Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Camp Rock.
Getting straight to the story...
Chapter One:
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I hadn't gone to school today.
All I could hear in my head was my drunken uncle's slurring words from the night before.
"You'rre nuthin budda worthlezz lil' bitch, y'know that?"
Until they had sunk in and finally become true.
Worthless.
Worthless.
I was worthless.
There wasn't any point in going to school.
Just then, whilst I was in the middle of my own personal pity party, I heard my phone vibrate on my bedside drawers. I pulled back my blankets just enough to reach my arm out and pull my phone back in with me. I checked the screen; it was from Nate.
'Busy?' it said. I chuckled a little. If you knew Nate you would know he wasn't exactly one for words.
But I just sighed, placing my phone back on top of my drawers. I didn't really feel like it tonight, and my arm felt too sore to move. Nate would understand. We had this thing where we never got upset if the other didn't text back; we both knew we had our own separate stuff going on.
But then I heard my uncles footstep's thumping up the stairs, his growling voice calling my name, and I cowered, slipping out of my bed and shimmying my window open. I knew it meant I would get it twice as bad later, but right now, all I could think of was hiding safely away in Nate's room. I crawled onto the branch that stuck out right near my window, and then along the wooden plank Nate's dad had nailed between the tree and Nate's window. I still remember the day when he had showed us. We were eight, and we had thought it was the coolest invention in history, even though it was nothing but a spare piece of timber and a few rusted nails. He had chuckled at us, stating that we were practically joined at the hip anyway, so he thought he'd may as well make it easier for us. Plus he wanted to save himself from opening the door every ten minutes, as we switched excitedly from his room to mine. Oh, and then there was the time when Nate had attempted to jump from his window to the tree to get to my window after having a bad dream, and had ended up falling fifteen feet to the ground.
I wondered vaguely if Nate's dad had ever thought about the use of this plank once adolescence came into it. Maybe he had planned on removing it once that time had come.
Nate's dad had died just before Nate had turned thirteen. That was a little over three years ago now.
But more on that later.
I slipped in through Nate's window (he had already left it open for me), seeing him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. At the sound of my feet hitting the ground, he looked up, his face lighting up a little when he saw me.
He stood up and slowly made his way over to me, stopping only inches away. His eyes dropped to the brand new bruise on my collar bone, and his eyes seemed to cloud with sorrow.
"Are you okay?" he asked me, just like he does every time.
I nodded, looking down at my feet. I felt his finger under my chin, and he pulled my face up so I was looking at him directly in the eyes. And he was staring at me, really staring. And it was starting to freak me out. Not in the 'holy crap, why is this freak staring at me?' kind of way, but in the 'wow, this is really different' kind of way. So used to it, was I, the usual routine we went through each night.
"Are you sure?" he asked. That was new, too.
"Yeah," I nodded, giving him a half smile.
He kept staring for a moment longer, and then finally he mumbled, "Kay," and turned back to sit on the edge of his bed, resuming his former position.
I made my way over and sat down next to him. I was worried, he was acting so different. "Are you okay?" I asked, breaking the routine myself.
I waited as he was silent, until he finally pulled his head out of his hands, looking me in the eyes. His were glistening a little. "No," he answered truthfully.
I wanted to ask him why. Though I think I could tell you what it was relating to, or who in this case, I didn't know the specifics. We never knew the specifics, though my bruises gave me away a little more than him.
Suddenly the door opened, and we looked up to find Mikey standing at the door in his flannel pyjama's.
Oh yeah, meet the only other reason Nate still lives with his druggo mom, and why he home schools at night so that he can work all day.
Mikey, Nate's six year old brother.
After Nate's dad had died, Nate had practically taken over the role as guardian. Wait, what am I saying? He had completely taken over the role as guardian in every single sense of the word; taking Mikey to and from school, helping him with homework, cooking for him, playing with him, you name it. And somehow he manages to make time for school and work as well.
Meanwhile, Nate's mom sits at home getting high, or spending most of the money Nate earns buying drugs.
I know it's not a good thing to say you hate somebody. But I do, I really do hate her with every fibre of my being. Nate was slowly killing himself, and she didn't care one bit.
Mikey's eyes lit up, and he shot over to me, hugging me excitedly. "Mitchie!"
I let out a small laugh, hugging him back. He was the cutest thing you ever saw, like a minnie little Nate. "Hi, Mikey," I smile.
But Nate pulled Mikey to him, a playfully serious look in his eyes. "And what are you still doing up, mister?"
Mikey grinned at his big brother. "Can you read to me, I can't read some of the big words," he pleaded with an angelic smile.
"Maybe tomorrow night, okay, bud?" he said, ruffling Mikey's minnie Nate hair-do. "Our friend's here," he nodded towards me.
"Pleeaase!" Mikey begged.
"I don't mind," I spoke up suddenly, surprising even myself.
Nate turned to me, and apparently I had caught him by surprise as well.
"Awesome!" Mikey exclaimed, jumping off the bed and grabbing both of our hands excitedly. "We can go to my room and Mitchie can choose which book!"
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I don't know why, but sitting beside Mikey on his bed, listening as Nate read to him had been the most wonderful feeling in the world. Everything had seemed so right, and it had made me feel like somehow everything was going to be okay.
Nate closed the book he had now finished reading. "Okay, little man, that's the third book now, time for bed."
"Aw, but Mitchie wants you to read another one, don't you, Mitchie?" he turned to me, a pleading look in his eyes.
"Mikey..." Nate warned, and I wanted to laugh out loud, because he sounded like such a dad.
"Okay, fine," he pretended to sulk, sinking more into his covers.
Nate rolled his eyes, smiling. "Night," he said, turning to put the book away on the shelf.
"No, you have to say it properly," Mikey ordered him.
Nate glanced at me, blushing a little, and then mumbled, "Goodnight, Mickey mouse." He nudged him playfully on the chin with his fist and went to walk away, but Mikey caught his arm, pulling Nate down to whisper something in his ear.
Nate glanced at me, looking embarrassed, and then pulled away from Mikey, shaking his head. "Goodnight, Mikey," he said in that fatherly-warning tone again.
"G'night, Mitchie," Mikey yawned, holding his arms out to me. I hugged him gently, pushing his hair away from his face afterwards.
"Goodnight, tyke," I winked playfully, and he smiled back at me.
We left Mikey's room, Nate turning off the light and closing the door as we left, and made our way to his.
Once I had stepped into his room, I turned to face him as he closed the door. And we simply stood staring at each other, the room silent and more awkward than it had ever been.
He stepped towards me slowly, closing the distance a little, and I filled my lungs, opening my mouth to say something, anything to break the silence.
Though we should be so used to the silence by now.
I still wanted to ask him what it was that had happened, and I could feel the words forming on my tongue. But all I could do to break the silence was to talk to him in the only way I knew how, and it only took me a second to close the final bit of distance between us and pull his lips down to mine.
He pushed me back towards his bed, and everything returned to the way it always was.
---
Once we were done, we got dressed, I stood by his window, and we stared at each other for a moment; a silent 'goodbye', 'I hope you'll be okay', and 'I guess we'll be seeing each other again soon'.
Then I slipped out his window like every other time, contemplating the two things I had learnt about Nate that night.
One: He would someday, be to somebody, the most wonderful father you could ever imagine.
And, two: Whatever it was that had happened with his mom; it had been bad.
I crawled into my window, hoping, praying, my uncle was now asleep.
AN: Okay, so halfway through writing this I thought something to myself and just randomly burst out laughing. Lucky no one was around. But anyway, I thought, this story is like the benjamin button of relationships lol, sex first, talking last.
Yeah, I know, it's not that funny, but I'm pretty lame so I thought it was.
Anyway, pleease, I'm like Mikey style begging you to review!! :D