The Price of Falling
THE PRICE OF FALLING
Copyright © Melanie Tushmore 2010
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, nor transmitted, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real locales or real people are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, localities or persons, either living or dead, are entirely unintentional.
The Price of Falling
Melanie Tushmore
Contents
Melanie Tushmore has been writing stories since she was a disgruntled teenager. Now as an adult (apparently) and with many helping hands along the way, she has bitten the bullet in order to share her imagination with others. Thank you for being part of it!
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www.melanietushmore.co.uk
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Thank you to everyone who has helped me produce this book!
Ria at
www.digital-powder.co.uk
for my beautiful front cover.
Ben, for all your help.
Tes, my fantastic editor.
My gorgeous models Chris and Viv!
Special thanks to my family, and also to my cats for keeping me company while I write!
I had never really wanted anything before.
By all accounts I knew I was average. I didn't excel at anything or fall behind, I just went through life pretty much doing what was asked of me. Maybe if my family weren't well off I would have wanted more, but I never really thought about it. We were comfortable, we had nice things. We went on holidays and if I passed my grades and did some chores I would be rewarded. I had a neat car, a BMW M3 which my Dad had bought for me.
It was 1988 and I was in my senior year at Ellwood High. My grades were alright, not brilliant but alright. I played a lot of football; the guys that I spent most time with were all on the team. I played football and worked out a lot as there wasn't much else to do. My friends liked to get drunk, go to parties and make out with girls. I didn't really think about not joining in, it just seemed natural to go with the flow of what they wanted.
I was the quiet one of the group. Plain old Mike Miller, not that bright but at least I didn't enjoy beating up the science geeks like my friends seemed to. I hoped that in college I could leave that part of high school behind me.
There was interest from girls and I went along with my friends to parties, had a few beers and watched the girls giggle and flirt with us in a bid to be popular. I saw a few of them on and off, but there wasn’t really anyone I wanted to spend my time with. At least being one of 'the guys' it was normal to not have a steady girlfriend. I didn't fool around quite so bad as my friends did, or upset anyone. I didn't see a need for that.
I had two little sisters, the eldest was a freshman at Ellwood. I gave her driving lessons, sometimes drove her to parties and hung out there to make sure she was OK. I had nowhere else I needed to be. That was my life, nothing special, nothing bad. I was content but I had never really wanted anything. Then one day in February, a new student joined my class.
The weather was starting to get warm again and we were halfway through our senior year. The only thing everyone was talking about was where they were going to college in the fall, but all that I was paying attention to was thinking about football practice. We had a big game coming up in two weeks. I had been concentrating on my game plan so hard that when I first noticed the new student he was already walking past me; a skinny guy with long hair, in ripped jeans and a ripped t-shirt. He sat at the vacant desk to the side of me, about two seats away. Placing the brand new books he'd been given on the desk top and slouching back in his chair, he already looked bored.
I had missed if Mr. Thompson announced his name, and now he was starting his morning lesson in History. I looked to Mr. Thompson and his blackboard, trying to pay attention. I stole glances at the student, interested in something new. I wasn't the only one looking at him either, the girl in front had even turned sideways in her seat, smiling and playing with her hair. This display didn't seem to gain any reaction from him. His expression was unimpressed as he gazed ahead, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
He spent the whole lesson like that. In fact, he didn't talk to many people at school.
The next day, I knew what his name was. Jason Reilly. I couldn't help but look his way every so often during class, he was very striking. His long hair was a dark, natural red, wild and all over the place. There were a few others at school with similar looks, they all hung out behind the bleachers on the field and smoked pot. Eventually Jason started to hang out with them but I noticed he was alone a lot too. He ditched class frequently.
Mr. Thompson, as our form teacher, was always asking him to stay behind. There was something about Jason that told you he'd be trouble. He seemed to have no fear of Mr. Thompson or the other teachers and only suffered class occasionally with the rest of us, when he would look bored or refuse to cooperate.
I wondered why he was so petulant. When he wasn't scowling Jason's face was serene and I couldn’t stop analyzing it. There were some beautiful girls in our classes but Jason was prettier than most of them. I never paid much attention to faces before but on him I noticed sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw line, lips that were full and pink even if they did sneer a lot. I didn't really know why I looked at Jason Reilly so much, it was magnetic. I just thought he was very pretty, in a matter of fact way, and wondered what the strange feeling in my stomach was.
Nothing was different, I thought. I still didn't want anything. I did my work, concentrated on football and working out. We often had practice after school. The football field was epic, considering it wasn't that large a school. When a few of us were practicing late with the light just starting to go, it was my turn to retrieve the balls from the far end of the field. Just ahead on the other side of the high mesh fence was the furthest parking lot, next to Standen road. It was mostly quiet, the main roads were further down. As I was picking up a ball near the fence, trailing the bag behind me, I noticed Jason in the lot. He was with a couple of the pot-head crowd, leaning next to a parked car and smoking. I took my time picking up the balls but there wasn't really anything I could have said to strike up conversation; he was too far away and Jason had made it clear he wasn't interested in talking to anyone in our class.
A car came up by the curb, engine still running. I could see a guy lean over from the window and Jason went over to the car. I watched them speak for about ten seconds before Jason got in, without even saying goodbye to his friends. As it drove away, I could see it was an expensive car. I wondered if it was his Dad. I went back to picking up the footballs, wondering why I thought what I had seen was a little strange.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that I found out why some of the pot-head kids hung around in the far parking lot. I guess I was always a bit slow understanding things. I saw Jason there a few more times when I was at practice late, and he or one of his friends would randomly get picked up by different cars. I didn't realize why until I heard one of my friends Allen, who was kind of a meathead, bragging about how he 'beat up one of the queers'.
