A/N: I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I'm basically writing this as part of JulNoWriMo (I'm half way through writing chapter 6 right, now, like two of these chapters have literally been written over the course of a day, which is bizarre but great for me, I blame energy drinks) and the response I've been getting has made me delighted to say the least, but I was thinking rather than throwing new chapters at you every day/when I've finished them, I might just start posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday. What do you guys think?
I didn't go to school the next day. I wasn't ill, I just didn't want to face it, which was often the case and was why my attendance was terrible, so I plastered a queasy expression onto my face, messed up my hair even more and meandered into my mum's room, feeding her a story of how I had a terrible stomach ache and by 12pm, Mick was giving me a ride to my dad's – I spent my time going between houses, which was a hassle, but it kept the peace.
When he pulled up in front of the two-story terraced house I climbed out the passenger's seat, wordlessly as I often did, pulling my backpack with me before practically sprinting to the house. The door was open, meaning Beppe must've been home because my dad would've been working.
My brother's name wasn't actually Beppe, it was Giuseppe – he'd been named after my dad's dad, but it was just easier to shorten it. Beppe looked a lot more like my dad than I did, with darker skin and brown eyes – people often refused to believe we were siblings for the only thing making us look alike was the fact that we had the same hair colour and similar noses, but people don't tend to inspect your nose upon meeting you.
"Beppe?" I called, shutting the door behind me.
I got no answer so I made my way up the stairs and to his bedroom, dumping my bag in the hallway outside his room before walking in, finding my brother in an unconscious heap on his bed.
"Beppe! Wake up!" I snorted, poking his shoulder.
"Mmm, go to school," he groaned into his pillow.
"I would, but I'm deathly ill," I drawled sarcastically "And it's not my fault that you were up all night charming easy girls."
"But it's so much fun, the way they swoon over the accent," he said, putting on a fake, but very convincing Italian accent.
My brother had learned from a young age that with his dark looks, if he pretended he knew more than five words in Italian (all of which were curse words we'd learnt from our relatives in Italy) and put on an accent, he could get almost any girl he wanted, and he always used it to his advantage. I usually found it funny, especially when said girls were still around when I woke up the next morning and I'd either play along and put on a horribly fake Italian accent or ruin his fun completely by talking normally and asking him why he wasn't.
I snorted "What, and the nicknames you use when you forget their real names? La mia stella! Amore mio!"
"Why are you waking me up?" he laughed, opening one eye.
"I need a favour."
"Of course you do."
"Oh, come on, Beppe!"
"What is it, if it will let me sleep?" he asked.
"I'm sneaking out tomorrow night for a few hours, I need your help."
"Where are you going?"
"Out with Frasier, I won't be long and I'll be safe."
"Fine. Now out. I'm tired."
The next two school days were no better. It always ended the same for me, I'd get home either in a foul mood or in tears. Not out of hurt, out of frustration and just generally, being fed up of being fed up. Lately it was usually tears, though. They had totally defeated me and ground me down. I hated it.
I sighed, shaking the matter out of my thoughts as I pulled on a pair of black ripped jeans and a dark purple tank top along with some trainers, a hoodie and a beanie.
I grabbed the tickets from my bed-side table, shoving them into my pocket before going to make sure Beppe was going to keep his promise.
"Dad! We're going to the cinema!" Beppe called from the hallway.
"It's ten o'clock at night!"
"It was the only time we could get tickets," I lied "They stop showing it after tonight, please, can we go?"
My dad was never one to say no to his kids, something which made me feel bad about lying to him, but if I told him "I'm going to a freak show, I got tickets from a man with a huge scar on his face, he was handing them out at the metro station when it got dark." This would be one occasion where he would say no.
He sighed but nodded, waving a hand, allowing us to leave.
"You're lucky I'm a good big brother, you know that," Beppe snorted as we climbed into his car, I would be meeting Frasier outside where the show was playing – an old abandoned office building which I couldn't remember ever seeing in use.
"No, I'm lucky you're scared that if you don't do this, I'll tell all of your girlfriends that you don't actually speak Italian before you get them into your bed," I shrugged "But thank you."
He snorted, slowly shaking his head as the car pulled up to the offices.
"Why on Earth are you meeting her here?" he frowned, surveying the apparently empty building.
I waved a hand dismissively and went to climb out of the car but he locked the door before I could.
"Monica, tell me."
His tone left no room for argument and I sighed.
"There's a freak show. We got tickets and it's going on in there."
"Why in there?" he frowned.
"Scare factor, I'm assuming. Now let me out."
He sighed reluctantly, unlocking the car door.
"Call me when it ends!"
"Will do, thanks, Beppe."
"Any time," he said sarcastically before driving away and I turned to Frasier who had been watching the exchange with amusement.
"Was that Giuseppe?" she grinned.
"Yes, it was Beppe, no, you can't flirt with him."
"Why not? I'd let you flirt with my brother!"
"...Your brother is four," I laughed.
She grinned and spoke again.
"I said I'd let you, I didn't say you'd want to. Anyways, let's just go in, I want to see this Larten Crepsley," she said, making her way towards the building.
I rolled her eyes, but followed her as she pulled open the old, heavy doors with some difficulty. It was pitch black and silent.
"Maybe it was a scam," I suggested with a frown "That was a waste of £30."
"If it was scam there'd be other people."
"Yeah, but-," I was cut off by a deep voice behind us, causing us both to jump and swear, Frasier in English and I in Italian.
We turned around to see, literally the tallest man I think I'd ever witnessed.
"Apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said in a ridiculously low voice, his black eyes gleaming.
"I am Hibernius Tall, owner of the Cirque Du Freak. Aren't you a little young to be here?"
"We're fifteen," I frowned "We're not exactly kids."
He smiled "Of course, Monica. This way."
I froze as he turned around, staring wide-eyed at Frasier, but soon we snapped back to our senses and began to follow him.
The show was...Well, it was indescribable. It definitely wasn't a scam, or even a rip off, surprisingly. I winced as I received a sharp jab to the ribs when the familiar orange haired man walked on stage.
"Is that him?" Frasier whispered to me.
I nodded as he began to speak.
"...Hrm...Nah. This one's all yours," she shrugged after surveying him slowly, causing me to give a small, quiet laugh as I shook my head at her.
It was only after the show's, quite spectacular, finale that my good mood vanished at the thought of school the next day and then going to my mum's afterwards. I sighed as I leant against the tree outside of the building, waiting for Beppe to show up, wishing I could just stay and ruin away with the Cirque. A childish wish, I know, but anything was better than the hellhole I knew as school. Anything was better than arguing with my mum every other day, awkward conversations with my dad, watching my brother throw his life away doing nothing but drinking and messing around with girls. Anything was better than watch my dad struggle to make ends meet whilst insisting I do nothing to help.
I gritted my teeth. I'd get through this. I just needed to ignore the idiots at school...Yeah, I'd deal with one problem at a time.
"Beppe? Where've you been?" I frowned, climbing into the car as I noticed his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.
"Monica...Is it true that Ian's little brother and his friends have been bothering you at school?"
I froze and felt my face pale. Shit. Ian was Beppe's best friend but I didn't count on him finding out and telling my brother. He watched my expression change and then spoke again.
"Why didn't you tell me? Is this why you've been so miserable? I mean, porca troi, Monica! I'm your big brother! It's my job to handle shit like this!"
"There really isn't any need to go bi-lingual, Beppe..."
"This isn't funny. I'm sorting this out tonight," he growled, starting up the car and driving home.
Once we pulled up in front of the house, he unlocked the doors but didn't turn off the engine our get out.
"Go to bed, Monica, I need to do some stuff."
"Giuseppe, no!"
"Monica, go in the house. Now."
His tone was stern and left no room for argument, and when Beppe used that tone with you, you didn't argue.
I bit my lip and slipped out of the car, I heard him speed off the second I opened the front door and stepped inside. I didn't hear him come in before I fell into a fitful sleep.
For a moment at school the next day I foolishly hoped that Beppe hadn't done anything, I mean, nothing was different. Then, at lunch time, everything went wrong, starting from the second Allie ran up to me.
"Monica!" she breathed "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Uh, sure, Allie," I frowned, standing as we left the other two "What's up?"
"You need to go home. Like, now," she said seriously "Go to the nurse and say you feel sick or something."
"I can't do that, she doesn't send me home any more because of my attendance, why?" I frowned "What's wrong?"
"Chris and his gang are going to jump you after school."
My heart dropped. What the hell had Giuseppe done?
Every city has that one school that everybody is dying to get into – the one with pages and pages of waiting lists. The one with flawless discipline that would kick anybody out who caused trouble, because for every bad kid, there'd be five good kids wanting in. Then they have that one school that's known by all of the other's as "the rough one". The one that people joke about. The one that either had very little discipline or if they did have discipline, it didn't work because nobody cared about detention or getting suspended, or even expelled, but the school would always to be too scared to expel anybody because they needed the students.
Mine? It was the rough one. And at a rough school, you didn't piss off the people who would be more than willing you kick your teeth in.
"It's fine," I breathed, but I could feel my heart thudding in my chest "I'll, uh, I'll just stay late in the art department."
"Mon, you know if you do that they'll either just corner you there or wait. It's not exactly hard for them to sit and get pissed outside the gates while they wait for you."
I ran a shaky hand through my hair...What could I do?
"No, don't get yourself worked up over it, I'll stay with you late after school and walk with you – they probably won't do anything if you're not alone."
"Allie, you sure? They might just start it with you," I shook my head.
"There're bigger, scarier things than Chris and his little group of idiots."
Allie may have been right, but those bigger and scarier things seldom bothered with school girls. It happened fast, at least. We stayed after school until the cleaners literally demanded that we leave so we did, making our way slowly out of the school to see nobody. I sighed in relief, but didn't let go of my fears yet. There was still a walk to the metro station, after all.
When we got there to see nobody hanging around, I truly let go of my worries. Maybe they were actually all talk? Maybe Beppe had frightened them too much for them to actually do something.
"See, they're full of shit," Allie grinned "Anyways, my mum's picking me up 'round the corner, so I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Sure thing," I smiled with a nod as she turned and left, her short black hair staying comically still whilst her long fringe bounced as she walked.
With a sigh of relief I turned and made my way to the ticket machine, reaching into my pocket to get my change when I felt a pair of hands grab me by the tops of my arms and wrench me away, spinning me round to face Chris and two of his friends. Shit.
It was over in seconds – not like the movies. There wasn't a long speech or a bunch of taunting and then ten minutes straight of punching and kicking, no. He brought his fist up in a right hook, bringing it sharply across my face and then didn't hesitate to yank my head down, just as he brought his knee up.
I hissed as his friend let go of me, stumbling to stay upright at the shock of it all.
"We were losing interest in you, Monica," he laughed "But you had to go and grass us up. See you tomorrow."
I froze at the words "See you tomorrow."
That was when I made my decision.
A/N: Also, if any of you have Tumblr my url is Skiffle- (just because links tend not to work on here), I'll post stuff relating to the story & if chapters are going to be late etc. etc.