Chapter Thirty-Nine: "Reconciliation?"
"GOT EVERYTHING?"
"I never had anything in the first place." I chuckle at my dad, who is checking everywhere for something I may have forgotten. The only thing I had here was a spare change of clothes Landon brought me, and my phone and charger.
For some reason, my being in the hospital seemed to gain a lot of publicity for me, since people I don't even know have messaged me hoping I recover good and that nothing bad happened. Friday, when I woke up from my surgery, is when I seen the posts. I just assumed someone here recognized me and told their friends and whatnot. I also assume that's how Atticus found out, or Carly just told him. So, with everyone wondering if I'm dead or deathly-ill, I took a selfie of my pale, ugly self in a hospital gown, and posted publicly, "I'm not dead, yet, guys. Thanks for the 'Get Better'sâ¤ï¸!"
After that, I got a lot of friend requests from people at school.
Whoever knew that almost dying from appendicitis could make me well-known?
Certainly not me.
Now, I'm kinda worried to go back to school. I've been popular before, but I already started stuff with Annabelle and Mary and becoming apart of the same crowd as them, definitely scares me.
"Yes, dad, I do." I chuckle.
Dad snatches my bag out of my hand, and I roll my eyes at how he's taking everything the doctor said so seriously. Like, lifting things that are too heavy or that can loosen my stitches. Needless to say, dad's given me the 'no sex!' conversation three times now, and refuses to let me carry my small bag that literally has my sports bra and shorts from when I came in them a few days ago. I'd hate to see him actually carry my bag and books to my locker and classes.
"I can carry my own things, dad." I tell him.
"Not for the next week you aren't." He says.
"Dad," I say, "I'll have to carry my books to classes, and home again. That bag is a feather compared to those."
"Which is exactly why I brought you a wheelie backpack!" He exclaims.
"I'm not using a wheelie backpack." I say sternly.
"Then I'll have one of the boys do it." He shrugs.
"Um, I most certainly am not!" Louis interferes. Everyone is here to say goodbye, but they've all stayed silent while dad and I fight over my bags.
"Ah, Louis!" He grins. "Thank you for the offer!"
"What?" Louis squeaks. "No way! Sorry Mr. May, but I'm not carrying her stuff. She has two functioning arms."
"And a scar that can reopen if she stresses it!" Dad says. "That's more important. Thanks for the offer, Louis!"
"Ugh!" Louis growls. "Mom!"
"You started it, baby." Ella says nonchalantly. "Had you not said anything, you'd probably be free. You asked for it."
"I most certainly did not." He snaps. "Dad! Do something!"
"Son, you know when they say to never look your teacher in the eye once they ask for volunteers?"
"Yes."
"This is like that." He chuckles. "You snooze you lose."
"You're real mature." Louis grumbles.
"You're a real idiot." Liam says from behind.
"Liam." Ella warns.
"Sorry not sorry, mom." Liam shrugs with a smirk.
"This is so not fair!" Louis exclaims. "How come Landon and Lance or Liam don't have to do it?"
"Because we'll be driving her, you idiot." Landon says.
"But that means I'll be getting to classes late."
"Tough luck." Landon smiles.
"Out of all my brothers, you're my least favourite." Louis states.
Landon just shrugs. "You never were mine so it's all good." He grins.
"Enough, boys." Their mother sighs, then turns to me. "Will you be alright?"
I give her a smile. "Yeah, it's just a week. I'm sure mom, dad and I can get by."
"Well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate." She replies, and I nod, hugging her briefly.
Mom stayed back to make dinner, so Thomas, dad, and Ella start walking out, all six of us in tow. Landon steps in foot beside me, and Lucas grabs my hand. "If you ever have any problems with your folks, you can call me and I'll come get you if you don't want to stay." Landon whispers, and I nudge my shoulder with his softly, nodding.
"Thanks."
"Do you really have to go?" Lucas asks below me, and I see a cute frown etched on his face. He genuinely looks sad to see me leave. Does he not know that this isn't forever?
"It's only for a week, dude." I chuckle. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Okay." He says sadly. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you, too, Lucas." I smile.
We all get downstairs, and out to the parking lot to where dad and Ella are talking with Thomas. Their conversation seems to be serious, but they turn in higher spirits when they see us approach.
"Are you boys ready?" Thomas questions. They all nod, and get into the truck they have, except Liam and Landon came together in another vehicle, and Lance came from work.
Louis and Lucas disappear, and the three boys and my dad, Ella and Thomas and I are left.
"I'll pick you up around ten to eight Monday morning, but I'll let you know for sure tomorrow night. Is that alright?" Liam questions.
"Yeah, that's okay." I agree.
"If you're not feeling any better in the morning then just text me." He says, and I nod, and watch him walk away.
"I'll see you in Chem, Blue." Landon winks, and I laugh at my dad's reaction. Clearly he doesn't know that I have nicknames here as well. Lance bids us farewell, and soon enough, we're all piled in our separate cars and leaving.
***
"You need to eat."
"But I'm not hungry."
"I don't care, Brooklyn. You need to eat. Whether that's five bites or fifty, I don't care, but you need to have something."
"I don't have an appetite, though."
"Then give me the suppressants for the rest of the week and we'll see how hungry you are, then."
"Loretta." Dad says in a warning tone.
"Aaron," mom growls, "she needs to eat something."
He sighs and then turns to me. "Just a few bites, then if you don't want to finish, you don't have to. But you need to take at least three until you get the green light."
I groan. "Fine."
It seems as though my old habits of not eating have come back. I've been eating half of meals and that's a vast improvement compared to the quarter I would eat in jail. Now, it feels like I haven't done all that because with my parents sudden arrival, it's like I've already eaten enough to be non-hungry for centuries.
"Why do you always have to be so stubborn and difficult with me?" Mom mutters in defeat. I don't even know the answer to that; I just blame it on our relationship.
Truth be told, I'll probably eat more when she leaves tomorrow.
"Beats me." I shrug.
I do as I was told and take a total of six bites. Surprisingly, it took up most of the plate, but secretly I think dad purposely gave me a small plate to make it seem like I've eaten a lot, when that isn't the case.
Mom and dad know about the medication I've been taking. Dad is the one who made me go to therapy and that's when I was prescribed my antidepressants, but mom is the one who found the appetite suppressantsâwhich were absolutely not meant to be found by them.
Apparently I stole a pair of her underwear. I don't see that statement as being anywhere close to being true since I am a size 5 in pants and she's a size thirteen. And obviously that means she's bigger in the hips than I am, which also means that if I were to even try on her underwear, they'd fall to my ankles.
My mom is actually really skinny, minus her pant size. She just has very, very large hips, which she blames on me because apparently I 'stole' her forever summer body. But truly, she could have avoided this all if she didn't choose to get frisky with my father.
Eugh, that sounds so disgusting. Get rid of the thought, get rid of the thought!
So when she was scanning my room, she pulled open a drawer that my underwear most certainly wouldn't be in, and came across the bottle. She was furious and screamed at me for days about how I'm damaging my body by not eating and gave me a full lesson on what starving yourself is like.
I think she thought I was literally starving myself. But, I wasn't. I would still eat, just in tiny portions. I would just take the pills if I was stressed or upset, because previously I had a bad problem with binge eating whenever I was stressed or sad. So instead of gaining all this weight from eating a lot of food in short time, I'd take the pills to prevent me from doing that.
Sometimes it had bad effects, because there would be days where I was so stressed and the bullying would keep continuing that I'd take them and sometimes not eat anythingâeven a crackerâfor days. But whenever there wasn't any stress or sadness, or that I was still being bullied but tuned everyone out, those bottles would be in a safe. I would eat properly, like a teenager my age would do.
When I went to jail the first time, since I knew I was going to be in there a while, I had a source to the outside bring me them. I couldn't eat at all hours unless I bought them with the money I earned, so whenever I was low on cash and hungry, I'd have my acquaintance sneak them in so I could take them without being prescribed to. I still had to have my dose of antidepressants from the people who worked at the prison, but that was all.
I was pretty functional when my head was screwed on tight and straight.
"Why do you do this to yourself?"
I blink away my thoughts and look up to see my mom staring at me expectantly.
She already knows the answer. Why is she asking again?
"I thought this conversation was cleared up." I say in a mutter. She just does not understand what I went through. She actually never truly knew what our. . . gang did. She just knew I was involved with them with my boyfriend, and that they were a big and scary deal in town. She never knew what I went through at school or anything; she suspected that who I was was because of Taylor. She blamed him for everything. He was a great guy, and my parents loved him, but she still blamed him.
I don't.
I blame him for getting me involved with Riverton, but that's it. I don't blame him for who I am, because I am who I am because of him but not in the way my mother thinks. She thinks he ruined my life by getting me involved with criminals and drugs and depression, when in actuality, he ruined my life by showing me Riverton. He showed me strength, and that words didn't matter as long as I loved myself.
"I just don't understand why you want to live like this." She says.
"Live like what exactly, mom?" My tone was clipped.
"Gangs, drugs, gunsâ"
"I never used a gun in my life, mom." I interrupt. "And we aren't a gang. We were a club."
"A club full of criminals." She says in annoyance. "And by definition, a gang is a group of criminals."
"Not all of them were criminals!" I exclaim. "Some were normal people just trying to get by!"
"By what? Robbing banks, performing drug deals? Selling off members to pimps and pedophiles?"
"We never sold anyone to pimps. People did what they asked to get money to live, mom. Not to cause trouble."
"Well that was the exact opposite you did." Mom snaps.
Eugh, really? Here's a chance to reconcile and she's bringing up my past again?
So much for making up today.
"I didn't do anything to get me in trouble, mother." I grumble.
"You got sent to prison for a year and a half!" She exclaims. "How do you think that made me feel? You were a highly intelligent girl with a future ahead of you and now that can't happen because you felt pitied by a boy who showed you attentionâ"
"Taylor was great to me!" I scream. "He never meant for me to be involved with what he did. He apologized consistently for what he did and he was remorseful for it! He gave me attention and affection that you never gave me. I had a dad who showed and said he still loves me on a daily basis. My mom maybe said that word once or twice a month, if there was company around when I was going somewhere.
"Where was my mom when I needed one the most? Why didn't you help me? Why didn't you love me enough? Why didn't you bail me out? Why didn't you force me to stop seeing him if it bothered you so much? Why in the hell did you let me do this to myself if you knew the consequences?"
The table fell silent.
Did I really just do that? Did I really just out my mom for being a bad one? God.
What have I done?
____________________________________________________________
Hey y'all! Just to clarify something since I've been getting a few in my DM, I do realize that most 16 year olds are in grade 11, and Brooklyn skipped a grade and is at the grade she's supposed to be at for regular kids.
Y'know how her marks dropped and stuff after the Riverton incidents? Well she got held back a grade because she failed the courses, so while her friends went to grade 10 (when she was supposed to be in 11) she went with them when she got outta prison. So yes, she's in grade 11 now, but later in the book you'll see that if her marks improve she can bump up a grade again.
Just gunna clear that up because I didn't mention it beforehand.
Good reading!
âEllaina