Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Midnight Confessions."
WE DRIVE in silence for a while, until he turns onto a road I am unfamiliar with. "Where are we going?" I question, my voice in a slight panic.
Landon looks over at me with curious eyes and chuckles at my reaction. "Relax," he starts, "I need to make a pitstop."
"Where?"
"One of our mares is due any day now, so I need to grab some things in case something goes wrong with the delivery."
"Like what?" I ask.
"Mom goes into shock, baby gets stuck, baby is born with defects, etcetera." He explains. "Oh, and I also need to pick up some hay. We have a few bales that got some water and have gone moldy."
"Gotcha." I say. "Wait, are you a vet or something?"
"Actually, that's what I want to be when I leave high school."
"A veterinarian?" I ask aloud. It's shocking to me, he doesn't give me that kind of vibe.
"Yeah," he blows out a puff of air. "I help out a lot around here. People who can't afford a vet call me to help."
"That's sweet." I say.
More minutes of silence.
"Why did you do it?" I suddenly voice my thoughts that have been poking at my brain for days.
"Why did I do what?" He asks, glancing over at me before turning his eyes back to the dark road that's only lit up by the trucks headlights.
"Steal my medication." I say it like it's obvious. He can't lie from me; I know that it's him because he's the only one who has had the slightest possibility of knowing. It was always the nicer twin with me when I was caught or going to take some, and truly, Liam is a cocky, selfish person but I don't peg him for one to snoopâokay, so he seems like a snoop but I can't see him as thief.
When Landon is silent, I look back over at him to see his mouth open, but no words coming out.
I try not to snap at the fact that he may be trying to lie about it. "Don't bother saying you don't know what I'm talking about," I say. "I'm not an idiot. I know you stole them."
"How?" He shoots back. "There's no proof."
"I don't need proof." I snap. "You're the only one who was there and knows that I take something."
"It could haveâ"
"I know it wasn't Liam, Landon." I interrupt. "I'm not sure if you realized, but you're the one who told me that he was the meaner twin."
I see the look of disappointment flash through his eyes. "Stupid genetics." I hear him mutter. "Alright, fine, you caught me. I took them."
"I know," I grin. "So why?"
"You're new to our house," he says. "I just wanted to get a good read on you, you know? Make sure you're not a murderer and stuff like that."
"I'm not." I say with a chortle. I couldn't ever kill someone. I've been present in murders, but I was always the one who called 9-1-1 anonymously that someone was shot. If they couldn't be saved and I knew it, then that was the only time I wouldn't call help. I know I put the gangs lives at risk, but they're not innocent, and most people they eliminated were.
"I know that much," he continues. "But when I caught you that one time taking the pills, then I grew suspicious on if you were a junkie or a drug dealer."
"And?"
"So I needed to figure out what the hell was up," he tells me, "so I stole. Whenever you were out at school or with your friends or. . . Atticus, I would look for those pills. I knew about the safe but I wouldn't open it because I know those things carry deep, dark secrets. I gave you some privacy. But then I checked the secret compartment in your nightstand and I regretted everything. The snooping, the pressing of questions, I regretted it all.
"When I read the prescription, I hated myself. I hated how rude I treated you, how I let my brothers and my family trample you for unconsciously speaking Spanish. I hated how much of a dick I was at school; especially when Annabelle tripped you and I didn't do anything. I figured that everything that Annabelle had said or done to you, or what my family has done, was the reason you took those. It didn't seem like a big deal to us, until I realized it was the biggest deal when you needed medication just to keep you from sinking in the gutter. And then. . . when I found the appetite suppressants, I pretty much lost faith in humanity."
I'm left wordless. All this time, I thought that Landon was just stealing them to mess with me; but I'm wrong. He was doing it to figure me out. He wasn't doing it to be an asshole, just to see how insane I can go without my pills, he was doing it out of genuine curiosity and he felt bad for doing it.
After all he's doneâfamily includedâI'm glad he feels like a dick for being so mean to me when he didn't even know me. He didn't know that I was taking the meds before I came here; for all he knew I could be some very sensitive, weak little girl who needed antidepressants go keep her from trying anything stupid, or that I was an actual druggie who feigned a mental illness so she could continue taking.
I make a decision.
Landon and I are pretty close compared to the other brothers, and I do trust him. Surprisingly, for someone I just met, I trust him a great deal. Enough to the point where I trusted him to pick me up and not bring me to the cops for messing around with a movie theatre.
"I had a great life," I state. "Growing up, even though my parents were always on the move, I had a great life. My mom and I weren't always the closest, but our relationship was a thousand times better than it is now. Whenever we were all home at once, we would have family time. It could be something as little as going grocery shopping, or as big as going away on a trip until one or both had to leave again."
I don't notice that he pulled into a small parking lot off the freeway for resters until I see he's got his full attention on me. He nods understandingly, and shuts the truck off.
"Um, after I graduated elementary school, come summer I was going into ninth grade, everything changed for me. I met a guy, who I was very interested in. He had that innocent and cute formâthe type I was into. He was sweet, kind, and very caring about me. I felt special. However, he wasn't considered 'cool' or 'popular' and I was. He was a nobody, according to stereotypes.
"One time, I was caught by one of the popular groups being with him. He wanted it to be kept a secret for my sake; my reputation. I respected his decision. Well, when they saw him with me, they started teasing him and I stood up for him. I was nice back then and I didn't like bullying. I was friends with everyone, and they listened to me. Well. . . this time was different. Instead of leaving him alone, I was targeted as well. I was no longer cool, and I was booted from the circle. I was hardcore bullied, and as result, I started feeling insecure. I, uh, fell into a depression. Nothing too massive, but it definitely caught me off guard. I was called fat, two-faced, a whore, junkie."
I watch Landon's eyes widen, but his face still remain expressionless. I try my best to figure out if I should continue the story, but he interrupts.
"Is that where the antidepressants came in?" He asks softly and curiously.
I shake my head. "No. It wasn't that severe, and it wasn't chronic. It lasted maybe a few weeks. No, I, uh, I started feeling what everyone was calling me, so I resorted to the only way I knew how to prove everybody wrong."
"The appetite suppressants," he murmurs sadly.
"Yeah, the appetite suppressants," I agree in a small voice, my language changing, and I don't care to fix it. "I just wanted an escape, you know? I didn't like the bad talk. I didn't like everyone making fun of me when at one point they were complimenting me to no end. I wanted to be liked again; so I went to the appetite suppressants to help me not eat so I'd lose weight. I wasn't fat, I wasn't too skinny. I was a healthy muscular and I didn't feel that way anymore. I wanted my life back."
Unexpectedly, Landon wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a tight hug, and surprisingly, it's very comforting. "I'm so sorry, Brooklyn."
I give out a breath through my nose, and wrap my arms around his waist. "It is what it is, right? I mean, I asked for it."
"Doesn't matter," he murmurs, "you stood up for your friend, even if he wasn't apart of the higher social group. You didn't let them be mean."
"It's what ended me up in the position I am, Landon." I whisper, my eyes starting to burn from the water that's being produced behind my closed eyelids. "If. . . if I didn't talk to him, if I didn't stand up to him, then I wouldn't be here. I'd still be at home in Los Angeles with my halfway-functional family and my friends and my good body. I wouldn't. . . have been the places I've been to or have baggage the size of Texas or be taking stupid medication. I'd have my perfect life back."
He rubs circles on my back and hushes me when I start to silently cry. I don't know when I started, or why, but they just came out without warning. I hate having to cry in front of people, and the fact that I'm crying into a hot guy who's comforting me and is also my housemate doesn't help. I always promised myself to never cry because crying symbolizes weakness and sensitivity and weakness makes me crash and get set ablaze. Without crying I don't have that weakness or being sensitive, and I won't have to face the huge burn I get from the flames of my past.
"You're strong, Brooklyn." Landon says, breaking the silence. "Doing the things you've done doesn't make you weak."
"You don't even know what I've done, Landon." I grumble. "You know nothing besides what I just told you. You have no idea how bad I've had it."
"You're right, I don't, but that doesn't mean that whatever it was lead you to a bad place in the present. You're human, you'll make mistakes and you'll regret them."
"I regret the whole ninth grade." I scoff. "I never should have went to that party."
We both pull away, and he starts up the truck again. "I'm sorry, Blue, I really am."
I shrug, a breathy laugh coming out of my nose. "I didn't even know you, Landon, you have nothing to be sorry for."
"I took your pills," he argues, "that's something for me to be sorry about."
I shake my head. "You were worried about the stranger who's living in the same house as you and your family. You just wanted to protect them and see what you were up against. Like I said McGibbon, I understand that."
He chuckles, but stops and gives me a sheepish smile. "That may have been a partial reason," he admits, "but it was more towards of getting to know you better."
My eyes widen a bit, and my breath hitches in my throat. He wanted to get to know me? Me, Brooklyn May, the delinquent? Well, he doesn't know that last part, but still! He wants to know me! And he's hot, so that's an added bonus.
"Youâme? You want to know me?" I stutter in shock. It wasn't often that people wanted to approach me and have me around. Though most people knew what was going on with Taylor, it didn't stop them from being afraid of me or taking me for granted. It was one or the other; I was no longer the nice, sweet girl everyone knew me by.
"Yeah," he shrugs. "I mean, you kinda just showed up on my doorstep and I have yet to figure out why."
"I already told you. It was because my parents were moving to New York." I deadpan.
He shakes his head, "Yes, that's what you told me, but there's got to be a good reason as to why you couldn't stay home."
"I got drunk." I tell him. I may as well tell him why I couldn't stay home. It definitely wasn't because my parents made me get arrested. . .
"You got drunk?" He confirms confusedly, and I nod.
"My mom came home and got mad at me for throwing a beginning-of-school party, even though my dad knew and helped. I was drunk and she smacked me across the face with news that we were moving and I wasn't going with them. So, long story short, I got drunk at my own party, my mom came home and broke the news to me not very nicely, and I ran away. Doing that pretty much cut my chances of me living with my friends, who allowed me residency."
"That's rough," he hums.
I shrug. "You would think so, right?" I question myself.
Maybe I had this wrong all along. Maybe I wasn't mad about the fact that they were shipping me off; that I was actually mad that they actually, finally, did it. I knew LA wasn't the best place for me to live given my history, but it always felt like home. I wanted to blame everything on Mexico, because it's a. . . violent and crime-filled country. I wanted to blame Mexico on Taylor, on myself, on my mom, on prison and Stacey and all my other ex-friends. It seemed that everything I got involved in in Los Angeles was something that was a hundred times worse in the country down south.
"What do you mean?" He questions quizzically.
I shrug. "I don't know, I mean, I was pretty pissed off when I had to move, but I was over it as soon as Iâ" I stop myself. We're not close enough for me to reveal that yet. Maybe when he confesses why his family and Atticus are so conflicted together, but even then, that seems to be pushing the limit. "âleft Pasadena." I correct. "Like three days into living in your house, I was over moving, but. . . honestly, I wanted out again. I couldn't take the discrimination from your family; it was too much. I was walking into your house with fresh wounds and you guys were poking at them with steel metal rods on fire. I couldn't take it."
"I'm sorry," he says for the gazillionth time. "We shouldn't have come to conclusions, and we shouldn't have voted against you only being allowed to speak English in the houseâespecially when you've spoken more Spanish your whole life than any other."
I shrug. "As said, you didn't know. I don't hold grudges often, and I don't have one against you."
We're in a comfortable silence until Landon pulls into a long driveway, much like his own, and puts the car in park. "I'll be a few minutes." He tells me, and gets out of the truck after I nod.
Five minutes pass with no Landon, and my phone starts to ring.
Wait, what?
I look down, and sure enough, I see that my phone is plugged into the car charger on the dash. When did this happen? I silently thank Landon for being so generous even though I have no idea when he did that.
Forgetting what's happened with my thoughts, I quickly snatch my phone and press answer before the other person can hang up.
"Go for Brooklyn," I say into the phone.
"May! Oh thank God you answered, I've been calling you for the past hour!" Atticus exclaims on the other line, and I furrow my brows and pull my phone away from my ear, and see it's only at 2%. Wonderful.
"Oh. . ." I trail. "Hi."
He laughs, and suddenly stops. "Carly rushed us all out of the building before I could even think. I tried going back for you but the place was deserted and you were nowhere to be found. I looked for a good ten minutes and you weren't picking your phone up or anything! I figured you might've gotten caught. Oh my God, I'm so sorryâ"
I smile at his weirdness and rambling, and start laughing, cutting his rant off. "Seriously, Atticus, don't worry, I'm okay. The security guy chased me for a good twenty minutes, but I got around him."
"Where are you right now? I'm coming to get you. The streets aren't good at night and it scares me knowing you're out there alone."
I shake my head even though he can't see me. "No, it's okay, really. I'm safe."
It's this moment that Landon comes back into the truck, a whole bunch of miscellaneous items in his arms. He raises his eyebrows confusedly once he sees I'm on the phone. 'Who is it?' He mouths to me.
'Atticus.' I say, biting my lip nervously. I watch him clench his jaw and a deep scowl go on his face. He looks mad, but he doesn't say anything as he starts the vehicle and I turn my attention back to Atticus.
"That's not answering my question, Sweetheart." He says sternly. "Where are you? I'm freaking out, here."
"I'm on my way back to my place. I'm okay, Atticus, a. . . friend picked me up." I assure him, hesitating on the 'friend' part. I don't think he knows that I live with Landon, but I don't know. He gets picked up before us, but every time I board the bus he doesn't pay attention when we get on. And he's never mentioned it to me.
"A friend?" He questions in surprise. "Which friend? Because Nathan and everyone is here, it's just you who disappeared." He points out, and I groan.
I should have suspected that. Damn it!
"Um. . ." I stutter. "It's, uh, the woman I live with, she um. . . has kids and one of them picked me up, and. . . yeah, mhm, that's what happened."
I glance at Landon worriedly, and see a smirk on his face at my difficulty. I soon notice that it looks like he's choking when his face starts to turn red, and I start to panic.
Except when he can't contain himself anymore and bursts out in hysterical laughter, and all the redness fades as his laughs chorus out throughout the car.
His laugh is impeccably contagious and I find myself chuckling along with him.
"Brooklyn?" I hear, and remember that I'm on the phone.
"I'm sorry," I squeak into the line. "I'll see you tomorrow at tutoring! Bye!" I say, and hang up the phone before he can reply.
"What was that about?" Landon asks once we have calmed down from our laughing high.
"They were worried," I explain. "It's handled."
"You could've just told him you were with me," he says, a microscopic frown on his face.
Is Landon McGibbon. . . disappointed?
That I didn't tell Atticus I was with him?
"No, not really," I speak up louder. "We're on totally different social spectrums, Landon. Remember my story with the guy I met? I don't want that happening to you."
"You're not a loser, Brooklyn," he sighs. "Seriously. I don't care what anyone has to say about me; they're probably just rumours."
"Yeah, butâ"
"You've heard rumours about me and my brothers, haven't you?" He interrupts. He has a look on his face that explains that he knows I have and is just waiting for me to admit it.
I nod in defeat. "Yeah," I mutter.
"Based on what you know, how many of those do you think are true?" He presses.
"Um. . ." I hesitate.
"Come on, Blue, I can take a punch." He jokes.
"A few?" I say in unease, my voice becoming very high pitched and unstable.
"Which are. . ." He trails after I don't continue.
"Um. . . t-that you guys are hot and nerds and skip class?"
"That's true," he smirks. "Come on, feed me more. This is delicious."
My eyes widen. "That's all I heard that I know is true. . ."
"Okay, okay, accepted," he shrugs, a small smile on his face. "What about the ones you don't know if are rumours?"
I gulp. "Can I pass?"
"No."
I sigh heavily. Please don't cause drama at school tomorrow. "Um, that your nickname at school ran outside before it went in?"
He stiffens up. "Accepted. Continue."
"Youâyou guys are involved in gangs and are drug dealers and have been to jail a bunch of times. I also heard that you guys may have killed someone?"
"Unaccepted." He stops me. "We haven't killed anyone. None of us."
I shrug nervously.
"Wait," he pauses, the colour in his face vanishing. It may be dark, but it's not hard to notice. "You don't think those are rumours?"
Shit.
"IâIâI never said that," I stammer. "I justâI don'tâI don't know you all well enough to answer that question myself. I'm going off of rumours, and it's not like we're attached to the hip so I can see for myself."
"You can hangout with us at school, Brooklyn, it's okay."
I shake my head. "Nope. You sit at the table next to Annabelle and Mary, I'm avoiding them at all costs."
He frowns. "Sorry I didn't stand up for you that time, too. I can't apologize for my brothers, but I can for myself."
"Stop apologizing, please. It's making me nauseated."
"Fine, fine." He gives in. "So," he announces after a long comfortable silence, "how about I teach you how to milk a cow tomorrow?"
"Mâmilk a cow?" I ask in unease.
"Yes, milk a cow," he laughs.
"You mean. . . you expect me to touch a cows boobs and fondle them until her boobs come?"
He chokes on air or his own spit or something, since how he's having a severe coughing fit. I look at him in a slight panic, but he composes himself seconds later. "I'm sorry, you just made that sound completely sexual when it'sâ"
"Totally sexual?" I suggest with a quirked brow. I know it's true, he knows it's true, I just so happened to say it bluntly and the most weird way.
"Yâyeah, I suppose it is," he says defeatedly, "but, they're not boobs. They're udders."
"Does it have a nipple?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Then it's a boob." I say blankly. "But, sure, why not?"
Tomorrow's not so bad. I have tutoring with Atticus, therapy, and I'm groping a cow's boob to get edible liquid out of it.
Oh crap.
"I can't tomorrow," I say to myself.
"What do you mean?" Landon asks, and I snap my head up to him.
"I. . . I'm really busy tomorrow." I say sadly. Honestly, as sexual as it sounds, I was looking forward to milking a cow.
"Really?"
"I have tutoring with Atticus, and I have therapy."
"Therapy?"
Oh please boy, I take antidepressants for crying out loud, therapy is usually associated with that diagnosis.
I nod. "Yeah. It's kinda associated with my meds. . ."
"Do they know about the appetite suppressants?" He asks.
I shake my head. "Nope, tomorrow's my first therapist since LA. So, that being said, you're not going to say anything. Capeesh?"
"Of course." He nods.
"Wonderful!" I exclaim, clapping my hands together. "Now, how far away are those God damn hay bales?"