The Pull of Destiny (58 page)

Dad growled,
“Why don’t you shut up with the smartass comments and pay attention?”

So I did,
letting his infuriated roar wash over me as I zoned out, trying to pretend that
I was somewhere else.

That is, until
a loud, piercing, “No, daddy!” cut into dad’s lecture.

He stopped
short in the middle of a sentence, a baffled expression on his face as he
stared down at his feet, where a defiant Faith stood. Her chubby arms were
crossed and a mad look was on her sleepy, cute face. Evidently dad’s loudness
was what had woken her up, as she was still in her PJ’s.

“Sweetie, not
now,” dad said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. Obviously pissed off
because Faith interrupted his stupid sermon. “I’m talking to Luke.”

“No!” Faith
shook her head, her curly dark brown hair flying out behind her. She wrapped
her arms around my legs as I tried to keep my balance and turned her face
towards dad. “You’re gonna yell at him again!”

I fought hard
to keep a smile off of my face at the outraged tone in Faith’s voice.

“Well-,” dad
started, throwing me a look that screamed ‘help me!’

 I shrugged, a
vindictive feeling surging through my body. Maybe if
he’d
spent more
time with her, like he called me out on
not
doing, he’d know how to
defuse the Faith bomb. Crouching till he was on her level, dad put his
reasonable voice on while I snickered quietly behind my hand. Just the image of
a grown man in a suit kneeling to bargain with a 4 year old was ridiculous to
me. Oh, if only his business partners and whisky drinking buddies could see him
now.

“Sweetie, Luke
and I are having a man to man talk,” dad said, trying to sound sensible.

“No! You’re
gonna yell at him! I don’t want you to yell at Luke, he’s sick!” Faith hugged
my knees tighter. “His head hurts and I hear him being sick in the bathroom
every night! Please daddy, please don’t yell at him.”

She gave him a
beseeching look, as I stared shrewdly at her. How the hell did she know that I
threw up almost every night because of my headaches? Wasn’t running water
supposed to stifle the sound?

It was almost
funny to watch dad subsiding, throwing me a look I must have misread as
concern. I had to have misread it, coz dad hasn’t cared about me for years.
Nobody, not CiCi, not Hope, not even Doctor Khan, knew about the almost nightly
vomiting episodes, and with good reason- I didn’t want anyone finding out. It
couldn’t be a good sign, but now Faith had, for better or worse, exposed my
secret. And judging from the look on dad’s face, this wasn’t the last I would
be hearing of this.

“Take some
Tylenol. I’ll book an appointment with Doctor Khan tomorrow,” he growled at me
and stalked out, leaving Faith and I alone in the kitchen.

Blinking
sleepily up at me, Faith asked, “Luke, will medicine really make your head
better?”

“I sure hope
so, princess,” I sighed, picking Faith up and cradling her in my arms. She
rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around my
neck as I carried her to her room.

“Me too, Luke,”
she murmured.

Faith
singlehandedly saved my morning, but my next argument of the day wasn’t so
easily settled. The sad thing is, it shouldn’t have gone down that way at all.

I was at my
locker about an hour before school was out, picking up my hoodie, when all of a
sudden an elbow hit me in the back. My shoulder hit the locker and I whirled
around to see who the blind ass was. I mean, the hallway was empty, for God’s
sakes! Of all the room in the world...

Ahmed stood
right in front of me, the sneer on his face reminding me eerily of my dad.
There was definitely gonna be trouble and I groaned silently. What else could
happen?

“What the
hell’s with you sticking to Shazia?” he asked heatedly, puffing out his chest.
“I believe I already warned you
not
to hit on her.”

I rubbed my
forehead with the heel of my palm. Three Tylenol later and no change. And now
Ahmed was obviously trying to start something. Why couldn’t people just leave
me alone till I had my operation,
then
start with the drama?

Feeling slow, I
gave Ahmed an even look and said, “What are you talking about? When’d I hit on
Shazia?”

“I saw you drop
her off last night,” Ahmed spat. Oh,
right
. Understanding dawned as I
remembered giving Shazia a ride after visiting CiCi. It was such a small deal
that I had pushed it to the back of my mind, but apparently it was a huge issue
to Ahmed. He looked really pissed. “You hugged her!”

Why am I not
surprised that Ahmed was watching as I was in the foyer with Shazia? He was
always hounding her.

“What’s your
problem, dude? Your sister can’t have guy friends hugging her?” I asked,
laughing. “What, are you gonna marry her or something?”

Shifting from
one foot to another, Ahmed looked vaguely uncomfortable with the implications I
was making, but that didn’t stop him from going off on me in a major way.

“She can have
guy friends but you’re not one of them,” he said, shaking his finger in my
face. I stood my ground. I wasn’t scared of Ahmed, not matter how many weights
he lifted. “I don’t want her having anything to do with you, but you just won’t
listen! Stay away from Shazia, or else!”

And now he was
threatening me.

I spread my
hands. “Look, Ahmed, yesterday I was looking out for your sister,” I explained
evenly. “That’s why I gave her a ride home.”

“She’s none of
your concern! I look out for her. Not you, not anyone.”

Raising my
eyebrows in disbelief, I said, “Would you really have preferred it if I’d left
Shazia out in East Harlem?”

Ahmed’s eyes
narrowed suspiciously and I sighed. Why was I even bothering myself with arguing
with this jerk during my study period when I could be sleeping in the library?

“What were you
doing in East Harlem?”

I shook my
head, slamming my locker shut. “Drop it. I won’t bug Shazia anymore, okay? I
won’t even talk to her, if that’s what you want. Now-.”

“You went to
visit your Barrio bitch, didn’t you?” Ahmed asked sharply, his lips twisting in
an evil smile.

I stared at
him, my pulse speeding up from listening to Ahmed talk about CiCi like that.

“Don’t call her
that,” I said quietly.

Ahmed sneered.
“I can call her whatever I want,” he said in a sing-song voice that made me
want to throw him. “You can go visit your little friend whenever you want, but
leave my sister out of it.”

I stared
incredulously at him. “Ahmed, Shazia and CiCi have been friends for years! What
the hell do you have against her?”

Blustering,
Ahmed said, “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t even give a damn
about that girl.”

“Dude. All this
time you talk smack about CiCi it’s because you like her, isn’t it?” I asked as
realization hit. Playground tactics. Of course.

“Shut up.”
Ahmed clenched his fists but I ignored that.

“But you’re
scared to admit it coz you’ve been a dick to her for years and you think she’ll
diss you.” Now it was my turn to smirk in Ahmed’s face and I did, reveling in
the uncomfortable look on his face. “I got news for you, man. She probably
will
diss you.”

Glowering at
me, Ahmed said, “Why the hell would I want that project trash?”

I glowered
back. “Don’t call her that,” I snapped. “You’re trashier than she’ll ever be,
and you know it.”

Ahmed was
trying and succeeding in getting me riled up. I knew what was happening, he was
trying to get me to snap, but I couldn’t stop myself from getting angrier.

“You think your
precious ‘CiCi’ is so perfect, don’t you?” he said tauntingly.

I shrugged,
sticking my hands in my pockets. “I never said she was perfect,” I replied. “I
just don’t see why you hate on her so much. You make a move on her and she
dissed you or something? Is that why you’re so bitter towards her?”

“I could have
her in a millisecond and you know it,” Ahmed said smoothly and confidently.
“She’s been feeling me for years, even before you started talking to her.”

Biting my lip,
I recalled the conversation I had overheard between her, Robyn and Shazia,
talking about the cliché’s they liked. CiCi’s had been best friend’s brother.
Was Ahmed right? Did CiCi really have a crush on this asshole? Despite myself,
a stab of jealousy went through me and I swallowed hard as Ahmed grinned smugly
at me.

“She’s too good
for you,” I said stubbornly.

Ahmed threw
back his head and laughed loudly. “All Celsi can ever be is ghetto trash, not
fit to do anything but perform at skid row strip clubs or become a nickel and
dime hooker as soon as she’s out of high school. If she even graduates, that
is. I’m the son of an oil baron, heir to millions. How the hell is that gutter
skank too good for me?”

“Ahmed, I’m
warning you.”

My hands were
clenched into fists and I’m sorry to say, I was itching to punch Ahmed right in
the nose. But I tried to keep my cool, because the last thing I needed was to
lose my temper and screw up by fighting on school grounds again. Yet every
negative word Ahmed said about CiCi made my blood boil. He knew nothing about
her. What gave him the right to judge her like that?

Ahmed snorted.
“Oh, I’m sorry, all this not tying in with your image of virginal Celsi
Sawyer?” His voice hardened as he continued and I willed myself to remain calm.
Think of the aneurysm. Don’t say or do anything you’ll regret. But I could feel
it was already too late. I was in way too deep. “Listen. You’re wasting your
time thinking you can fix her life. Just bang her then ditch her, that’s it.
She has to get used to it sometime.”

I couldn’t
believe my ears. Who did Ahmed think he was, talking about CiCi like she was
some crack whore off the street? And he thought that
I
was just gonna
use her and it would be perfectly normal? Was that what everyone thought of my
friendship with CiCi? That I just wanted to get into her pants?

“Dude. That’s
your little sister’s best friend you’re talking shit about. And you’re going
around talking behind her back like a bitch. Grow up.”

“You’re just
mad coz she’s a bitch herself,” Ahmed replied snidely. “I know you want a piece
of that Barrio booty; I see how you look at her. Just toss her a couple bucks
so her broke ass family can have a full meal and she’ll do whatever you want.”

“Ahmed, just
shut the hell up, alright?”

I took a step
forward, shoving him away from me. Blood rushed to my ears and my heart beat
quickened. Ahmed chuckled tauntingly, making me even madder.

“You think I’m
kidding? Remember when she helped me with my Socials project?” He wiggled his
eyebrows, smirking. “You should have seen her, touching on me, rubbing on my
pants- the dirty ho wanted me so bad I could smell it and-.”

I saw red.
Before he could finish his sentence I punched, my knuckles connecting with his
face. Ahmed staggered back, a stunned expression on his face as he stared at
me.

“What the hell,
Astor?”

Throwing down
my hoodie, I advanced upon him, pushing him. “What do you think, dumbass? I
warned
you not to talk about CiCi!”

I threw another
punch, ignoring the voice in my head yelling ‘stop!’ as Ahmed swayed on his
feet. He swung blindly at me and I ducked, almost dancing around him. It pains
me to admit that the violence felt good. Taking out all my pent up anger,
aggression and pain on Ahmed was definitely a plus. I mean, come on- he totally
deserved it!

“You wanna go,
buddy? Huh? Or are you all talk?” I asked him, pushing him back again. Without
warning, he swung again, his closed fist hitting my cheek. A bolt of pain
surged through my jaw and it took all the willpower I had not to reach up and
touch my cheek.

Ahmed managed
to croak out, “You’re whipped by that bitch, dude-,” just before I slammed my
fist into his nose. He blinked dazedly, touching his nose immediately and
wincing as he felt the blood drip down his face. “Screw you, Luke.”

I stared after
him as he took off down the hall. So he was running from a fight that he pretty
much encouraged? Didn’t his dad ever tell him to go down swinging? Mine sure
didn’t, but I knew that anyway!

“Later,
coward,” I yelled at his retreating back, grinning to myself as I picked my
hoodie up from the floor and headed to the library after making a quick stop at
the bathroom. Ah, nothing like a good fight to get rid of parental
frustrations...

Unless, of
course, the guy you were fighting decides to tell on you and you find yourself
in the principal’s office with an expulsion letter in your hand. That’s when
you know shit just hit the fan.