Chapter Twelve: "Well, That Escalated Quickly."
TO SAY THAT I was upset would be an understatement.
The doctor came back after I got my x-rays done, and said that when I fell, my bone cracked. It didn't fully break again, which I was happy about, but it did crack. So, now on top of the remaining six weeks I was required initially to keep the cast on, instead of having it on for four more weeks, guess what?
I'm back to square one again.
That's right; six more weeks to go.
I handled myself appropriately. . . and if you classify crying again out of sadness and anger as appropriate, then I was so appropriate, I'd push formal business men out of first place.
The car ride back to the cottage was silent. Not exactly a comfort silence, but not an awkward one either. I just didn't speak; I had Lucille's words burning in my brain that I was just not there. Landon tried engaging in conversation, but gave up after I gave him short answers or stiff nods or shakes of my head.
Why did she say that Landon wouldn't be interested in me?
Not that I care in the least bit, but the fact that a nurse on shift would say that to a patientâlet alone someone she just metâconfused me. Did she always speak to patients in such a tone, or was it only directed to me because of Landon being involved? I didn't even want Landon to be involved in the first place; he just so happened to be the one that got up to see what the hell was going on.
But going back onto topic, I don't see why Landon would have a thing for me, anyway. I already know I'm way out of his league, and he's too hot to be in mine, so we naturally should collide. But why is he being so nice? Is it because I'm new to their house? If it was because I'm new, though, then wouldn't he be acting like his siblings, or wouldn't his siblings be acting like he was: nice and polite? I mean, there's the innuendos he makes all the time and the pick up lines, but that's just a typical teenage boy being a typical horny teenage boy. Lacey got them a lot when she and Casey were on breaks, and Justin and Johnny would flirt with us three girls all the time.
I guess everyone has their own way of introductions and their own personality on how they deal with new people, but if I'm going to have problems with them, then I'd definitely want to know right then and there if they don't like me or not. If they don't, then I know enough to avoid engaging in conversation with them, but if they don't, then that's just another person who can be at least a semi-friend until I can make new ones.
I doubt that would happen though.
Given the stance and the looks of the brothers that I have so far met, it's guaranteed that they're all involved or revolved around the bigger, popular, and better groups in school, and if that's the case, then I'll be getting ignored. I definitely don't fit in their social spectrum, and I'd probably be bait if anyone even caught me talking, looking, or even breathing in the same air as the boys.
Still feeling very guilty, I decide to apologize to Landon again; since it's the only thing my head knows how to actually do at the moment.
"I already told you to not worry about it." He simply shrugs back.
"But we wouldn't be in this in the first place if it wasn't for me." I argue.
"Brooklyn, seriously, shut up."
Okay, who shit in his cornflakes?
I take that as my warning cue, and immediately keep my words to myself, and push my lips together, zipping them up and throwing the magical key away.
"What the hell were you doing up, anyway?" He suddenly voices as we pull into his drive-in. By now, it's nearly four in the morning, and you can hear the crickets in the forest starting to chirp.
"You told me to shut up." I tell him once he gives me an expectant look.
"Just answer the question."
"I couldn't sleep," I mutter back, looking out the window. The truck stops and I hop out, limping my way to the door. I haven't bothered to check my hip, since I refused to let them see if anything was wrong with it, but if I could still walk, I took it as a sign that I'd live without any problems. The only thing I probably am facing, is a massive bruise the size of Texas.
I don't wait up for Landon, since he seems pissed off as it is. I open the door, leaving it open for him, and make my way back upstairs, this time being careful to not slip.
Note to self: buy socks with grips at the bottom.
"Brooklyn waitâ"
"Go to bed, Landon." I grumble, "I kept you up long enough."
"My bed would love it ifâ"
"I don't want to hear it."
I'm thanking the stars that the doctor prescribed pain medication, even though I already have a prescription. They gave me a dose of something else, but I don't even know what to do with half the shit I have to take anymore since I don't know what I can take with what.
I have like four different types of medicine I take, and it'll only be soon that I overdose from combining the wrong substances together.
I have issues, okay?
I stumble up the stairs, being as quiet as I can, and close my door behind me once I reach it. Finally up, I sigh, and take an extra dose of sleeping pills that failed to work last night. I already am at the maximum dosage for the day, so tonight I can't use them. Sadly.
I frown once I check my phone, hoping to see a message from Justin, but then a thought pops in my mind and I growl. They're in a different time zone than I am. I quickly scroll through my clock, and find LA. I add it to my board of world clocks so I can keep track of the time differences, and I groan once I see that it's 1:00 a.m, and we're a three hour time differenceâus being ahead of them.
Well, this is going to have to get planned to work out well.
I move the cardigan I thrown on a couple hours ago to hold in my arm, and pull my shorts down further to see how bad my hip is. I walk to the full-body length mirror, and stare at myself as I gently move the fabric.
It's big, to say the least. It's pretty much covers my whole thigh, stopping just below half-way of my femur. To be approximate, it's just a tad bit bigger than a cantaloupe. It's coloured in all different shades of purple, black, and blue. Man, I am just covered in bruises. First my eye and arm, and now this.
I have such bad luck.
Or, maybe it's because I am a huge klutz.
Well, the first two weren't my fault, but pretty much nearly re-breaking my arm and bruising almost half of my right leg is definitely because of my clumsiness.
Do they do classes for that?
I sigh, pulling my pants back up and putting my cardigan over my body properly again. I fall back onto my uncomfortable bed, one in which I actually need to move to the couch because it's a lot comfier, and lay facing up, staring at the ceiling.
I still can't get out of my mind that that Lucille girl would even assume that I'm nobody's taste. It's like she thinks I'm automatically considered to others of not being of interest because I'm not skinny enough or pretty enough, when in reality, I'm as skinny as you can get healthily. Any skinnier and I'd be of an unhealthy weight and that'd drive me crazy. Being 150lbs was as worse as it is considered I was overweight, and now I can't go under 110 without being at a dangerously low-health level for my build and age.
Besides, what if he was interested? It's none of her damn business. A relationshipâa healthy and faithful one I must addâconsists of two people and two people only.
Not two lovers and one of the lovers' damned fucking piece of side meat from the past.
***
I wake up, my back kind of hurting since I managed to fall asleep on the bed somehow. I check my phone to see that it's only six, and I groan considering that my sleeping pills aren't doing fuck all for my sleeping. If anything, they're actually making my insomnia worse.
I attempt to put on skinny jeans, but they're off just as quick as they're put on once it starts to hurt my thigh. I gulp at my only other option.
Sweatpants.
Don't get me wrong; I love sweatpants just as much as the next lazy girl, but I'm still iffy about my image and sweatpants are a good way to prove fat exists.
I throw them on carefully, and click my tongue at my appearance but go downstairs anyway.
I'm met with the smell of pancakes as I trudge down the stairs, and I see a bunch of boys sitting around the dining room table. I notice the twins first, since they're actually sitting beside each other, and I see Louis sitting across from where I sat last night. Ella is working up a smoking storm in the kitchen, and there's an older man sat where I was seated for dinner.
It's like I was a loud breather or something, because I don't even blink twice when all attention is drawn to me. Again.
I hug my arms around my body uneasily, but Ella seems unfazed by the thickness and tension in the air.
"Ah, Brooklyn!" She exclaims, leaving the pancake on the burner. She engulfs me in a brief hug before pulling away and is at the stove again. "How are you this morning? I apologize for my boys last night. They usually aren't like this."
"You're funny, Ma," one of them laughs. He's older, looks like the eldest to me. His brown hair is bed-head styled, but it looks like a rats nest. A hot rats nest. He's wearing a tight grey t-shirt that visibly shows that he is well-structured in body tone. His arms flex with each bite of his pancakes, and his jaw is so sharp, I could cut meat with it. He's just as attractive as Landon; maybe even more.
God, this family has good genes.
"Watch your mouth, Lance." Ella warns.
"Um. . ." I start, trying to find words to form. Do I tell her about this morning? That I managed to fall down their stairs and nearly kill my arm again? Or do I say that everything is fine and dandy and that I had the best sleep I've ever had in months? This, in reality, would probably be equivalent to sleeping on that steel mattress back at the prison. I actually think that mattress was more comfy than the bed upstairs. "I'm doing alright, Ella, thank you."
She gives me a stretched grin, and points to a chair. It's between a little boy and Louis, and across from either Landon or Liam. I give her a tight smile and limp towards the open seat.
"Whoa! What happened to your arm?!" The littlest boy to my left asks me once I sit, and rest my arms on my lap. I look over at him curiously, and see that he is just absolutely adorable. With big hazel eyes and fluffy golden brown hair, it's easy to pinpoint that this little dude will break hearts.
"I broke it," I answer to him with a small smile.
"How?" He presses further, and I feel my heart stop beating for a couple seconds. Flashbacks of that night itch at my brain and make my stomach do a whole bunch of summersaults out of fear.
"I. . ." I say shakily, trying to swallow the huge lump forming in my throat, making me unable to gather a sentence out without wincing at the memory. "I got into a fight."
He looks up at me, with pure sadness and genuine curiosity, and asks, "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
At that, my hip started to throb. I bite my tongue to prevent me from letting out a very disturbing groan. "I'll be fine, don't worry kiddo."
"Your face. . . is that from the fight too?" He asks, his bottom lip jutting out, like he is on the urge of tears.
This boy, is honestly now my official favourite brother. Yeah, Landon is nice and all, but this kid totally outranks him. It makes me feel old for wanting to literally squeeze his cheeks because he's so cute. Now I know why elderly are always so tempted to do it. It really is a bad gesture to fight against.
"It is," I reply. "Don't give me those eyes, though. I'll be okay."
He gives me a smile as he nods his head and continues eating. I look up and see the boy in front of me staring intently; like he's trying to figure me out. I meet his gaze and last night reminds me that there's only one thing that separates Liam from Landon: the eyes.
So when I meet yet another pair of hazel eyes, I come to terms that Liam is trying to dig through me to see what secrets I have hidden. His face is set with determination, and a little bit of mischief. He's wearing a blue and black plaid shirt, and his hair is styled like Lance's, I think, with bed head hair. All in all, he looks pretty drool-worthy right now.
Once I break contact, I catch him smirking.
Ella sets a pancake in front of me, and for once, I am genuinely hungry. She sits down at the end of the table, between Landon and the cute little boy beside me whose name still remains unknown. I quietly pour syrup over my pancake and take small pieces at a time. A long silence falls as everyone eats, until finally, the older man at the table breaks it.
"So," he starts, "Are you one of my son's one-night stands?"
I turn my head towards him, placing my fork against my plate. My eyes bulge open wide, and the piece of pancake in my mouth gets caught in my throat and I immediately start choking on it.
"Thomas!" Ella snaps dangerously.
Me? Being one of his son's one-time flings? Yeah, that will never happen. They're too egotistical for their own good and if I knew any better, I wouldn't be staring at one of them dangerously right now. I visibly watch Liam and Landon shrink under my gaze.
I swallow the piece in my mouth once I get my shit together, and shake my head very sharply. "I am not."
"Oh, okay then, good for you." He says with a stiff nod and shrug of his shoulders. "Now that only leaves one window open. My wife barely told me that we had a guest coming over. Now, I'm sorry we couldn't meet last night for dinner. I had something come up that needed my attention." He explains, and although it sounds apologetic, he doesn't express it on his features. It looks like he could most definitely care less, but I've always been one to judge a book by its cover. Not in a bad way, but after I get past the first impressions thing, then I decide if I was right to judge them correctly.
It helps me, somehow. With studying people.
Though for all I know, this man could be just like my father, and I had no right just to automatically assume that this man who I've only seen for two minutes, is an emotionless person who only revolves around his work schedule.
But that is the exact vibe I'm getting from him.
"Don't worry about it, sir." I assure him. "I'm sure one night won't matter." I add unconsciously, "After all, I am here until I graduate. Can't do much about it."
The table suddenly falls silent, and I get the feeling that I wasn't supposed to voice that thought. Since Landon didn't even know of my moving in, I would hope that Mr. Whatever-his-last-name-is, would at least know.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" He asks, confusion and aggravation flooding his face. Oh shit.
"I said don't worry about it?" I voice again.
"No, after that."
"One night won't matter?" I ask, confused now.
"No, after that." He repeats.
What is he talking about? That's all I said. I said that, and that I'd be here until graduation. How can he not understand that?
Oh.
OH.
Well, shit.
"Oh, I apologize, sir. I wasn't thinking." I say, my cheeks heating up. I guess I'm going to have to tell them eventually that more times than not, I speak Spanish without even thinking.
"What was that, Gibberish?" I didn't see Mr. Whatever-his-last-name-is's lips move, so I automatically know someone else spoke. I look around, seeing unmoving lips everywhere, but Louis was looking at me with confusion. It must have been him, considering he's looking at me like I'm some alien.
"No." I say, but his eyebrows raise again.
"You sure about that, immigrant? I'm pretty sure that wasn't English that came out of your mouth." He snorts, and I frown. It's official: Louis, is a fucking nutcase.
"Louis!" Ella and Mr. Whatever-his-last-name-is both snap at the same time.
"Brooklyn, is that it?" I turn and see, ugh, what's his name? Lance? I think so. I nod my head in confirmation. "Brooklyn, I apologize for my idiot brother. The only language he speaks is idiocy."
I sneak in a smile at him somewhat sticking up for me, and he just smirks. "Um," I finally say out loud, "I guess my parents haven't said much to your family, I take it?"
The amount of confused looks on everyone's faces except Ella's and Landon's when I announced that there'd be more than one occasion that I'd be here, kind of answered that question for me.
"What is she talking about, Ella?" The older man asks, propping his elbows up on the table, then placing his chin in his hands expectantly.
I watch Ella fiddle with her fingers; something she probably does when she's nervous. "I'm sorry I haven't said anything, Thomas, but it was a last minute thing, and I guess I forgot to tell you. This was a couple months ago and it always slipped my mind."
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
My parents have been planning on shipping me away here for more than a month? They just managed to slip me out of LAâout of my homeâovernight without even bothering to hear my opinion on the matter? Hell, I was mad at them for shipping me here overnight in the first place, let alone purposely let me spend the night in a jail cell for running away drunk. Now, now I am as pissed as ever.
They had no right to do that to me. I get that Mom had an offer that could have potentially changed her financial career forever, but I didn't have to leave, too! Not to mention that I'm not even moving with them, they moved me into a country that they aren't in. They don't even know any province besides British Columbia because that's where she often travelled to if it were business in Canada. They couldn't even name the capital of the country.
Why would they send their only daughter to a country they didn't know anything about? Why couldn't they just let me live with Justin or Lacey; where I was accepted to move in and didn't have to transfer?
I get it somewhat; I'm across the country, thousands of kilometers away from them in New York. But shipping me to Canada where I don't even know the people taking me in, is a little low. Now, I did my researchâa.k.a. Google Mapsâand seen that, yeah, I'm closer to them here in some rural area named after weather, but I knew hundreds of people in Los Angeles compared to Ontario, where I knew nobody.
This is just proving how disconnected me and my mother are.
My father is no better, now.
"It slipped your mind?" Thomas repeats her words.
"Yes, it did. I promise! But Thomas, Loretta had no other place to leave Brooklyn. It's not like she could have stayed home by herself." Ella argues, and that's what catches my attention.
Ella knows why I can't be alone?
"She told you?" I ask in anger, "My mother told you why I can't be let alone?"
Ella looks over at me questionably, and gives me a pointed look. "Brooklyn, dear, I understand that you might be upset, but please speak where I can understand you as well."
"Eugh! That disrespectful, untrusting, careless witch!"
I glance around the table, and see Landon frown.
"Okay, this is going to become an issue," Louis pinpoints, "We need rules. All in favour of this being an English-speaking household only, say 'I'!" And with that, Louis immediately shoots his hand up sky high in the air with confidence.
After that, I see other hands raise, and my blood boils when I see Ella and Thomas raise their hands as well.
You have got to be kidding me.
They can't tell me that I can only speak English in this house. Ninety percent of the time I don't even realize that I'm not speaking it! To me, it's English in my mind. They can't just tell me that I can't speak my first language in their house. It's like me telling them that if they were to come to my house back in California, that they could only speak Spanish. I know that they know absolutely nothing about it since nobody understood anything I just said, but it's not like I don't struggle with the language, either.
I'm fluent in English, now, but there are times when I am just lost as ever. I've only mastered the basics; I get confused sometimes when they use two of the same words beside each other. Like that that, or is is. Like, in Mexico it wasn't that difficult.
I'm not as angry as before when I see that only half of their family's hands are up in the air. The only people that are against it, are Landon, Liam, and the little boy beside me. Landon is snickering with a smirk, Liam is winking and smirking flirtatiously, and the little boy has a huge grin on his face.
"You can't just do that!" I exclaim, but catch myself in the act. "You can't just do that to me!" I repeat, but this time making sure it was in their understanding. "You can't just tell me I can't speak my native language. That's exactly like me telling you and your family that you can't speak English, only Spanish, in our house."
"This is our house, newbie. Our rules." Louis points out.
"You're lucky your parents are here otherwise I would strangle you till your last breath." I snap in a low voice, whispering it in his ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Landon start snickering once again.
Idiot.
This is a great advantage for me; I can curse and do whatever I please because, in the end, they have no idea what the fuck I'm saying anyway.
"Mom!" Louis whines, "She threatened to chop my arm off!"
"What?" I squeak, "I did not!"
"She's lying, mom."
"What are you talking about, child? You don't even know anything in Spanish." I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.
If they're doing this, we're going to have huge problems. I'll get a job and live in a basement if I have to. Or, I'll save up, and move back to LA to live with Justin or Lacey; where I can freely speak in whatever language I please.
"I want to learn Spanish!" The little boy interrupts, grabbing hold of my arm and giving it a tug. "All Dora does is repeat the same things! I don't care if she's made out of soy sauce!"
"What?" I laugh.
"She always goes, 'Hola, soy Dora.' I don't know why she says she's made out of soy sauce when she doesn't look like soy sauce!"
I tilt my head back in a laugh, and ruffle the boy's hair. "She's just telling you her name, buddy. She's not calling herself soy sauce. That's just how we say hello. That's like you saying 'hi, my name is. . . so and so' but in English, of course."
"My name is Lucas!" He chirps happily, and when I see his smile, I swear my nerves calm down more.
"Well then, hello Lucas. My name is Brooklyn."
"I have no idea what you said but I heard soy in there." He states honestly, and grins up at me innocently.
"Well then I'll just have to teach you." I say with a small smile. I turn my head to see Thomas with a permanent scowl on his face, Ella looking at him with pleading eyes, and everyone else looking at me, checking me out, but for some still off reason, their hands are still raised.
"Landon, Lucas, Liam!" Louis snaps, "Put your hands up!"
"Why would I do that?" Landon chuckles. "I'm learning it."
Whoa, whoa, whoa, Landon is learning my language?! Oh, God, did he understand what I said? Shit, did he hear what I threatened to Louis?
Well I guess that would make sense on why he was laughing. . .
"Liam! You're the complete opposite of him, why are in favour of. . . her?"
"Because, man. Chick is hot." Liam shrugs, and when I look at him, he smirks, "The language is just a bonus."
I flush red, but cover it as best I can.
Boys, I think to myself with an eye roll.
"Lucas, we're friends!" Louis says.
"Can you teach me that?" Lucas asks his brother.
"Well, no, but we canâ" Louis starts, but Lucas intrudes.
"Then my hand stays down!"
The table falls silent again, and I can't help but think it's my fault. Clearly I caused some heavy tension between Ella and her husband, and the boys must be confused too. Landon gives me a sympathetic look, but I shrug it off. I don't understand how things could have gone from good, to bad.
This is going to be the longest two years of my life.