Fucking Gravity

Chapter 13

By the time school rolls arounds again, my anxiety has reached maddening levels. My eyes automatically drift through the hallway, seeking out tall, overly buff, teenagers. Kim is at my side, chattering away about her plans for this upcoming semester, and I hum along despite my distracted thoughts.

"-and I'm pregnant and expecting quadruplets."

My eyebrows furrow, and I look toward my friend. "What?"

"Oh, so you were listening. Just making sure."

"Hold on, go back to the quadruplets."

"Forget the quadruplets, Fay."

Movement, no different than the other bodies shuffling through the hall, catches my eye and draws all my sporadic attention. Leah stands at her locker, looking, for all purposes, like an ordinary high school student as she pulls out books and transfers them into her bag.

I'm moving in her direction before I can overthink it.

"Alright," Kim calls after me, laughter bleeding from her voice, "I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yeah, um, see you later," I manage to remember to respond, and then I'm stopping a foot away from my tentative friend, who looks up as she hears my voice.

"Fay! Hey." She smiles as she spots me, juggling her books.

"Uh, hi." I should have overthought it. Because now that the object of my thoughts is right here in front of me, all my previous questions disappear from my brain, and I don't know what to say. "Exams!" I burst, quickly, before it looks like I had no reason for coming over (this is so stupid, why am I acting like this, again? I was over this!). "How'd they go?"

Her smile turns sheepish. "Straight C's. I know that it's great, considering, but I don't know. I guess I'm just used to higher grades when I actually try."

"We'll just have to double down between now and end of the year exams. You only had a week to study, before winter testing, and managed C's. We have plenty of time to bring them back up all the way."

"You're still willing to tutor me?" she asks, slightly surprised as she closes her locker. It clangs loudly and gets lost in all the other noises of the hallway.

"Well, yeah, if you still want me. To tutor you. If you still want me to tutor you." I wince.

"Are… you okay, Fay," she asks, eyebrows slowly pinching together in concern, and her eyes trail over me from head to toe. I know she's just checking for obvious injury, but it still flusters me.

"Fine," I flap my hand, and almost smack her in the face. "Anyway, how'd the visit with the royals go?"

"It went alright," she says, looking at me wearily now, and I just want to punch myself in the face. That would only bring more concerned looks, though, probably, so I don't do that. I just smile like I don't completely hate myself for acting this way. "They showed up, tried to goad us into fighting, almost did fight, and then the psychic vampire showed up and saved the day. All round, it turned out pretty good. No one died, at least. Well, no one important."

I nod along as if all of this makes perfect sense and doesn't make my head want to explode.

"That's, uh, good, I guess."

Leah laughs, and the sound startles me into staring. "That's a bit of an understatement. We got really lucky."

My heart finally calms under the weight of the sincere relief coming from her.

"It really would have been bad, wouldn't it, if a fight had broken out."

"It would have been an all-out war," she says.

"Well, I'm really glad you're safe," I allow this one admittance. Even that little acknowledgment seems to thrill the she-wolf. The warning bell for classes rings, and I look up. The hallway is quickly being abandoned. "See you in Chemistry," I say, feeling awkward again, but more at peace now that I've talked to her.

"Yup, I'll be there." Her eyes follow me down the hall. I can feel them warming me.

….

Kim won't stop laughing. She's bent double over the door of her mom's 2001 Sonata, and her cheer echoes around the empty shop.

"Shut up," I say, hunched over the engine, and unscrewing the oil cap. I'm pretty sure her mom got an oil change, like, a month ago, but this is Kim's way of supporting me in my new job. Plying me with unneeded work.

Luckily, my dad isn't here at the moment- otherwise he might have a problem with me chatting up a friend (despite my friend being the chatty one). Then again, it's Kim, so maybe not- he's always had a soft spot for her. I wish he had a softer spot for me.

"But it's just so funny! You interacting with your crushes is hilarious."

"Crush, singular, and I'm over it."

"Clearly," she nods agreeably.

"I think you're forgetting that time you tried to talk to Jared and threw up on his shoes. Everyone called you Upchuck for two weeks. You're lucky it didn't stick."

"Hey-" she says sharply, uncurling from her slouch. "I had the flu, and you swore to never mention that I again."

"Supposedly had the flu, and I did no such thing." I straighten up, wiping at my brow as the oil starts to drain into the pan underneath. "You squished my cheeks and said the words for me while I crossed my fingers."

"Blasphemy."

"It's blackmail material, is what it is. And I'm using it now. You mention my 'crush' one more time, and I'm telling Jared that it was you who threw up on him in the seventh grade."

"Okay, fine- but now you can never use the same threat again. It's stricken from the record."

"Nope, it exists as long as I do. I own you."

"So, all I have to do is have you assassinated? Too easy."

"You'd think, but now I have an angry warrior wolf girl who is very protective of me."

"Damn it," she curses. "I really need some blackmail material on you."

I laugh loudly, and it echoes around the garage. As the oil stops draining, I replace the filter with a thoughtless ease, and then ready the new oil.

It didn't take me long at all to remember everything I've learned. I spent a lot of time here, in the garage, when I was younger- and my dad made me learn everything he could think to teach me. Even if I didn't want to learn, I was a riveted student when there was the threat of his fists.

Anything to make daddy happy.

Even now.

The side door slides open, and my laughter immediately cuts off as my dad enters, toting a tool box of scavenged parts.

He pauses just inside the door, taking in Kim and her easy grin and lounging body.

"Hey, Mr. Holt," she smiles, waving at him.

"Hey, there Kim," he smiles and moves further into the space. The sound of him setting down the tool box echoes around the garage. "It's good to see you, but I'm afraid Fay can't hang out right now- she should be working."

"She's a paying customer, dad," I say quickly, gesturing to the open hood. "Oil change."

"Really now, because I changed her mom's oil just a few weeks ago." I tense up at the slight edge his voice takes- his disbelief.

"She's still paying for it, and there's no one else even here." Shut up- I should just shut up.

"Just my way of showing my support, Mr. Holt," Kim excuses, smile starting to slip from her face.

"That's mighty kind of you." My dad's smile stretches wider, as if, if he shows enough teeth, she'll forget anything odd or that's different than their usual pleasant and cheerful meetings. "Well, when you're done, Fay, I've got some parts you can clean."

"Okay, dad. I'm finishing up now."

He disappears into the back office. "That was weird," Kim says.

"I told you he's strict," I say stiffly.

"Yeah, but there wasn't even anyone here. What could he possibly have a bug up his butt about?"

"Beats me." I twist the oil cap back on and lower the hood down. "Well, you're good to go."

"Thanks. Just put it on my mom's tab," she says, climbing in behind the wheel. I roll my eyes. "Oh, and don't be surprised if the other guys stop by for oil changes or with malfunctioning cars."

"Uh huh. You just like adding to my workload, don't you?"

"It's called being supportive," she winks.

"Alright, now get out of here," I wave her off, and she backs out of the wide, open, garage doors.

When I turn around, my dad is in his office doorway, arms crossed. "We'll be talking about this when we get home. You should know better than to have friends come and distract you while you're at work. It's completely unprofessional."

"I didn't ask her to come- she just showed up," I try defending, but I can see his dark eyes flash even from across the room. I swallow a bitter taste and fix my tone. "I know; you're right. I'm sorry, and it won't happen again." I knew working for him would be disastrous.

A tight, resentful, knot twists itself inside my chest, settling there heavily over my heart. I dump the scavenged parts out onto the work table, apathetically watching them scatter and clang about. I feel a rage burn behind my eyes and build in my fists, and I clench them around a rag I pluck up to clean the parts.

It's unfair. It's so unfair that I want to scream and hit and lash out. But that's what he does, and I want nothing to do with him, ever- I don't want him in my thoughts, in my life, in my heart.

Sometimes, I'm convinced I might love him. Even after he beats me so badly that he has to nurse and take care of me- he's so gentle and soft in those moments. I hate him in those instants, but I also don't know what I'd do if he wasn't there to pick me up and carry me to bed, not there to get me ice and painkillers- and I think, sometimes, maybe, he really does think this helps me in some way, and he does it because he loves me.

He did raise me, after all. He's the only parent I've ever known.

And then there is the rest of the time, like now, when I don't think it would be very hard to pick up this pipe wrench next to my foot and slam it into his head over and over until his blood spills across the ground and it's impossible for him to ever hurt me again.

But there is the other part of me, the part that simultaneously exists next to the homicidal one, that knows that I need him.

Maybe not to be my father, or love me, but to pay for my college. That's the only thing he's promised me that I want from him- to escape- to live my life far away from here.

In any instance of my mind, I need him, whether I'm feeling homicidal or delusional- I need him.

So, I do my best to suppress all the rage and anger that only he can bring out of me, and I ignore the pipe wrench an inch from my foot, and I ignore the heartbreak that is always buried underneath it all.

My hands tremble as I work my rag over the blackened parts.


A/N: Please review.

~Silver~