.
“Hello, Mr. Helotes,” he grunted, politely.
“How’s your mother doing?” He asked.
“I’d tell you if you cared,” Chris said, eyeing my dad challengingly.
“Of course I care,” he said, then yawned disrespectfully and started laughing at himself.
“You seem to lack respect for women, Mr. Helotes,” Chris started to rise out of his seat.
“What do you mean?” Dad said over his coffee mug, not listening really.
“Hitting your wife.” Mom looked at him thankful that someone was there to stand up for her. “And you even dared to stoop low enough to hit your daughter. May can’t stand up for herself. What were you thinking?” He said, his voice rising and quivering with anger.
My stomach flipped nervously.
Mom quickly turned her head to me. “He hit you?!”
Dad laughed. “It taught her a little respect.”
Chris lunged himself across the table and landed on my dad, who fell out of his chair and hit his head off the floor.
Chris punched him again and again, screaming that he’d teach him some damn respect. I jumped up from my seat and pulled Chris off of my dad, who sat there and took the blows dumbly.
My mom stood up and looked at Chris, who stood above my dad, still cooling off. Before he walked away, Chris stomped on my dad’s pants right where you shouldn’t kick a guy, and my dad groaned loudly and rolled on his side. My mom rushed us out of the room, but before she turned around to walk back in the room, she leaned over and whispered, “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
***
Monday, The day I go to Camp Cara Torcida.
I walked on the bus as a teacher yelled, “BUNKMATES SIT TOGETHER!”
I walked down the middle until I found Chris in the very back seat. I started looking around to see who was sitting with whom.
My face twisted a bit when I saw this really cool kid name Brian sit with the class whore, Danielle. She has slept around multiple times with multiple people, sometimes not just boys. She was really mean to the other girls who weren’t in her cliché.
But Brian isn’t shallow like her; I’m sure he just wants to get in her pants.
I yawned. “Tired, huh?” Josh asked from the seat before me.
“I didn’t get any sleep.”
He said something and Chris laughed, but I was too tired to make out the words. I laid back and fell asleep.
“What’s going on?” The stage was full of people, screaming and cheering.
“Where am I?”
A younger girl walked up to me. She had a white dress on, which had a silky under layer, a lacy over-layer, and a teal bow around her waist, which met the end of her red, frizzy hair. She seemed really scared, but she forged a smile. She was beautiful, and for some reason, she looked really familiar.
“You won!” she congratulated with fake, flowing enthusiasm. 
“What? What’s going on?”
Then everything was black.
Two shadowed outlines of tall men appeared from a distance. They took the girl into a full-sized van. “HELP!” She screamed.
I was in the van. The girl had duct tape on her mouth and she was crying. “MMMLP!” She screamed. She wailed uncontrollably as the boys kicked and hit her, laughing. I was frozen still, my mind screamed ‘MOVE’ but my body can’t hear. They unzipped their flies laughing and I closed my eyes tight. I can’t watch this.
But then my eyes, like someone else could control them, flung open, and it seemed like time skipped over.
The guys went to go get something from the front seats of the van. A tall, lanky man with a teenage posture came back carrying a big trash bag. The other, a blonde man who looked about in his thirties, carried a hand saw.
I opened my eyes and jumped up straight from Chris’s shoulder. I’m on the same the same bus, with the same kids. No van. No girl.
I sighed, relief sweeping through my body.
“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”
I looked at Chris. My warming relief turned quickly into ice that made my hand shiver violently.
“How did-”
But he interrupted me. “It was really bad, wasn’t it?”
“Wait, how did you-” I found myself inching away from him until I was on the very edge of the small maroon seat.
“Tell me, May, what was it about?”
I made sure this wasn’t another bad dream. I pinched the palm of my hand with my pinky and thumb, but nothing happened.
“Was it about, THE BOOGIE MAN??!!” Josh jumped out from his seat and slapped Chris a high-five. They planned the whole thing. I let out the air, the air I seemed to forget about during his stupid prank, that felt like it was going to make my lungs cave in if I didn't breathe soon. I rolled my eyes and punched him in the shoulder. “Owe! Can’t you take a joke?” He said, rubbing his shoulder.
“You scared me!” I laughed. “I really was having a nightmare and then you, you little fucker, you scared the-”
“No need for the language, May,” a male teacher yelled over the other chattering kids. I shrunk back, embarrassed, and Chris wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I leaned against his warm body and start tracing the muscular lines of his arm with my fingers.
Him and Josh talked nonstop about stupid boy stuff, except for once when Chris asked about Caitlyn and Josh explained she was sleeping, and I felt myself drift off in the comfort of him arms.
Then out of the blue, everyone started cheering. I looked up and saw a big yellow sign that read ‘Camp Cara Torcida’. Oh, boy.