Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
I was shy, awkward, in braces, and felt as gangly as anything. He was already filling out, the school's champion wrestler and a football player, too. He was cool and popular. I was an outcast, rejected by even the rejects. Ben would have people fighting to sit at his table during lunch but no one sat with me. Even in a crowded cafeteria I was alone.
Meryl loved this picture but I just see the tension. Our smiles are forced. Ben's arms are crossed over his chest showing his well defined biceps as he stares off past the camera. I'm trying to smile without showing my braces. My eyes, even in the picture, aren't on the mouse, they're on Ben. He used to be my hero.
I remember the first day in the cafeteria after our parents got married.
I always held back going to lunch during school. It made me feel less like an outcast if I chose to sit on my own instead of watching all the kids look at my empty table then choose to sit somewhere else. I walked in, my books clutched to my chest as usual, and made my way through the mostly empty line. As I got done two guys stepped up in front of me. I tried to step aside but they stepped with me. I kept my eyes to the ground, just wanting to sit down. The entire lunchroom was watching. I could feel their eyes burning into me, waiting to see me humiliated.
"Excuse me," I murmured.
"Excuse me," one of them mocked me.
They were jocks, I don't remember who they were but they had on their letter jackets and lots of patches. One of them flipped my tray so that it spilled covering me in food. I looked down at my ruined clothes tears leaking from my eyes.
"Clean that mess up," one of them taunted.
I closed my eyes and prayed it would be over soon. I knelt and started to gather up the mess trying to clean off my books.
"Don't."
I knew that voice but it couldn't be. He wouldn't get involved.
I looked up and there, surrounded by a shining halo of fluorescent light created by my tears, was Ben. Massive, strong, stable Ben. He reached a hand down to me. I took it without thinking and he helped me to my feet then he turned on the two boys.
"Hey Brandt, what your problem?" one of the boys said.
I wiped at my tears, knots in my stomach as waves of nausea passed over me.
"Leave her alone," Ben said. Ben was never loud.
"Why?"
I didn't clearly see what happened then. There was a blur then the one who spoke was on the ground screaming and blood ran between his fingers. The other guy backed off with his hands up. Ben just looked at him.
"Hey, sorry man. Keep the loser!" he said while slowly backing away.
"She's not a loser, she's my stepsister."
She's my stepsister. I smiled so wide my jaw hurt and my braces shone.
That was the single greatest moment of my childhood. The day he stood up for me. After that Ben was always around. All the way to the end of his Senior year.
When he left, he never looked back. Just like my mom.
I put the picture down in its place and return to sorting. After a few moments I look at it again. I walk back over and place it face down so I don't have to look at it anymore.
Chapter two
Hours pass. It seems strange a person's life comes down to this. Their remains placed in memoriam, the rest of their life a strange collection of objects that held meaning for them but now serve no purpose. Piles of clothes surround me making it hard to walk through the bedroom. Another hour and I should be done with this room.
A siren echoes through the quiet house. It draws closer until I'm sure it's passing right by. Navigating my way through the clothes, I make my way to the window so I can look outside. More sirens approach and they keep getting louder. Lights flash through the large bay window casting the walls in red and blue neon.
Pulling the curtain aside there are two police cars parked in front on either side of a limousine. Cold chills run down my arms. He wouldn't! I shake my head as disbelief floods through me. The driver gets out and almost runs to the rear door. Standing to one side he opens it.
Ben steps out of the limo. His sharp gray eyes look at the house as he frowns like seeing his childhood home is distasteful to him. His hair is slicked back but the waves of it still show. He's tanned, even more so then I remember. He's dressed in tight fitting jeans with a t-shirt that does nothing to hide his abs and seems to cling to each individual muscle. He reaches in to the darkness of the limo and pulls out a sports jacket that he throws over one shoulder.