Smells Like Teen Spirit
show: Young and the Restless
central character: Reed Hellstrom mostly featuring
notes: My first writing piece of 2018. And here's focused on Reed. This will be split into 3 parts at most.
summary: With the lights on, it's less dangerous. / Or, in which Reed Hellstrom feels stupid & contagious [Reed-centric, with mentions of other characters]
disclaimer: I own nothing. The show or Mr. Cobain's estate shouldn't sue me. It's all for entertainment purposes. My broke ass expects nothing, tbh. I'm sure there are typos. I'll do a better edit in the morning. I'm tired and going to sleep. Goodnight.
PART ONE
Stupid & Contagious
A mother was supposed to know. A mother was supposed to know when her child was happy, when they weren't, when they were truly safe and when they were screaming for help even when silent. A mother was supposed to feel her baby kick for the first time, tear up when she heard that little heartbeat of a life created. Victoria was sure a mother was supposed to feel her heart grow along with the baby, day to day and month to month. She got up from her office chair, hand automatically find her abdomen. There was a faded scar from Reed being born premature but she didn't remember it.
She didn't remember hearing Reed cry, kicking and screaming his way into the world. There was just a big blank in that part of her life and would be forever. Stories and old Polaroids taped to the pages of a baby book were all she had. Victoria glanced at her phone and then the picture of her and Reed on her new desk. She understood that her son was growing and changing and she had to learn to adapt. Victoria could do that and for a while thought she was okay. That she and Reed were okay. All of a sudden, they weren't. All of a sudden, Reed was angrier, and colder. It wasn't the same as last year. It wasn't about a kid running away. Maybe, it was Reed being stuck in something, in a sort of pain he told no one about and in turmoil, he didn't want anyone else to touch.
Victoria started outside her window, headlights of cars going to places and from others. They all looked like fireflies that were different in size and hue but uniform in movement. Her heart lurched as she questioned which pair of tiny headlights belonged to Reed, headlights out of formation with alcohol consumed underage in his body. She had gotten the call with JT that night and found Reed being held in a cell but he was alive and she had been blind with quiet rage. Victoria found it easier to be angry in contrast to JT being equal parts shocked and equal parts disappointed.
—
As Victoria let JT drive her car home with Reed sullen and undoubtedly tired, she looked at him. It was here, his eyes said to her. I know, hers said back as her head pounded at the same time as her heart. It was her car, registered under her name. Her license plate. Her son. The same son she couldn't remember giving birth to could have killed someone. The same child Victoria could not remember bringing into the world could have killed himself.
"Jesus Christ, Reed," JT said on a sigh with a slight shake of his head. "What were you thinking, man?"
"I wasn't. I wasn't thinking and yep, I messed up like I always do. Is that what you want you guys want to hear?"
Victoria turned around in her seat to meet Reed's stormy eyes and she tried not to nearly recoil and flinch. How the hell had he been this angry? How had he been this filled with resentment underneath her roof as she saw him day in and day out? She stared right back at him, and stared him down as JT turned onto her street and into her driveway.
"You don't get to have a smart mouth here or ever."
It was a battle that Reed lost and he glanced away from her. She heard him curse underneath his breath and when the car stopped, Victoria watched him open the door, slam it and stalk away. JT put her car in park, and dropped her keys into her waiting palm. The cold metal hit her hand and it sent a chill up the column of her spine. The chill spread itself out, burrowing itself in her veins and her blood felt like it was crystalizing until frozen.
Reed could have died, twisted up in the mental of this car. That memory – that hypothetical picture – of having to see her child on a morgue table with JT next her would be unforgettable. It would have been imprinted in her brain, branded in her heart and a permanent mark on her soul.
"What do we do, Victoria?"
Victoria met his worried gaze while trying to not focus on her own sense of worrying. She exhaled, and almost glared at him because she was envious of the fact that he was once a teenage boy and she wasn't. She had no idea and when Reed preferred to bury things and not come talk anymore, it was hard to know. Victoria wasn't as magical or as witchy as people thought she was. It would have been helpful right about now.
"I don't know," Victoria answered, blinking the tears back. It wasn't the time for that right now. There was just the future, the new year, what was going to happen with her family and what things meant for Reed from here on out, legally and otherwise. "I don't know," she repeated quietly, "but I'm okay with his anger. It means he's alive and luckier than most."
JT offered her a wry smile, despite the uncertainty and regret in his eyes.
"Yeah. He's alive."
A sharp car horn in the distance sounded, bringing Victoria back to the present. She was back in Newman Tower about to finish up her work for the day. She turned away from her window, eyes landing on the framed photos in her newly refurbished office. Every face meant something to her until her eyes landed on the face of the person she needed to see right now. It was late but in Victoria's mind, she needed to find some comfort and more than anything, a little perspective.
Victoria picked her phone and dialed, almost from memory.
It rang three times until the voice on the other end answered.
"Hey, I know it's late, but I really need to see you. It's urgent and…I just need my brother right now. Get over here, please."
—
"What? Reed was charged with a DUI?" Nick questioned, sitting in the seat across from her desk. He sighed, and shook his head. "I mean, I don't hold breaking into the Underground and the fire against him. He made a mistake but getting behind the wheel while drinking underage. Vick, what the hell?"
Victoria handed him a cup of coffee while taking a careful sip of herbal tea. She had enough coffee for one work day. Caffeine wasn't the reason she was so jumpy and on edge but it could keep her mind focused and allow her to be more attuned to being COO with even lasered focus than usual. In between figuring out Reed's punishment with JT, meeting up with Michael to discuss things with Reed legally and being one of the many people Reed was angry with, Victoria needed the tea to calm her down and her brother to give her advice with a bit of his brutal yet gentle honesty.
She set her mug down after blowing on its steaming top and taking a sip of it before she sank down into her chair. Victoria let the mug warm up her palms.
"Honestly, Nick," she began, glancing down into her mug before she raised her eyes to meet her brother's, "I don't know what to do. We were fine. It was hard when he came back last year but we were working at it until we were at this place where everything was…balanced. Like I knew who he was now and he knew me."
"So, what happened?"
Victoria shook her head, remembering that for all the progress she and Reed had made, JT's return, as welcomed as it was, threw the sense of homeostasis off-kilter and shifted the dynamic. She brought the mug to her lips for another mouthful of warm tea and perhaps, an attempt to find clarity. Victoria felt it. She was walking in the dark and when there was light, she was standing in Reed's messy bedroom but he was gone and had no idea where he was. In other dreams, she knew where he was, knew Reed was safe but she couldn't get to him. She couldn't touch him, couldn't feel it no matter how hard she beat against this invisible wall between them.
"My son grew up, got behind the wheel of a car drunk and thought he was above it all. Reed has all this anger and all this pain," Victoria confessed, tears misting her vision. "Nick, I'm scared. I don't know. When he was little and he hurt himself, I would kiss it better and it was fine. He was fine. Now…" she trailed off and Nick's face turned sympathetic. "I feel like he's on this slippery slope. I missed so much with Reed. So many years. So many milestones. When I usually worry about the sheer number of little girls charmed by Johnny or Katherine's mean streak as sweet and funny as she is, I can handle that. They're little. With Reed…" she sighed, locking eyes with Nick as he went from amused with Johnny and Katherine to serious with Reed. Even years later, Victoria caught the pain in Nick's face. He had experience in raising Noah who was an exceptional young man. She wasn't just saying that as his aunt. He truly was. Noah was the most grounded and she adored him for it.
But her brother had experience with raising a teenager that was fundamentally good – and that was her niece, Cassie – but got caught up in being in a tragic situation because something went wrong, or something fell through the cracks.
"I know, Vick," he replied, solemnly. "Noah's a man but it wasn't easy. Faith is already years older than she actually is. Even Christian and Connor. Those boys are so different personality wise and changing every day. Cassie," Nick said quieter this time, moving his mug out of the way to hold her hand, "is gone because of an accident. She never got to be a woman, get to know Mariah, know Faith or get to build more memories with Noah. Cassie… I'll miss her until the day I die, but you have a shot, Victoria. Don't doubt yourself as a mother when it comes to Reed. You and JT will make it work."
She stood and drifted around her office. Victoria slowly paced, still feeling Nick's eyes on her. Victoria could still the Underground in a fiery halo of bright orange, black smoke curling around it and even could see how vibrant the yellow tape keeping her back from Reed was. She could also hear the disjointed voice of an imaginary doctor telling her the worst and thrusting her into a nightmare she could never wake up from it. Reed almost did that to her, almost did that to his father and could have done that to another family. If Mattie had gotten in the car and Reed had injured her, Victoria would have never forgiven herself. Despite all her issues with Cane, Mattie was a lovely young lady and was grateful she had attempted to make Reed see reason.
"If I had lost him, Nick…" she started and trailed off, voice broken on the brink of a sob.
"You didn't, okay?"
Nick wordlessly got up and pulled her into a warm hug she needed. Victoria merely rested her head on her brother's shoulder, not bothering to stop the tear that rolled down her cheek. And still, Victoria was left wondering.
—
Reed didn't remember much at school. Not when there was the DUI, his arrest and this upcoming court date. It's not that he didn't care. He did. Reed knew all about the dangers of drunk driving. Wisconsin was a state with the highest rates of drunk driving deaths, was a zero-tolerance state even though he blew a 0.05 blood alcohol level and the worst that could happen to him was a three month suspension. He knew all of this because his American Law class was interesting enough to pay attention. Maybe that would be his fall back plan because music was going to blow up in his face. He knew this was all wrong and even ignoring Mattie's texts was wrong. Logically, she was trying to help. She did.
As much as they drove him crazy, Mom and Dad were trying to help him. Reed didn't want it from them. He chuckled to himself as he brought his half-smoked cigarette to his lips and inhaled another drag. He blew it out and watched the orange glow flicker out under his shoe before walking into a school that seemed strange to him. Imagine that, he thought walking numbly to his locker. Imagine being the oldest kid in the family only to be outnumbered by four little kids. Most people would consider that lucky and as much as he missed DJ and Becca, he loved being Johnny and Katie's big brother. In the middle of all of this bullshit, Reed loved that Johnny would crawl into his bed when he didn't want to sleep in own bed. Reed didn't mind that. He actually missed Katie's giggles, found her everything that came out of her mouth hilarious and loved when she jumped on his bed to wake him up. They were the best parts of his life. Johnny was his buddy and Katie was as close to sunshine as one could get even though his little sister had a mean streak.
At least Johnny and Katie loved him enough to not look at him like a loser. He grabbed his American Law I textbook, slammed his locker door shut and walked away to the one class he had where no one really knew him. Usually, he could pay attention – the sections on criminal and corporate law were his favourite to be honest – but today, Reed didn't want to remember. He wanted to smoke until he forgot, eat Lou's weed brownies until anything made him laugh, and drink until he stumbled into oblivion.
Stumbling into oblivion
Wrapped in smoke
And tumbling into nothing.
Reed could play with that sentence in his head. Manipulate them and bend them until they became musical lyrics of a song not yet titled and never sung. But he wouldn't. Not because he couldn't but because he didn't care. Reed knew he would be sad later, angry even sooner but now, he couldn't reach for any kind of emotion that made sense. Dad's breakup with Mac. Mom's breakup with Billy even when he accepted that. Never really having them as his parents because he couldn't remember them being married.
He strode in, eyes scanning for an empty seat until he found one in the back. Reed heard people say hi to him. He may have not. They may have been looking at him because whispers carried his DUI to people at GC High, or they may have not known anything or cared. This time last year he was the new kid in the spotlight and this year, Reed Hellstrom just wanted to disappear. Especially when Ms. Ortega began her class on Wisconsin laws on vehicle related offenses from DUIs to vehicluar manslaughter.
—
While Reed worked his way through an in-class case study he asked to do alone, Ms. Ortega came by and dropped a Post-It with See Me written on it.
He didn't know how he did it or why he even completed the assignment slash pop quiz…whatever the hell this was. All Reed knew was that it was not his brain making sense of this imagined scenario. All he could think was that Chuck, the alcoholic father of two, is so fucking stupid and how the hell could he possibly drive? Reed didn't know how his brain made his pen move smoothly against paper to write down the right things, but here he was doing it again. Reed didn't know if he was right or wrong. Right. Wrong. He would have said life wasn't as rigid as Mom saw it or as fast and loose as dad did, but since that rejection e-mail from that summer music program and this damn DUI, he was realizing that he didn't know shit. When he was an empty blank, why the hell would he want to relearn anything from scratch?
He got to her desk to wordlessly hand in his work and leave to the next his schedule told him to. Ms. Ortega's brown eyes stared at him curiously as she handed back an assignment he had done before the Christmas break and then she smiled softly at him. She wasn't a woman who messed around and was a hard marker. She answered the last student's question and then Reed was alone with her.
He adjusted the strap of his bag and plastered a smile on his face but his stomach turned. Reed couldn't get in trouble again or Mom would find a way to chain him to the basement wall with Dad only letting him to piss or take a shit. Still, Reed plastered an easygoing smile on his face and looked normal on the outside.
"Am I in trouble?"
His teacher turned his graded assignment in her hands. Reed could make out the bright red permanent marker. She raised an eyebrow in his directions, pink glossed lips set in a thin line. A pinprick of anxiety hit Reed somewhere in the chest in the silence.
"Why do you think you're in trouble?"
He shrugged and sighed, "Because I guess, when your teacher says 'see me', it seems like the right thing to say."
Ms. Ortega watched him for a few more seconds.
"Ah," she replied, with a slow nod. She held his assignment out to him and he took it, almost reflexively about to stuff it in his bag. But he didn't. Now, Reed was curious as to why he was here. He prayed it wasn't about this damn drinking and driving thing. "In any case, it's good, Reed. Exceptional. Take a look."
Reed did as his teacher said and tentatively flipped to the front of the page.
Oh.
This couldn't have been his paper. It was wrong. A 98 percent?
"I… This isn't… How…" Reed stammered.
"You applied yourself and followed the instructions of the assignment," Ms. Ortega said with a deadpanned tone. A smaller smile pulled at her lips and Reed watched the teacher relax. She pulled a lock of her dark hair back revealing a gold earring in one of her pierced ears. "But really, Mr. Hellstrom, what it comes down to is this. You're talented musically. That's a given. However, you have also raw talent when it comes to law. I don't know where you'll end up, but I see potential."
"I hate suits," he blurted out although it sounded better in his head. He apologized and stuffed the newly graded assignment in his bag. Reed didn't know what it meant. Maybe he was going at this class and understanding all the legal stuff because he had a talent at bending the rules. Only this time, Reed had bent the laws until he had broken them. He exhaled, combing his hair. "I'm sorry. I just…do. I can't do the lawyer thing for a living."
Ms. Ortega listened and then nodded, "Fair enough. But law can take you just about anywhere and they intersect other careers, so you'll have options. I'm just saying that I can see you in law school. Good work, Reed. You're one of my highest graded students. You don't talk very much, but when you do, it's of substance and you're stubborn which helps if it's controlled. Again, it's up to the cards you're dealt. You're a smart kid."
"Thank you…I think?"
Ms. Ortega nodded and then took a pen, scribbled something on that same pad.
"Mr. Richards won't give you too much trouble for being a little late to English. Go."
"Thanks."
Reed took the note gratefully and walked out to English – the one class where everyone knew him when he still, more than anything, wanted to be left alone.
Steps away from his English class, his phone went off and when he looked, it was Mattie.
He put it back in his pocket, leaving the new text unread.
—
English was painful. Everyone either talked to him, or stared at him so much Reed felt their eyes burn hotter against his back worse than Mom's Ice Queen look ever could. He didn't care who he was next to even though Jensen, for once, left him alone. Lou had been texting him all day and sometimes he answered while other times, he didn't. Even as they didn't sit beside each other. Reed tried not to focus on his best friend's face falling when he walked past his usual seat and headed for yet another back seat. Corrinne had been her awesome, bubbly self and even got a new girlfriend over the holidays. Reed couldn't possibly be mean to her. When she saw him in the halls, she merely hugged him warmer than usual, wished a happy New Year and walked away.
Reed remembered having sex with her twice and for once, was glad he did. He was glad their friendship hadn't been tainted by their sexual encounters. To this day, Reed didn't know what had drawn them together in that way. Maybe the music. Maybe the fact that they were able to bounce ideas of each other so easily they really didn't have to say anything at all. The music was their own secret language and her spoken poetry were almost magic. It was as enthralling to watch as watch Grandma on the piano. A language made of piano notes, chords on a guitar, the back of a drum no matter the type. It was her who had submitted both of them for the summer music program, and neither of them got in. A part of him wanted to be angry with her but her intentions had been good and she had done nothing wrong. Like Mattie. Corinne had did nothing to him and yet he envied her because she seemed to be moving while he was stuck in some strange quicksand.
Reed shifted in his seat, his eyes fixed on his sheet of lined paper. Richards was one of those teachers who taught like a professor who hadn't found the university. He didn't treat them like they were stupid, but he rubbed Reed the wrong way. On a normal day, he did his work, handed his English assignments on time because they were the only thing Mr. Richards made interesting, and always tried to stay away from being called upon even when he knew the stuff. Today, Reed was spent. He was tired in a way that wasn't physical. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be home. He didn't want to be anywhere and yet here he was. Reed instead let himself doodle on the margins of an empty notebook page absentmindedly. He didn't see an English class surrounded by people who knew him and taught by a teacher who sounded like he had swallowed his own testicles.
Instead, he let his black pen scratch against the surface of the notebook page. He saw a door, painted black like The Stones always sang. It was black underneath red. Black painted dripped over the red surface and was made invisible as if it never appeared. He heard sharp sirens crack the silence although he never saw the red and blue lights that would have followed them. The noise rang not just behind him but all around him. It made him jump in his chair when Mr. Richards called him to answer a question he didn't hear. The pen rolled across the desk and hung precariously over the edge but it didn't fall. Reed drove with alcohol buzzed in his veins – not drunk – but didn't quite crash and burn. He certainly didn't die fast and young. Reed was just going to die in English class in the throes of boredom and in mid-doodle.
"Mr. Hellstrom, am I boring you?"
"What?"
A few kids snickered and he frowned.
"You were doodling," Mr. Richards explained. His thick eyebrows knitted together. The longer he stared at the doodle on the paper, the longer Reed felt exposed. The door scratched hastily on his notebook paper wasn't done yet. It wasn't finished, but Reed guessed it had to be enough. Losing his license was enough. Experiencing what jail was like – well, the Tank – was more than enough and somewhere he never wanted to experience again. It wasn't that Reed wasn't built for jail. He could find ways to survive if he looked hard enough but he didn't want to be in that position. One school day was hard enough and if he didn't get out of here, he would unravel.
"Oh," Reed replied, as if surprised. He hoped he looked apologetic enough for Mr. Richards to buy it and leave him alone. Really, it should have been a middle finger instead of a door. "Sorry."
"Wish that were true," the teacher replied and announced to the class. "An attempt at symbolism has been made, scholars!"
Reed looked confused and looked at Jensen, who shrugged.
"No, it hasn't," he said again. Reed looked at the teacher, caught his best friend's gaze before Lou broke it first and glanced away from him. Something akin to anger bubbled underneath his skin and he could taste the beer in the back of his throat again. He could feel the cold air sharper against his face as he was pulled over by the officer and knew who it was. Lou really did have his mom's face. Kind of like what people said about him looking like his mom.
"And why is that, Mr. Hellstrom?"
The teacher sounded mildly annoyed and Reed couldn't find the ability to care. At this point, he just wanted another smoke.
"Because you were right," Reed smiled and leaned back coolly in his chair. "You're really are boring me. I fought with my girlfriend because she tried to get me to call a cab and well, we're not together. I didn't listen. Oops. Jail was fun times. I mean, between the hooker telling me she'd let me eat her out for 20 because I looked like what I knew what I was doing," he recounted and shuddered, "and the homeless guy wanting my liver for money, it was great. My dad's back in town. My mom is back to suffocating me. I don't want to hear about The Raven when I got a DUI. I'll do whatever assignment you want, but don't make me sit here, man."
Mr. Richards paused, chuckled and then laughed. It was a genuine laugh and Reed saw a man who rarely smiled do just that, ear to ear.
"Imagine trying to be deep in 2018 and failing as you did in 2017," a familiar voice drawled. It made Reed's skin burn hot and feel cold at the same time. Then there was a laugh behind him.
"Stay tuned," Lou spoke, looking at Peter. "This is the first stupid shit about to be said in 2018. Please, Adams. What kind of verbal piece of headassery we gone get?"
Jensen whipped around and glared, "You must not like having lungs, Pete."
Peter Adams was the Golden Boy of GC High, Student Body President and would probably be voted Most Likely to Succeed. But he rubbed Reed the entirely wrong way. He would be the kind of boy Mattie would date. Of course, he would. He wore ties, sometimes suits, smiled brightly while the girls fell for those dimples and spoke as if every day was a campaign to hold onto the power he had. Reed had a well known rivalry with the guy and could have been close to hating him. At least Peter couldn't use this DUI against him and Reed didn't need to add justifiable assault. Mom didn't need more reasons to yell at him while listing all the ways his life could go to shit when he knew. Dad didn't need to project whatever life failures onto him and continue treating him like a pet project.
"Pay attention, class!" Mr. Richards yelled over the bubbling noise that conflicted with the sharp ringing in Reed's head and slight stabbing behind his eyes. He needed coffee, sleep, a bit of quiet or all three. "Pay attention," the English teacher chided again. Mr. Richards twirled a pencil between his fingers. "This is literature. Reed's story of misguided decisions crossing over with Peter's story of superficiality. Mr. Humphries and Mr. Jensen are a Greek chorus."
"I'm not superficial!"
"Wow. Look at you going to hell for lying like you wouldn't suck another dick for attention if you haven't already. But continue."
"I… don't sing, bro."
Of course, Jensen didn't. Even drunk, he didn't and Reed had a flash of a happy memory of Steph threatening to pound his vocal box to dust if he tried.
Reed sighed, rolling his eyes. Only he would relate this shit to Robert Frost. It wasn't a fire and ice situation. It was a matter of noticing Peter Adams had a face he had an overwhelming urge to punch and was left wondering how it would feel to have that rat's spine curved over his front bumper. That's when Reed knew he had to leave and leave now. He was headed into dark territory, triggered by things of his own making and made worse by other people. Nothing was intersecting with anything else. He wanted Jensen to stop defending him. He wanted Lou to stop his fucking commentary. He wanted Mr. Richards to be a normal teacher and let him go home. After this was music class, his favourite class, but Reed didn't want to stay in this cesspool.
He was going to get the fuck out of here, but he wasn't going to let that walking piece of shit make him feel worse about this drinking and driving thing when he already did. Peter Adams was the lowest kind of human trash no matter the year.
Reed stood and so did Peter. He was going to be stomp that little bitch – they were roughly the same height – one day, but today, wouldn't be that day.
"Ah, the braindead alcoholic can actually function."
"You really want me to kick your ass, don't you?"
"I'd love to see you attempt it without your 'crew' backing you."
"Reed," Lou said, "you're ghosting everybody. Even me. But if you don't break this fool… Break his ass, man!"
"Gentlemen," Mr. Richards warned, going back to that tone he was used to. It made Reed think for a minute that it was a normal day. "Conflict is good. However, this isn't a coliseum. Stand down immediately."
"No worries. I'm not touching him," Reed assured, easily. "It's really cool how you top yourself, Peter. I mean, how do you do it? Hey. I got a DUI. Lost my girlfriend and yup, I'm a loser. But you just confuse me."
"Are you drunk right now?"
"I wish," he smirked. "I just want to know how you manage to be an even bigger cunt this year than you were last year. I'm just amazed, but," Reed clapped his shoulder hard enough to make the other boy wince. Reed almost saw something like fear in his eyes but wasn't sure, "keep up that lame consistency."
Peter laughed and asked, the fear in his eyes gone.
"You think if I ask Mattie Ashby out, she'd say yes? You messed up and besides," Peter grinned fully at him now, "it'll make you crazy knowing I have her. Truly have her when you probably haven't even tried. You know what they say about good girls, don't you? Have you even wondered what she was like? What she felt like? Maybe I'll know and tell you how good your bitch tastes, Hellstrom."
"Reed, kill his ass or I will!"
"Mr. Adams! Enough!"
What?
"Shut up!" Reed yelled to silence the roaring vacuum in his head and the noise in the classroom. "Remember when I said I wasn't going to touch you? I lied, you prick."
Reed reached over and took Natalia Malone's half-finished sweet lemon tea, took off the domed top off and to the soundtrack of screaming, visuals of dropped jaws, threw the drink in Asshat Adams' face. Jensen hollered, Lou swore while laughing, and Mr. Richards really sounded annoyed. There was no denying it now. Maybe Grandma was right when she told him about being cursed with addiction. Addiction didn't always mean drugs, he realized, just now. Reed realized he was addicted to solitude and would do anything to get it. Hurt people while lying to others. Like now. Peter wiped the ice and sticky tea away from his face and Reed watched his face contort into one of pure rage. Maybe it was instinct or the past few days catching with him. Maybe it was Reed being twisted around and churning in this emotional storm. Maybe Reed just did it to feel good and damn, it really did, but when Peter charged at him, Reed dodged it and then swung. He saw his fist curled tightly, traveling fast. It landed and connected with Peter's nose and then there was a sickening crack in the air and there was red everywhere.
There was a red river of blood dripping down Peter's face, red in Mr. Richards' face and when he glanced down, his knuckles were reddened. He didn't feel anything and went comfortably numb.
—
"Holy shit, his nose is broken! It looks broken. Someone get the First Aid kit."
"Reed Hellstrom just got crazy hot and he's totally single again! Yassss!"
"Jesus, Peter got fucked up! What a bitch!
"Well, that's how it is. Talk shit. Get hit!"
"A sucker punch though? First, he drives drunk and now, he sucker punches somebody! Shit's as weak as the crap he calls music—"
"Peter's a disgusting, misogynistic piece of crap. But this is who you weak-minded assholes voted for as Student Body President?"
—
In this story, Reed Hellstrom was either victim, vigilante or even somewhat of a villain.
He didn't know. Couldn't decide. Didn't care.
Reed finally grabbed his things and left because he knew he would kill that piece of shit and be a murderer otherwise.
—
If you get in that car, I'm calling the police.
You'd narc on me? Fine. Just know that if you do, I'll never forgive you.
Reed wasn't lying when he told his grandmother he didn't do drugs. He didn't. He wasn't a user. Not any way that would trigger the need for him to think that perhaps, he had a thing with addiction. He didn't know what it felt like to have the tip of a needle underneath his veins prepared to take him to a sky filled with diamonds. He had no area how to expertly cut lines of white powder on the surface someone's table like Jensen did. He really didn't know the effects of cough syrup and alcohol. Overdoses were scary to experience and intense for everyone because it meant someone could have died. He wasn't high. He just happened to be in a much better mood than he was this morning. He smiled lazily as he brought the joint to his lips, inhaled and laughed as he exhaled.
He handed Steph the smaller joint and she took a hit too. He glanced at her, almost jealous that she was as she was. Did anything phase her? Was his best friend even human? She smoothly took another deep drag before putting it out in her ashtray. Reed was confused as why this place was called The Lair, but he was too busy wondering why the walls of the Larsen family guesthouse seemed to move. The movement was slow and fluid and the quicker like the staccato of a heartbeat. Steph got up, checked her phone and then rolled over facing him.
"You're stoned, kid," Steph told him in that raspy voice of hers. It was direct and matter-of-fact. She ruffled his hair and could have slapped her hand away but didn't. He brought his hand to his face. His silver rings glinted like high beam flashlights hitting his eyes. Reed's knuckles were still rough and red and he swore they were warm with Adams' blood caked in the little cuts. Maybe they were.
He met her amused blue eyes. "No," he protested, and laughed with a slight cough. "I'm not high. I don't do drugs. I told my grandmother I didn't. I'm not high."
"You said that already. You wanna tell me why you clocked Peter Adams in his Kennedy looking face?"
Reed closed his eyes, red exploding behind them.
"Mmmm. No, not really," he answered, and then grumbled in a moment that cut through the marijuana smoke curtain. He saw a bright smile, sparkling brown eyes behind frames and curls. He didn't want to. Reed saw Peter kissing her, touching her as she resisted and then touching her as Mattie enjoyed it in pure bliss. He added, muttering, feeling sick. "I hate that rat faced motherfucker."
"Because you have sense this time," Steph replied and added with a rare honesty in her eyes. She could have looked scared in that moment and there, it was gone. She rolled over to her side on the carpet, her hair a curtain of artificially dyed purple grey. Her eyes were piercing. He noticed the new industrial piercing in her ear but found himself not caring. All he cared about was this comfortable, heavy blanket he was under. The stars twinkled a little brighter on Steph's ceiling. He glanced upwards and laughed as they exploded in grey tones.
"Your ceiling's exploding."
"It does that when you're stoned."
"I'm not—"
"Shut up. Let's establish you are, and be done," Steph said, cutting him off and stared him in the eyes. He heard the natural rasp in her voice. It was more pronounced and could have acted like the edges of a sword. For the first time ever in the time, Reed had been friends with Stephanie Larsen, he realized her eyes were the most pronounced part of her face. Yeah, her eyes were beautiful, but when her eyes were the most expressive. Steph's eyes stuck with him so deeply that he found him one day writing a song lyrics. When Mattie asked him about it, he lied. She wouldn't understand it when he was selfish to define what his friendship with Steph was.
Her eyes held his secrets while burying some of her own from most people. Steph's secrets were never allowed to breathe as he learned to guard them, and bury them underneath his mental floorboards. Her innermost wishes were never allowed to their own heartbeat. She had a new one – it was one that came back. Reed counted more skinny bracelets on her wrists and yeah, he knew. Reed could feel his marijuana high loosening. It was as if a lush oasis had melted and became a dry, harsh wasteland.
Steph's eyes weren't just blue.
They were a kaleidoscope of sky blue, mint green and flecks of amber.
"Don't ever do that shit again," she warned, honestly. She softened only a little, smirking and it made Reed do the same.
"I won't if you won't."
Steph sighed, became quiet and then shrugged, "Whatever. I need a smoke."
Reed felt her press her lips to his cheek and then she was gone.
He never asked her about that kiss on the cheek because she wasn't going to answer or explain. That was okay, for once.
—
When Steph told him, she had applied for this summer program at Memorial and got in, Reed couldn't help but feel deflated. He could remember the first letter of the decision e-mail from the music program. Dear Mr. Hellstrom, thank you for your interest in the Young Voices Program. However, we regret to inform you –
It didn't matter because all it meant that it was a no. It was just the word no, wrapped up in a bunch of fancy words. Almost in his mother's vocabulary which made sense because she would have stopped him from applying. Music was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He could write music lyrics for hours, play with his guitar, sometimes the piano and did find it easier to perform. Reed loved doing covers because he loved interpreting songs that were already out here, but appreciated being able to put actual songs together from start to finish. It wasn't about trying to be deep or making a bunch of words rhyme. Music was a craft, a canvass and the only way for him to experience happiness, anger, and despair at the same time. Now, here he was lost and what the hell was next?
Then he remembered Ms. Ortega and tossed a side glance at his backpack with the assignment inside. Reed had to admit her class was interesting. American Law was irritating, but fascinating. He found himself being able to argue a case in mock court as both prosecution and defense. After his music class, Reed found himself wondering into the library to look through legal statues, the US Constitution, and what the different scenarios were depending the severity of the crime. He sat there when he had to go with his parents just to listen to Mr. Baldwin tell him how this drunk driving charge could affect him legally and what were the pros and cons. It was how he knew he would have had to go to jail had he injured or killed somebody because of his drunk driving. His offence. Because that's what it was.
"If I had killed somebody that night, it's vehicular manslaughter. Class D felony because it's my first offence," he blurted out, surprising his parents and Mr. Baldwin. "A 25 year prison sentence would have been rough. Losing my license for 5 years."
His parents looked at each other while Mr. Baldwin paused in the middle of writing on his yellow legal pad. He looked at Reed while he tried not to focus on how heavy that number was. 25 whole years.
"Wow. Reed, how did you know that?"
Reed glared at his dad, "Because I'm just that stupid, huh?"
"You have no right to snap at your father like that. Nobody at this table called you stupid and implied anything—"
Reed cut her off by snapping at her, "I'm really sorry you don't get to see me in a jump suit. Hide your disappointment better, Victoria!"
"Excuse me? What did you just call me?"
"Your name. I used it or is being up Grandpa's ass making you dense—"
"Hey! Don't speak to your mother that way!"
"You almost killed yourself! That is a fucking fact, Reed! Your cousin is in the ground because someone decided to be reckless with alcohol and a car! I would have thought the Underground fire would have set you straight, but of course it didn't. You could have killed someone else and then you have the audacity to blame Mattie when she was helping you! Don't you ever call me dense!" she screamed back, tears filling her eyes but probably the angriest he made her. She never swore unless truly that way. She quieted down and spoke in that quiet tone that scared him. "We're not done here."
"Okay! Let's take a breath. It's taxing on everyone here!" Mr. Baldwin yelled. Reed found himself being stared at by the lawyer, face serious. "Yes. You're right. The good thing is there was no death or injury, and you're under 21 so it's not on the table. At the risk of having to play referee again, I am curious. How did you know all that?"
He shrugged, over it. Reed was over everything.
"Doesn't matter anymore."
Reed was brought back to the present by Steph tossing a pack of cigarette at him to catch, but it landed in his lap.
You're talented in music. That's a given.
You have raw talent in the legal profession. I can see you in law school.
Nah. He couldn't possibly do the law school thing, much less pass the Wisconsin bar exam.
No. Music wasn't for him and law wouldn't be either.
—
"So, you and Mattie are done?"
Reed shrugged, his second cigarette of the day at his lips. He was going to quit one day. Really, he was. Just not today, or for the foreseeable while. Being a Newman meant he had to say the right things, do the right things, smile and not be the image problem. If Reed was going to mind his manners – Mom's words, not his – and fall in line like the Newman heir he was, he was sure as hell going to smoke because he could do that too. Reed lit up with his favourite black lighter and inhaled. The first shot of nicotine never failed him to put him in a good morning. He blew out smoke upwards as she rested her feet in his lap. Steph leaned over, shaking loose ash from the end of into her ashtray.
"Yeah, I guess. I can freely say her dad's a dick and I don't like him. So, there's that."
Reed poked her foot and she kicked him because she was ticklish, meaning she was indeed normal. He didn't want to talk about Mattie or that night. Maybe she could figure out how to know everything but he couldn't. Not when most things he knew were changing. Reed knew it was stupid to get into the car and drive, but it was equally stupid for his life to change so drastically without any warning from the adults who swore they had his back.
"You and Jensen?"
"It is what it is," Steph answered coolly with a glint in her eye.
"Yup."
Reed took another drag of his cigarette and glanced out of a window.
Snow began to lightly fall.