For the fans, p.6
For The Fans, page 6
Now it’s my turn to scoff. I hate to admit it, but he has a point. Avi and I spend a majority of our every encounter bickering, which is why I make it a point to ignore him as much as humanly possible when you share a house, a school, and a bathroom with someone. Something about just being in his general vicinity turns up my internal frustrations a few hundred notches, and I don’t need the stress.
I just want to get away from him for good. August cannot come soon enough.
“Good point. Let’s change the subject.” Avi leans back in his chair. “I was going to wait until after cake to share the good news, but I can’t hold it in anymore.”
He’s beaming, straight white teeth nearly blinding me. In fact, it’s making me wish I was blind, so I didn’t have to see that goddamn smile for one more second. It might be part of the reason I enjoy fucking with him at school… Turning that thing upside down gives me immense pleasure.
My dad and Hannah are eagerly awaiting Avi’s news, while I’m just sitting here, vigorously peeling chunks of label off my empty beer bottle.
“I’ve decided I won’t be going to Tufts,” Avi announces, and that gets me. My eyes spring up, and of course he’s staring right at me. “Because I got accepted to BC.”
What… the… fuck?!
I feel all the color drain from my face. My heart has completely stopped pumping and is just sitting in my chest like a dead hunk of meat.
No… No, no, no. No fucking way.
I don’t even notice how hard my fingers are digging into the table until they start to ache.
“Aviel! Oh my God, that’s amazing!” Hannah cheers, jumping up to hug her son.
“Congratulations, Avi!” My dad squeezes his shoulder. “Both of my boys going to Boston College!”
I’m gonna throw up.
“Go Eagles.” Avi grins at me while our parents freak out all around him. His dark eyebrow cocks. “Right, bro?”
Forcing myself into motion, I shove my chair back with a loud scrape. I feel physically sick and lightheaded as I stand up.
“Well… that’s just fucking perfect,” I croak, turning away from them and staggering inside the house, slamming the door behind me.
It’s a sliding door, so you really can’t slam it, which only serves to piss me off more. And I end up reopening and closing it four times just to slam it as hard as I can.
Completely unsatisfying. And now I look like even more of child having a temper tantrum.
“Fuck!” I growl out loud, ripping my hair at the roots.
This is such bullshit! I thought I was escaping him going to BC! Now he’s following me there, like some kind of unavoidable nuisance.
I’m shaking, I’m so angry. Stalking over to the birthday cake on the counter, I hock a massive, raging loogie and spit it right on top of the pretty chocolate frosting.
“Take that, asshole,” I teem.
Rushing through the house and up the stairs, I go to my bedroom and slam the door. Much better. I let out an even louder roar of frustration, grabbing the nearest item—a football trophy from middle school—and whipping it against the wall.
“Fuck you!” I seethe, pacing in circles. “Fuck you and your birthday. Fuck you and your BC acceptance letter… Fuck you and your smile! Fuck you fuck you fuck you!”
I’m fuming and can barely see through the red. I fucking hate him! I fucking despise him for stealing literally everything I have. Everything that was mine is now his, and it’s almost devastating.
Crawling onto my bed, I cover my head with my pillow and try my hardest to calm down. Sucking in breath after breath, I struggle to bite back the emotions.
Swallow them. Swallow swallow swallow.
Like fighting to eat something disgusting. Chew and fucking swallow it; push it all down; pack it into your gut.
“This isn’t a joke. You can’t just make things up like this, Kyran. I’m sure you’re overreacting.”
“Fuck you,” I breathe, choking on the emotions trying to scrape back up my throat like bile.
“I’m not making it up…”
“Yes, you are. Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying!”
“Fuck… you…” I whimper, with tears pushing behind my eyes.
Squeezing them shut tight, I scream into my bed, as loud as I can.
I’m twelve years old again… Screaming into the mattress. Screaming until my lungs hurt.
“You’ve destroyed everything…”
“Fuck!!” I scream. And cry.
And scream, and cry.
Until, exhausted and hoarse, I fall asleep, with my father’s disappointed tone lulling me in quiet torment.
I wake up to the sound of banging.
Lifting my head is difficult. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. My temples are throbbing, my face tight and my throat sore. Clearly, I fell asleep in a rage, which hasn’t happened in a while. Even on Thanksgiving, when my dad proposed to Hannah, it wasn’t this bad.
Slithering out of bed, I rub my eyes. It’s dark outside, which means I must have passed out for at least a few hours. Reaching for my nightstand, I grab a bottle of Excedrin Migraine and pop two. Unfortunately, the pounding in my head is being matched by the sound pounding nearby. It only takes me a few seconds to realize it’s coming from the bathroom door. Or rather, Avi’s bathroom door.
“Kyran! I need to get into the goddamn bathroom!” Avi shouts from inside his bedroom. “Unlock the fucking door, you wank!”
I grin to myself. I must have locked his door this morning before I left for school.
Oops.
Reclining in bed, I close my eyes, waiting for the medicine to kick in and fix this headache. The sounds of him cursing at me through two doors widens my evil smirk. But then it stops, and is replaced by footsteps, followed by a new banging, on my bedroom door.
“Kyran, stop being a whiny bitch and let me into the fucking bathroom!” he hollers at me from out in the hall.
“Use the downstairs one,” I grunt, just barely loud enough for him to hear me.
“No! All my stuff is in this one.” His voice is extra petulant, and it has me rolling my eyes.
“Not my problem, princess,” I huff, still smiling.
I don’t even care if he’s right about karma attacking me, because messing with him is all too satisfying. Especially now.
I’ll take it, if it means getting him back for what he’s taking of mine… My escape plan. It’s so much more important than his special Dove For Men soap he loves to use.
“You’re really being an epic prick, you know that?” he rants through the door. “So I’m going to BC… Big fucking deal. It’s not the end of the world.”
That’s it. My spine stiffens, and I stand up fast, stalking over to the door. Unlocking it, I whip it open, meeting a startled look on his face, as if he didn’t expect me to actually open it.
“Actually, it is,” I growl. “It is the end of the world. BC was supposed to get me away from you. And now you’re following me there like some clingy ex-girlfriend.”
He makes a face like he’s amused at my audacity, and it brings the fury back, bounding through my limbs once more.
“You don’t own Boston College.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I can go to school wherever I want. This is America… Land of the free to go into crippling student loan debt anywhere you choose.”
“Exactly,” I hiss. “So go somewhere else. You don’t even care about school.”
“What’s wrong, brother?” He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t wanna hang out with me for four more years?”
“I’d rather get kicked in the nuts for four years,” I mutter.
“Oh, well… that can be arranged.” He winks, and I’m about to explode.
Stepping up to his face, I smolder, “If you come to Boston College, I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell…”
But he doesn’t back down. In fact, he squares up to me and grins. “Game on, superstar. In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t intimidate me.”
“You’re gonna regret this,” I growl, inches from his face.
His brow arches. “You mean like your ex regrets not cheating on you sooner?”
Nope. I just can’t stuff it down anymore.
The wrath inside me bubbles over as I roar out loud and lunge at him.
Tackling him to the floor, I grab him by the throat. “I’ll wipe that fucking smirk off your face, you self-righteous prick!”
“Not before I wipe my ass with your face cloth, you epic toolbag!” he bellows while we wrestle each other on the floor of the hallway.
There are limbs everywhere. I’m choking him while he punches me in the sides, over and over. We’re rolling around, screaming and kicking. I’m pulling his hair, he’s biting me. It’s just a mess. The stupidest fight ever, and not that I want to think about it, but we really seem like brothers now more than ever. Which, of course, pisses me off even more.
“How was your birthday cake, loser?!” I knee him in the gut, and he grunts.
He pauses for a minute, gaping up at me while we both heave for breath. “It was good… Why?” I grin wickedly, and he gasps. “Oh my God, did you jizz in it?!”
My face scrunches into one of bewildered disgust. “Ew, what the fuck is wrong with you??”
“You did something to it, didn’t you?!” He twists my arm behind my back, and I whine.
“I spit on it!” I laugh breathlessly. “Hope you enjoyed eating my saliva, asshole!”
“Bitch!” he snarls, and we’re back to tumbling on the floor, fighting like eight-year-olds.
The sound of heavy footsteps breaks into the rushing blood in my ears, and I look up from where I have Avi in a headlock to meet the irate gazes of my father and stepmother.
“What the hell is going on here?!” my dad barks while he and Hannah rush up the steps.
He immediately pulls me off of Avi, while Hannah does the same to her son.
“Avi, let go of him!” she shrieks, and Avi finally releases a fistful of my hair. “Break it up, you two!”
“This is fucking ludicrous!” my father roars as they get us both upright again. Avi and I are disheveled and breathing heavily, still glaring at one another. “I won’t let this go on for one more second. All this fighting has to stop!”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I purse my lips, refusing to back down first. This is all his fault anyway… My stepbrother, who popped into my life for the sole purpose of ruining it.
“Whether you like it or not, you two are family now,” my father says firmly. “And you will act like it.”
“I want both of you to apologize and shake hands,” Hannah demands. “Right now.”
“He started it…” Avi mumbles, and Hannah slaps him on the chest.
“Aviel Vega, you’re an adult,” she hisses. “Act like it. Shake hands right now and apologize, or so help me, neither of you will see the outside of your bedrooms until you leave for college. Do you understand?”
Our stubborn glares remain locked for a couple more heavy seconds, before Avi rolls his eyes and mutters, “Sorry…”
“Me, too.” I force the words out. But my dad isn’t satisfied, and he shoves me forward. My jaw is tight as I grunt, “I’m… sorry,” and extend my hand.
Avi shakes it, limp and unenthused. Then we immediately turn and stomp into our respective bedrooms. And I hear my dad and Hannah mumbling about how obnoxious we are as they go back downstairs.
Ten seconds later, there’s one last bang from inside Avi’s room.
“The door, Kyran,” he growls.
Rolling my eyes, I stalk inside the bathroom and unlock his door. He flings it open, face still flushed with aggravation.
“I’m serious,” I mutter one last threat. “Stay the fuck away from me at BC, or next time, I’ll break your fucking nose.”
Spinning, I leave the bathroom, ignoring his words on my way out.
“You got it, superstar.”
CaptainJackSwallow: Ride my gag reflex like a pony
One Year Later…
(Freshman Year, Boston College)
“Oh, shit. Hide me.”
I crouch down on the bench I’m sitting on, using Frankie’s body as a shield.
“You’re an idiot, Vega,” she huffs, while Zeb and Micah laugh.
“Correction… He’s playing it smart,” Zeb sighs. “Olivia is as clingy as they come. Just ask this asshole.” He juts his thumb in Micah’s direction. “She followed him here from New Hampshire.”
“Okay, that’s not true.” Micah shakes his head. “We just both happened to come to BC. It’s a big school…”
“Don’t act like you didn’t come here just to escape her.” Zeb laughs.
“I can’t believe you hooked up with her.” Micah scolds me with his eyes as I finally straighten back up, now that Olivia Wheeler is out of sight.
“I was drunk,” I grumble, reaching for my last Twizzler and ripping off a bite between my teeth. “It was the freshman orientation party. All we did was make out, and she’s been following me around ever since.”
“That’s what you get for hooking up at the freshman orientation party,” Frankie says pointedly. “It’s like a rule. Never hook up with someone your first week of college.”
“Well, clearly, I fucked up,” I mutter while petulantly chewing my candy, and they continue to laugh at my expense. Some friends… “Don’t be jealous that I’m out here slingin’ dick,” I tease, and they fake clap.
“Sling that dick my way, Vega.” Zeb winks at me. “I’ll teach you a thing or two.”
I roll my eyes while Micah doubles over.
“Okay, if you two are done flirting,” Frankie sighs, standing up. “We’re gonna be late for band practice.” She grabs Zeb by the arm.
“I’ll walk with you.” I pick up the trash from our lunch. “I’m going that way.”
The three of us look to Micah. “I’d love to join, but I heard Kreston is posting midterm grades today. I need to find out if my parents are going to allow me to come home for the summer, or if I’ll be living in my car until the fall semester starts.”
We all laugh sympathetically, and I pat him on the back. “Good luck!”
Micah walks off in the direction of the science building, while the rest of us head toward Lyons Hall.
Freshman year at Boston College was awesome. The best part was that Frankie got in too, so I came here knowing I’d have at least one friend to keep me from drowning in insecurity. Especially since this place is so far outside of any college I ever thought I’d attend. I mean, it’s a Jesuit school, for Christ’s sake.
I don’t want to sound accusatory, but do they even allow Jews to go here?
Well, apparently, they do, because here I am. I guess it helps that my last name is Vega, not Roth—my mother’s maiden name.
To be fair, I really don’t think it matters much. Especially for me, since religion is literally the last thing I give a flying fuck about. All I knew going into this was that the art program was pretty sweet, and there were opportunities to major in things I could potentially make a career out of, although I don’t know that I necessarily care much about those things either.
Here’s how it went down. I applied to BC as a joke, because my stepbrother, the most annoying, preppy jock on the face of the earth, wouldn’t stop raving about it, and I kind of wanted to see if I could get in, just to throw it in his annoying, preppy jock face. When I did, I really had no intention of actually going here. But then Frankie told me she was going here, and I was like… Okay. Let’s see what this Jesus-loving college on a hill is all about.
So far, it’s been fun. I’m still not great at school, so my grades are average at best. But I’ve been making friends, having a blast with my art classes, and you know… slingin’ dick.
That’s a joke, of course. But based on real events, because I’ve sort of come out of my shell in college—get it? Come.
Not that I’m some slut who hooks up with everyone, but I guess it’s safe to say I’m a bit of a late bloomer with dating and sex and whatnot. The stuff most people I know were doing in high school, I just started doing this year. I go to parties with my friends, and sometimes I make out with girls. Often, we’ll explore the bases after first, and on occasion, we’ll take it all the way home. It’s very casual, which is fine. Safe, consensual… the whole nine.
I’m just figuring myself out. And as I’ve heard my whole life, from adults, movies, TV shows, etc., college is the place to do that. So that’s what I’m doing.
I’m nineteen years old. The way I see it, I have the rest of my life to be serious and figure out what I want to do as a career. For right now, I want to have fun and learn about me.
You have no clue who you really are.
The voice stops me in my tracks, stiffening muscles all over my body.
I can’t fucking believe he’s still in my head. It’s been like two years since he said that to me… And I loathe the fact that the words are still ringing as loudly as they were when he said them.
Speaking of Kyran, I barely ever see him. Yes, we go to the same school, but we’re in completely different programs and we live on opposite sides of campus—Thank God.
I do see him on occasion, but we don’t speak, or even look at each other, for that matter. In fact, we’ve only interacted once since my eighteenth birthday—when we got in that ridiculous fight over me coming here. It makes me laugh now, because we’ve been at the same school for nearly two full semesters and we never have to deal with one another. So clearly, he overreacted a wee bit in assuming me coming to BC would mean we’d be on top of each other twenty-four-seven.
Such a drama queen.
I’ll admit, it kind of sucks. Knowing my first ever opportunity to have a sibling was wasted on someone like Kyran Harbor. I mean, imagine if he was cool? We could be hanging out, having shared experiences, instead of praying we don’t happen to wind up at any of the same parties.
It’s only happened once so far. It was the night before Thanksgiving and the rumor was that a rager was being thrown in one of the dorms off Comm Ave, which is where Kyran lives. I knew it was a likely possibility he’d be there, especially if the party was in his dorm, or one of the neighboring ones. In all honesty, I did consider skipping it just out of sheer self-preservation and not wanting to deal with him talking shit about me all night or starting some kind of fight.
