Chapter 37: Friends of Vincent so far Bad title is baddddd
He followed that damn girl home. I couldn't believe it. "Where are you taking me?" he asks as they get off the subway.
"To my house." she says.
"Why? I can go to my own house!" he exclaims.
"Because my house is closer and I have ambrosia," she says simply. "Plus I really don't want to face my annoying family alone so I'm bringing you."
"Your family can't be as annoying as my family," he snarks, smiling.
"Wanna bet Scarface?" she asks.
"My sister ran away from home and she's probably gonna think that nothing even happened," he says, rolling his eyes. I want to say something to defend myself but I did feel that way when I was younger.
They turned a block and they came to a stop in front of a blue townhouse. "We're in the Bronx?" Vincent asked, looking around.
She looked him up and down. "Looking at you, rich boy, you're probably from Manhattan, Murray Hill, the rich part." she says, rolling her eyes. "Yea, I live in the Bronx. Grand Concourse to be exact."
She let go of his hand and dug in her book bag that was covered in quirky pins and had sharpie designs on them and pulled out some keys. She fumbled with them and then put them in the key hole and twisted. She rammed the door and it burst open. "I swear this is a fire hazard." she muttered.
He was met by the sounds of people moving about in the house. "Anna! You're home!" a small boy cheered.
"Yea Gian, I'm home," she said, patting his dark black hair.
"Hey little sis!" a tall boy with dark hair said, walking pass her and punching her arm.
"Hey! Brendan!" she yelled, punching him back. "Just because you're a decibel of Hades doesn't mean you're better than me!"
"Don't punch your sister," a voice called from the kitchen.
"Fine Ma!" Brendan yelled back. "Well gotta go and find lost souls, see ya."
"Gods! I hate him!" she seethed as she dragged my brother to the kitchen, dodging random things on the floor. "Just because he's a decibel he thinks he's all high and mighty!"
"How many siblings do you have?" Vincent asked.
"Oh a lot, Ma and Pops bred like rabbits. It's a wonder how Ma stayed so thin," she replied. "I have nine siblings, Heather, Nico, Andrea, Brendan, Brigit, Micah, Maria, Percy, and Gianfranco."
"How can you all fit into this one townhouse?" Max asked, staring at the built of the thing.
"Oh, Heather, Nico, and Andrea are out of the house. Heather's 26 and a writer for the New York Times, Nico's 25 and he's a producer for CNN, and Andrea is 19 and in college studying English Literature and plans on teaching," she said thoughtfully. "Brendan's 16, Brigit and I are 14, we're twins by the way, Micah is 13, Maria is 12 and she's a ginger like Ma, Perce is 10, and Gian is six."
They walked into the large kitchen and a grown woman wearing a flowery skirt. She had light brown hair that had shades of orange in it. Her eyes were bluish-grey and she looked unbelievably pretty. The young woman was about to open her mouth when another girl came from the backyard and into the kitchen.
She looked just like Anna, except she had no piercings except her earrings which were little silver stars. And she wore a dress. A pink dress for a fact and Anna looked disgusted at the sight of that color. "You're such a whore!" she yelled. "Bringing home a boy every single day!"
"Shut up Brigit!" Anna hissed. "Why are you wearing those pink rags you call a dress anyway?"
"Mom, how could you let your daughter, your pride and joy ruin her life like this?" she asked, pointing at her sister.
An older woman gripped a blue coffee mug closer to her body, her red hair was put up into a messy bun and her grey eyes were bright but tired. She wore green hospital scrubs. "Well I'm not usually concerned about her bringing boys home as long as they don't look like druggies or part of a gang. But I'm not sure how I should be concerned about boys who have a large scar going across their face."
"Ma, don't worry!" Anna chirped as she dug into a cupboard and took out lemon bar-like things. "He's just a rich kid from Manhattan, who happens to know about our world! See! The bead necklace!" She smirked at Brigit and she just stomped away swearing under her breath.
The young woman still sat there quietly, studying Vincent's features. "Do you even know his name?" Anna's concerned mother asked, taking Anna by the wrist.
"Yea he's—"
"Jacob Stoll's son," the young woman in the corner, sipping a drink. "Been fascinated with your father's story ever since he committed suicide. I've been interested in the untold family life since I was a little girl."
"Who are you?" Vinny asked.
"Heather Di Angelo, reporter from the New York Times. I'm here to visit my family before I go out to do more work,"
My mouth felt sour and I felt a hate for her, I saw Vincent's face twist up in distaste. People like her tried to pry into our private lives, especially when Dad died suddenly. Mom had to throw us into the car one time when we went grocery shopping because press was trying to ask if their marriage was corrupt or if he was crazy so that was how he got his genius ideas.
I would always hide with Vincent until Mom came and took us away from the 'bad people' we used to call them.
"Well, I guess it's worth your while coming home 'cause now you can ask me about every aspect on my private life," he said bitterly, his voice oozing with sour bitterness. "Oh joy."
Heather's mouth curved in a smile. "Anna, I like this one, he's a keeper." She got up and kissed her mother on the cheeks. "I gotta go, just got a text from the office saying they need me. And Anna, he's okay for a stuck up rich Manhattan boy."
Vincent was about to protest but then the darkness engulfed the pretty lady and then she was gone. "God, I hate it when they shadow travel," Mrs. Di Angelo muttered, grabbing Vincent and sitting him down so she could look at his wounds. "I've still haven't gotten used to it after all these years of being married to Nico."
I was confused at first because she had a son called Nico and she had a father-in-law called Nico. But then I figured it was her husband. I thought it was corny that there was Nico the I, Nico the II, and Nico the III.
"How'd you get these son?" she asked, shoving lemon bars into Vincent's mouth. "Does your mom know about these?"
"She would be freaked out but she wouldn't be alarmed, it's pretty normal for us," Vincent commented, obviously thinking about if she washed her hands or not before stuffing the ambrosia in his mouth. He always apparently thought about that when people handed him food because of his OCD.
Whenever I passed him food I made sure to rub my fingers all over the floor before handing him the food. He would just throw the food at my face but it was worth it seeing the look on his face. I know it was mean but that's how we worked. He would usually spit in my food later though. Like when I was eating an ice cream cone I got to the center and saw a ditch full of spit on it that wasn't my own.
Thanksgivings were just a laugh in our household. Also making our mom disgusted was fun too. One Thanksgiving Mom made Vincent give the thanks so it went like this, "Here on this table is a bounty of food for us to give into gluttony. I would like to thank the countless animals that given their poor little lives to us selfish humans to feast upon their flesh and meat.
"And I would like to thank Demeter for giving us the power to grow these potatoes and yams but then I would like to curse her for making our lives hell and so kill me if she doesn't like what I'm saying. Amen and we made too much food for our whole family plus that Roman and my Scottish friend mooching off us when he doesn't even celebrate this holiday."
"Ma! I saved him!" Anna piped, crossing her arms. "With this!" She began to levitate a potted plant into the air but put it back down once she saw the look that was on her mother's face. "Uh… sorry."
She directed her attention back to Vincent and traced her finger down his scar. "Oh, I tripped down some stairs and cut my face on glass," he lied with a cool air.
"Were you shirtless? It goes past your shirt line!" Mrs. Di Angelo exclaimed, getting up and putting her mug into the sink and washing it.
"It was dark, I didn't see anything. I was getting up from bed to get a glass of water and then I fell down the stairs into some glass," he replied, completely lying.
"Well, I have to go to work, take care Anna and nice to meet you…" she paused. "I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."
"Max." he replied. "Max Stoll."
Mrs. Di Angelo smiled. "You take care too dear," And then she left.
Max and Anna sat in the kitchen in silence.
"You're a liar," she scoffed, twirling a strand of hair with a finger.
He smirked. "You can see right through me sweet cheeks."
Oh young flirting. But anyway, I was then taken from the scene to two boys standing in front of a cork board. "You know, our school is supposed to have a really good soccer team," a boy with dark brown hair said.
A boy with a scar looked at the other boy. "Yea, I know, I'm trying out for varsity," he said.
The other boy looked puzzled. "Yea, but aren't you a freshie? Freshies like us don't make it."
Vinny smiled and wrote his name on a line under the varsity tryout form. "Yea, but who says I won't make it."
The other boy looked at him with his chocolate brown eyes in confusion. But then he smirked. "Like your moxie kid, what's your name?"
"Max Stoll." My brother outstretched his hand and the other boy took it and shook it.
"Bryce Levine, what area are you trying out as? Striker, Mid, D, Keeper?" They began to walk together to the doors of the private school. "I'm more of a D kind of guy,"
"Striker," Vinny said. "I run pretty fast so I can probably out run the other team and get a goal," They flipped on the hoods of their jackets and began to walking to the subway which they had to walk a few blocks for. "I know it's kind of cliché but I think I can do it, but if I can't I'm happy to be mid or D."
I didn't get Vincent. He could teleport yet he took the subway. The freaking subway! Bryce smiled. "Huh, a couple of rich white kids taking the subway," he smirked. "I didn't think anybody else from our school took the subway."
Vinny shrugged. "I take it because I don't want to acknowledge the fact that I am a rich white kid," he said with a small smirk. The Stoll family smirked a lot.
"I do it so my Dad doesn't send a limo to pick me up from school," Bryce replied, looking down at his feet so rain wouldn't land in his eyes. "He's a writer for Broadway musicals and is a big-shot and believes that his family needs to live the good life at all times so he does bullshit like that. Don't get me started with my little sister's ballet recital! He made talent agents come and see if she had talent. She's only seven years old and they told her she had no talent. She wouldn't go to ballet class for two weeks."
"My sister won't come home at all," Vincent replied. "She's been gone for two years, I think."
"Wow, where did she go?" Bryce asked.
Max shrugged. "I don't know, nobody knows." They go down the stairs and they scan their metro card. "She just went. I guess she's doing well for herself because she didn't come back."
"Sounds like a bitch, how old is she?" he asked as they stood by the platform and waited.
"18 going on 19," he replied bitterly. "Didn't think of the consequences of her actions," he made a hand gesture with his hands. "And poof, she's gone."
"Yea, my mom was like that," Bryce said quietly so no other New Yorkers would hear. But frankly I don't see why he didn't want them to; they wouldn't even care since we're all lost in our own worlds in NYC. Well, we were. "One day she just snapped and left us. Mental problems but still, she had pills. She left me when I was 10 and Ciara was two."
The train came and they both boarded. Both stayed silent until, "So, Liverpool did really good this season…"
They both smiled. And I watched as the scene disappeared and then I was taken to Max's room and he was yelling at me, well younger me. A pit suddenly was at my stomach and I saw how much younger me didn't show any remorse. None at all. That me didn't see her mother almost commit suicide, that me didn't see how much her family missed her. I wanted to punch that little girl until she was slack jawed permanently for being so stupid.
Then I was taken to NYSO performance hall and I saw a girl with black hair slip into the hall and she took a seat and waited quietly. I watched from her view as past me pushed Vincent onto stage. She leaned a little forward and her amber orbs for eyes stared at my brother in concern.
Vincent stared out into the crowd nervously and then their eyes met. She gave him a reassuring smile but her eyes told no lie, she was worried about him. He gave her a small Katie-like smile that was nervous and then stood on the podium. He picked up the baton and she closed her eyes and began to listen to the heavenly music that my brother had created when he was a child.
I looked around and I saw my mother, standing shocked by the doorway with Seth. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she whispered, "Oh gods, he's just like his father…" she whispered as she wiped the tears from her face.
I was confused at first but then realized how calm he looked and how beautiful everything was because Dad made everything beautiful without trying with just one little brush stroke.
It might be big headed of me but he was one of those beautiful people you couldn't help falling in love with. Like his entire family, sisters, mother, and father.
Then the music was over and a standing ovation rang across the room and Vincent turned around and his breathing stopped for a bit and he just stood there. Anna got up and started to make her way backstage. Pushing past people and telling them to get out of the way.
"Where do you think you're going missy?" A security guard asked, holding her back from the doors.
"I'm going to see my friend!" she hissed.
"Yea right," he scoffed.
Her eyes darkened. "Your dead mother wouldn't like that," she growled. "She wouldn't want her little Reggieboo to stop a little girl from seeing her friend, wouldn't she? She's rather upset by you not attending her funeral; you wouldn't want me to tell you what she thinks of you now."
He gulped and stepped aside for the young girl to make her way through. She had just heard the last of his statement to past me. "Only cowards commit suicide," he said slowly. "Because they can't live with the reality of fucking life."
He made his way to the exit and he saw Anna and she looked small, usually her personality made her seem a lot taller but this time she seemed to be her full height now. "Max, are you okay?" she asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Why are you so quiet?" he asked, avoiding the subject as he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on.
"Come on man, tell me, are you okay?" she asked again as they started walking out and she made him put on her winter hat so they could get out of there without getting noticed.
He shrugged. "I don't know, but all I know is that I really want to play soccer now,"
She smirked a little bit once they were a few blocks away she yanked her hat off his head and placed it on her own head. She let out a laugh at his hat hair. "To what? Let out all your anger?"
"Maybe, I just like soccer."
They walked alone as snow fell and gathered on their heads and shoulders. "You were brilliant."
"Don't say that," he replied. "I wanted nothing to do with this,"
"No, you were, I didn't even know you could do something so…" she paused to find a word. "So beautiful."
"That coming out of you," he half laughed. "I should be proud of my handy eight year old kid work."
"Eight years old?" she asked. "What are you? A prodigy?"
"I wouldn't call myself that," he says. "Let's not talk about this—wait, how did you find out about this?"
She flashed her iPhone in his face of twitter. "Twitter from the NYT, they tweeted it."
They continued walking in silence. "You were really mad at your sister," she remarked.
"Well she acted like—"
"You have to learn to forgive," she said, looking him in the eyes. "My family has made sure to teach each generation this, for it's our fatal weakness and I think you need to learn this. She's your only blood family you'll ever have once the people before you die. You need to forgive her even when she has done wrong."
He pouted like a stubborn child. "Do I really have to?"
She crossed her arms. "Yes."
The scene faded and I watched as a couple of boys in navy blue soccer jerseys. I watched as a boy whizzed past me, ball in his possession. He passed to another boy with the last name of Hamilton on the back of his jersey.
The boy with the name Stoll on the back of it slide tackled defense and then quickly got back up and ran towards the goal. Hamilton passed to Vincent and Vincent was about to make a goal when another navy jersey clad person with the name Keeler pushed him to the ground and started to punch him.
I wanted to go up to the guy and choke him for hurting my little brother. A whistle was blown and but both boys didn't seem to notice because Vincent began to wrap his thin piano playing fingers around the other boy's throat and trying to get on top.
Vinny directed sparse sunlight into the other boy's eyes for a short period of time and then he got on top and started to punch back. He was completely oblivious to the yelling and the screaming of the boy and the other people around him. The whole time there was a blank expression on his face.
"MAX!" Bryce screamed, trying to get his friend's attention. "STOP!"
Then referees had to pull the two boys apart from each other, both were bloody and they glared with hate. But what scared me was that a total blank was on his face. "To the office!" the coach barked, "Now!"
The referees pushed the two boys towards the school and Bryce jogged up to Max and pulled him towards him and they began to walk together. "Why'd you punch back?" he asked.
Max stared at him blankly. "I don't know. Maybe something in me just snapped,"
Then I was taken to a posh office and an old man with a bald spot was talking to our mother. "Your son hasn't acted out like this at all," he said. "I don't understand he's usually very quiet and not violent at all!"
Mom sighed softly, "I don't understand either. But please, don't expel him; he really needs this so Julliard won't revoke the scholarship, before I didn't even know he was brilliant, and going to Julliard will just make him excel further."
The old man nodded and the scene faded and I saw Max walk into a classroom, looking lost. A ginger boy bumped into him and he stumbled to the side. "Sorry mate," the ginger boy mumbled in a Scottish accent. "New around these parts,"
They were pushed by more college students trying to get in into chairs. "This is classical music, right?" Vincent asked, siting up from being pushed down.
"I hope," the other boy replied. "Blimey if I miss the first class then I will be screwed because then I'll make a habit of it and then it will all turn to shit." The two boys watched as a Professor walked into the room and started to introduce himself as Professor Bolin, and the class which majored in classical music. "Oh, by the way the name is Gavin Fletcher,"
"Max Stoll," Vinny replied. "You look too young to be in college,"
"Scholarship," he replied. "I'm 16, and what about yourself? You look too young to be in Uni too!"
"Oh wow, the two prodigies sitting next to each other," Max muttered.
They both smirked at each other, shifting a little bit in their chairs for a better view of the professor.
I'm soooo sorry guys! I should probably make no excuses since you guys are important but the reason why I haven't updated in such a long time because of a major writers block for this chapter and probably for the next few chapters :P plus school and the final projects because I have a lot of things to do for school and stuff. When the summer starts and schools over I'll probably be writing more! NOW ONTO THE HUNGER GAMES SPIN OFF! HUZZAH! Thanks for reading guys! It means a lot!