Scarred (Bullied Book 5) (Bullied Series) Page 5

  “Now, now. As much as I hated Haydee Bumblebee, I have to admit, although begrudgingly, that he’s changed. He can still be a pain in the ass, but he’s not that controlling, abusive motherfucker anymore.”

  Mateo held my stare. “Of course you’d feel that way. You’re friends with him now.” He ran his hand down his face. “Jesus, what does that guy have that causes all the girls to be smitten with him?”

  I frowned. “Hey! Don’t even say something so gross! Do you want me to puke? Is that what you want?” I mimicked throwing up, crossing my eyes. “I’m not smitten with him. I wouldn’t even come close to him if he hadn’t changed, and I sure as hell wouldn’t support Sarah being in a relationship with such an abusive pile of cow shit. But even I can see he’s doing all he can to be better.”

  I didn’t want to mention Hayden’s therapy for borderline personality disorder. Mateo didn’t know that Hayden had BPD, which sometimes caused Hayden to be emotionally unstable and unable to control his emotions, especially his anger. Therapy had helped him a lot, along with Sarah’s support, and even though I didn’t get how she could be so understanding and patient with someone so complex, I rooted for them.

  Mateo was about to reply, but just then Shreya Wilkins stopped next to our table with her two friends, Trish and Jaya. She waved at me, her pouty lips turning up into a pearly smile. “Hi.”

  “Shreya, darling!” My eyes skimmed down her petite, curvy body. She was wearing tight jeans and a long, maroon top that complemented her caramel skin, and her long, wavy black hair was pulled up high in a ponytail. Her face was free of makeup and acne, adding to her natural half-Indian, half-British beauty.

  And to think that Barbie had used her for sex and thrown her away like a piece of trash, stomping on her heart mercilessly. That rotten cabbage.

  “Look at you! Gorgeous, as always,” I cooed as I clapped at her.

  “Thanks,” she said modestly and glanced at Mateo, who observed us with a small smile.

  “Mateo, meet Shreya,” I said. “She’s another member of the school council, the president of the math club, and my right hand who helps me cleanse the school of the evil that dwells within it.”

  Mateo gave her his panty-dropping grin, offering his hand for a handshake. “That’s pretty impressive. It’s good to meet you.”

  Instead of looking at his face, she kept her doe-brown eyes fixed on their joined hands as they shook them. “Hi,” she said shyly. “It’s good to meet you, too.”

  Now, would you look at that! A light bulb flashed in my mind, and I looked at Mateo. Then at Shreya. Then at Mateo again.

  Both of them were beautiful. Both of them were in need of true love and healing.

  And together, they looked like a poster couple.

  Matchmaking in progress . . . loading, loading, loading . . . loaded!

  As Shreya introduced her friends to Mateo, I started to concoct a plan to get them together, but then Shreya said something perfect.

  “I forgot to tell you. Guess what? I got a part-time job working at the retirement home.”

  My lips stretched into an enormous grin. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m starting this Saturday.”

  “That’s great!” I could hardly restrain myself from cracking up. “We’ll have a blast together, you’ll see.”

  She went with Jaya and Trish to find a table, and I met Mateo’s unsuspecting gaze, filled with a new purpose. “Perfect. I couldn’t have plotted this better myself.”

  Mateo frowned in confusion. “Plotted what?”

  I tittered and slurped on my drink. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  I stopped my car behind a silver minivan from the nineties, which was parked in front of a simple-looking one-story house. I checked the address on the paper again. Yep, this was the boy’s house. I shut off the engine and yawned. I was incredibly tired after another restless night because I couldn’t find Steven anywhere and his phone was permanently off. I had to put extra layers of eyeliner, dark eye shadow, and foundation to hide the fact that my eyes were tired and my face puffy.

  I read the short instructions on the paper for the hundredth time, the word “quadriplegic” filling me with unease. Last night, I’d googled about quadriplegia to get the gist of it, but I only ended up feeling more confused and incompetent. I didn’t know what was going to be expected of me, and I didn’t like not being able to control the situation. Or not being able to come up with all the possible variables and prepare myself for them. I had experience with only one person in a wheelchair—Mr. J., who was a paraplegic—but he could do almost everything on his own, and I’d never had to assist him with anything so far.

  What was Mrs. Aguda thinking? It was more likely that I’d sit in his wheelchair and wheel around pretending I was in Mario Kart than actually be of use to him. These next several weeks were going to possibly be the longest of my life.

  I got out of the car and stretched as I glanced around the low-income neighborhood. All the houses were in dire need of painting or carpentry, looking as though there had never been any kind of renovations done to them during their possibly very long lifespans. I hated the financial inequality in this world.

  If there was anything I could deduce from my quick Google search, it was that quadriplegics needed a lot of money for their care. I felt anxious about seeing this kid, because his family was probably hard up and unable to give him all the things he needed, and I knew I would feel like crap because my family had always been rolling in money.

  I noticed the front door was accessible at ground level as I approached it and rang the bell. I took a huge breath, surprised by how nervous I was. I looked at the abominations that were my barely existent nails and decided against biting them. If I bit them just one more time, I would probably start bleeding.

  The door opened, and a short East Asian girl in her twenties smiled at me. “Hi! You must be Melissa Brooks. From the Student Code program?”

  I smiled back at her. “Yep. That’s me, and I come in peace.” I made the peace sign. “I see you’ve been warned about me. Don’t worry, I’m not the devil they paint me to be. I’m as harmless as a kitten.”

  She chuckled. “That’s too bad. If you’re harmless, then you have no business here.” Me likey this girl’s sense of humor. Me likey it very much. “I’m Mawar, Elijah’s daytime caretaker. Come on in.”

  “Thanks. That’s a nice name.” I stepped inside the small hallway.

  “Thank you. It means ‘rose’ in Indonesian.”

  “Now I like it even more.”

  The hallway led into an open living room with a zero threshold connecting it to a small kitchen. The furniture was old and worn out, positioned around the room in a way that allowed a person in a wheelchair to move comfortably, but there still wasn’t much space left because the room itself was small. It was smaller than my bedroom.

  “Mr. Brown is working until late, so I’m here to tell you about your assignment. Have a seat.” She motioned with her hand to the patterned couch. “I didn’t expect you so early. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Yes, well, on top of being forc—” I coughed to cover up my slip-up. “On top of being asked to join this brilliant program, I’m also suspended. So, here I am.”

  “Eek, that’s bad. Anyway, would you like something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” I glanced around the room, almost expecting this kid to pop out of nowhere. “And where’s the kiddo?”

  “He’s in his room. I’ll introduce you two once we discuss your assignment.”

  “Just don’t tell me I have to stand on my head and juggle four balls with my feet. I can do anything except that!”

  She sat in the armchair across from me with a grin. “You won’t have to juggle four balls with your feet. You’ll have to juggle five.”

  “Oh, goodie. I’m so relieved to hear that.”

  She chuckled. “Seriously, it’s pretty simple. All you have to do is be friendly to him. That’s it. You’re
not here to take care of him, if you’re worried about that. He’s a C6 quadriplegic, so he can move his arms but not his fingers. Still, he’s independent for the most part. I take care of him mornings and afternoons, and his dad and brother take care of him the rest of the day. Sometimes, his night nurse steps in, so we’ve pretty much got him covered.”

  “So, what am I here for?”

  Her gaze went off into the distance, reflecting sympathy. “Elijah is very shy and withdrawn, and he doesn’t have friends. He goes to the spinal cord injury support group meetings once a week, but he doesn’t talk much, and it feels as though he doesn’t really want to be there but makes the effort for his dad and brother.

  “He’s homeschooled, so he spends the majority of his time in the morning with his private tutor and then with me, but there are times when he’s completely alone, and he can get lonely. That’s why when I heard about the program, I suggested Mr. Brown try it out. As you can probably guess, the long-term care expenses are astronomical, and they need to save money whenever they can. So, they won’t have to pay for this, and Elijah will hopefully make friends.”

  I wanted to ask if the boy in question had any say in this matter, but it didn’t really concern me. I was here to finish this program, not be a shrink.

  “That’s cool and all, but what if he doesn’t like me?” I asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, and it’s impossible not to like me, but let’s just say there’s that tiny, almost non-existent chance that he doesn’t. Then what?”

  “Then I guess you won’t have to come here anymore, but don’t worry about that. Now, about your schedule. You’ll come here on Wednesdays and Thursdays after school and on Sundays around that same time and spend about two hours with him. Does that work for you?”

  “Yeah. I work part-time on Sundays, but I’m free in the afternoon.”

  She clasped her hands together. “That’s great! Then you can start tomorrow. Also, if you and Elijah want to go out, you can use the minivan. It’s wheelchair accessible. I’ll just have to show you how to use the straps to secure the wheelchair to the floor.”

  I didn’t know how to feel about this, but I nodded. She took a small piece of paper from the coffee table.

  “I wrote down phone numbers for Mr. Brown, Elijah’s brother, and myself here. You can contact us if you need anything or in case of emergency.” She handed me the note, and I put it in my pocket without looking at it. “There’s also his doctor’s phone number on there. Elijah goes for regular checkups, but you never know when you’re going to need it.

  “Ah, yes. If you go out to eat, make sure he doesn’t eat sugary or fried foods. Basically, processed foods are a no-no. They’re okay sometimes, but if it were up to Elijah, he would be eating them all the time.” She chuckled. “His nutrition is important since he has a slow metabolism and his stomach gets upset easily, so we make sure he eats healthy foods in moderate portions and uses bowel medications when needed.”

  I bobbed my head, trying to soak up all this information, which was starting to sound like gibberish.

  “Also, Elijah is good about sticking to his medication and self-catheterization schedule, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  I stared at her blankly. Was she seriously expecting me to understand and remember all of that?

  She giggled. “You have no clue what I’m saying.”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s what I thought. That’s why”—she grabbed a folder from the coffee table—“I prepared something for you. I won’t burden you with all the little details, so don’t worry. I just mentioned some important aspects of his condition, so you can understand it more easily.”

  I took the folder and opened it to find a few papers filled front and back with text. If this wasn’t lengthy for her, I didn’t know what was. The Bible?

  She clapped her hands together. “Okay. I think that’s all for now. If you have any questions, just ask.”

  Questions? Of course I had questions. There were a million things I wanted to know. How had he become a quadriplegic? Could he feel pain or touch at all? Did he feel it when he had to fart? Would he ever walk again?

  Why did life suck?

  So many questions. But I only asked, “Where is his mom?”

  Mawar’s smile faded. “She and Mr. Brown divorced, and she doesn’t live here.” That was all she said, and I got the message.

  “No more questions,” I said and closed the folder.

  “Okay. I’ll call Elijah now.” She stood up. “Oh, one more thing.” What now? “Don’t call him Elijah. He doesn’t like it, because he thinks it sounds too old-fashioned. Call him Eli.”

  My leg jiggled with nerves. “Sure. I’ll call him Donald Duck if he wants. It’s all the same to me.”

  She left, and I jumped to my feet. I was too tense to stay in one spot. I walked around the room, inspecting my surroundings. There wasn’t a lot of furniture or decorations, and the walls were painted in a pastel green that was more suitable for a hospital than a living room, but it felt more homey than my own house. There was a manual wheelchair in the corner, right next to a small TV stand bearing an average-sized flat-screen television, which was currently showing the Discovery Channel, its sound muted. Diagonally across from the chair was a small wall shelf filled with family photos, and I approached it, my interest piqued.

  I leaned in to look closely at a photo of two boys and an older man sitting next to a lake, but then I froze, my heart beginning to pump rapidly.

  No—it couldn’t be. I grabbed the picture frame and narrowed my eyes as I looked at the older boy, who was grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world, and thought perhaps fate was playing a joke on me, but it was the worst joke ever, and fate should really take a refresher course on how to joke, and take it pronto.

  I put back the frame on the shelf none too gently and withdrew the slip of paper containing the information about my assignment from my pocket. I read the name again— “Elijah Brown.”

  I’d been sure the last name was just a coincidence. It was so common I’d found it ridiculous to even think Barbie could be related to him in any way.

  But, no. That waste of space was actually Elijah’s brother, and I was in his house—a house that was low-income and in an impoverished neighborhood, contrary to the rich-boy image he’d built at school.

  I crumpled the paper in my hand and stuffed it back in my pocket. There was no way I could tolerate him every time I came here. I should go. To hell with the program and the consequences. I didn’t have to go to college. I could . . . I could go to some farm and become a farmer. Yes—that would be a productive career too, and I would help feed people. I should definitely learn how to harvest crops or milk cows, and—

  “Melissa?” Mawar called, and I spun around to face her.

  She stood next to a boy in a power wheelchair who looked far younger than sixteen years old, which was the age noted in the document I’d received. His hands rested in his lap, almost closed in fists. He was looking at some spot on the floor, seeming so shy and innocent, but what struck me the most was that he was Barbie’s replica, with his enthralling blue eyes, chiseled face, and short blond hair that curled a little at its ends.

  I couldn’t come to grips with it, because I associated Barbie’s looks with everything that was wrong with the world. Someone looking like that couldn’t be as sweet and pure as this boy here. It was weird, and my mouth wanted to spew out some insult by default, but my brain had to step in and remind me that Elijah wasn’t my enemy.

  I skipped toward him and waved, wearing my most blinding grin. “Hello! I come from the planet Awesome to tell you that you’ve been chosen to join our ranks of awesomeness to make you even more awesome!”

  He stared at me wide-eyed, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not I was out to lunch. I noticed a trace of sadness in his eyes, and it tugged at something deep within my chest.

  “I’m Melissa, but you can call me General Awesome.” I pressed my hand against my c
hest dramatically. “And together, you and I will rule the world.” I winked at him.

  He just stared at me, and then stared some more, the silence in the room stretching into infinity . . .

  Then he let out a chuckle, and then another, his dimpled cheeks growing rosy. My heart inflated at the sight.

  “You’re insane,” he said, his voice, to my surprise, sounding manly. Yeah, your brother feels the same way. “I’m Eli.”

  He stretched out his arm toward me, and I glanced at his closed fist, confused by the action, but then it dawned on me. I grinned and accepted his handshake, wrapping my hand around his fist.

  I wagged my finger at him. “You mean, you’re General Fabulous! It’s very nice to meet you! Keep being this fabulous, and pretty soon I’ll give you coupon for a hundred percent off an unlimited supply of Hershey bars.”

  Mawar giggled and tapped Eli’s shoulder. “You see what I told you? You two will have so much fun.”

  He nodded, his lips curling up into the shyest of smiles for a brief moment, and now, looking at him, I realized she might be right.

  Maybe this program wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  The next day, I shifted my car into park behind the minivan and fist-pumped the air when I saw Barbie’s Corvette was nowhere in sight. I was rethinking my initial assessment from yesterday that this wouldn’t be so bad—coming here was going to be a nightmare because of Barbie, and since the school day was now over, he might show up at any moment and ruin my day. I had to steel myself for the puke attack that was certain to happen once I saw him.

  “I should bring rodent repellent next time. It’d perfect for getting rid of the likes of him,” I said to myself as I got out of my car.

  Now that I thought about it, his car would stand out a lot in this neighborhood. I could just imagine the looks on his neighbors’ faces every time he pulled in this small driveway. And how had he managed to get a car like that anyway? He’d been playing the role of a sexy, rich bad boy with designer clothes and a sports car too well, pretending he was as rich as his besties Haydee Bumblebee and Blake Jones, and for what?