Ch. 4
POV: RYLAND
"Not that one," I say, shaking my head. "Got anything else?"
Archer flinches and whirls around to face me. "Dude. Knock first, please."
"Still not used to having someone else in the house yet?" I lean against his doorframe and cross my arms. I'll never understand why Archer strains himself so much over his clothes. As a kid, he'd pretty much wear the same t-shirt and pants every single day, just in different colors. Clearly, his style hasn't changed.
"Well, yeah. It's been just me for a while." Archer frowns at me, then at the green shirt he's holding up. Reluctantly, he drops it back into his drawer and pulls out the exact same shirt in a light shade of brown. I give him a thumbs-up, and he sighs. "Do you need something?" he asks.
"What, I can't come say good morning to my little brother?"
"You're not programmed for greetings."
"Wow. Everyone’s had an extra dose of rude lately." I roll my eyes, stepping into the room. "Fine. I want to talk."
He looks over at me, creasing his eyebrows. "What's up?"
I square my jaw. "So, like...things. Here. How's it been?"
Archer looks surprised at the question. "You mean...after you left?" His eyes dart down to the ground. "It's been alright. Quieter. A little...lonely at times. Mom's around even less now, so it's really just me in the house most of the time. You saw everyone at school. They've been alright. Things have relatively died down since that summer."
He pauses for a moment, then locks eyes with me. Tan eyes, tan hair, tan shirt. It's like looking at a loaf of bread.
"How has it been...for you? Things, I mean." He pulls the shirt over his head but doesn't break eye contact.
"Gee, Arch. It was boarding school. Take a guess."
Archer bobs his head slightly, biting his lip. I turn to look out his window. What a joke of a question. I'm never telling anyone about the last four years.
"I'm sorry,” he says softly, and I barely catch it. "It was...rough there, wasn't it?"
I don't respond.
"Sorry, sorry. Forget I asked. But, uh, things are pretty much normal now. Zack's got a girlfriend. Her name's Nevaeh, and she's pretty cool. Grace is pretty much the same, just a little taller and a lot louder. You saw Eddie, and he hasn't really changed. And Kori..."
Archer's voice trails off. I raise an eyebrow.
He clears his throat. "She's...grown up, I guess."
"Yeah, kids do that." I turn back around and head for the door, suddenly sick of the conversation. "Where's the bacon? I'm starving."
"What?" I can hear him fall into step behind me. "I-I don't know. We probably don't have any."
"Is that a joke?" I step into the kitchen and throw the refrigerator doors open to inspect for myself. Archer pulls one of the kitchen table chairs out and sits down. "Because it wasn't funny."
"It's not a joke," he insists. "I haven't been grocery shopping in a while, if you haven’t noticed."
He’s right, unfortunately. We’ve been living off cereal since the summer, and I’m officially sick of it.
I stick my head farther into the fridge. "What the hell am I supposed to eat, then? It's always been a tradition to eat a shit ton of bacon after the first month of school."
A tradition I stopped being able to uphold four years ago, but a tradition nonetheless. Silence follows my statement, and I shut the refrigerator doors, turning to face Archer.
He's shaking his head, raking his hand through his hair. Archer spends 90% of his time with his fingers in his hair. It's a bad habit he picked up as a kid, so my guess is that he cut his hair short to try and stop.
After a moment, Archer finally mumbles, "Yeah, alright. I can go get some. I need to pick up some other things anyways."
"You do that."
The house is quieter than I imagined it would be once he leaves. Archer’s been too afraid to leave me alone all summer, so this is a first. He probably thinks I’m gonna run off and blow up some bank the second he turns his back.
I can hear my own footsteps as I walk. Back at boarding school, you couldn't go five steps without running into another dude. There's so much space here, I don't know what to do with myself.441Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxB1YkO7iPQ
As I walk, I can't help looking around. I remember every hallway, every turn, every nook and cranny of this damn house, but I'm still in awe every time I look around and remember that I live here now. I was as a kid, and I still am now, even after being back in town for weeks. Up the spiral stairs to the second floor and take a right, and it's the third door on the left. Taking a breath, I open my bedroom door.
Have you ever come home after being out and found your room messed up? Like some helpful person (Hi, Mom) tried to "clean it", and now you can't find anything? And even if there's nothing missing, you've still got that weird feeling that someone's been through your private shit?
That's how I've felt every time I stepped into my room since I've come back.
I swing the door open wider, walking inside. It looks exactly the same as when I left four years ago, but it feels...different. Almost wrong. Though, the place has never felt right, if I'm being completely honest. It's not really mine.
I stare at the bed for a moment before flopping down onto it, groaning happily against my will.
My bed back at boarding school was dusty and lumpy, and the bed springs would poke me through the bed. Here, my bed's huge. I'm at least 6'3 now, but my feet are still a few feet from the edge. I used to keep a little step stool by the side of the bed when I was younger because I was too small to climb up on my own.
I pull my phone out. We weren't allowed phones before, but we had access to the school library, which had a computer room. That, and my history teacher giving us the weekly news on Mondays, was my only source of outside information. Finally being able to use Instagram on a cell phone seems almost wrong. I've gained an extra 624 followers just from being at school.
Zack and I spoke once after math the other day, and he found my Instagram about 10 minutes later. His page is mainly him and his girlfriend, which doesn't surprise me. Growing up, he was always really forward about wanting to give someone everything in life. Personally, I always thought Zack was sort of goofy looking as a kid, but he's definitely grown into his face over the years, and now he's pulled a good one. They're mostly polar opposite looks-wise, the only similarity being their curly hair. But while hers are soft and tamed, his wild ginger curls look like spaghetti next to hers. His page is basically a Nevaeh fan page, with the occasional appearance from the rest of the group.
There’s some pictures with Kori in them.
I roll over onto my side, facing the window. The sun's streaming in through the curtains. I want to open them.
There were no windows in the dorms at school. None in the classrooms either. Classes started at 6am and ended at 5pm, with an hour lunch break. Dinner at 7. Chores afterwards. Lights out at 8:30. Then you get up the next day and do it all over again.
Based off the timeline of Zack's pictures, Kori dyed the tips of her hair blue after sophomore year. Interesting.
We weren't allowed to have hair dye, either. I'm surprised they didn't give us all buzzcuts. They wanted us to all act the same anyways, so why not look the part? It was all one big, endless, black time loop. Day in and day out. No thoughts of your own, only "yes sir" or "no sir." No outside contact, aside from letters from your family. Not that they ever sent me any.
I mostly stayed out of people's way during my time there. My first year, though, I did have a dude I was close with. We hung out every day, and we told each other about our home lives. Then one day, a group of six older dudes jumped us on the way back from the dining hall and beat the hell out of us. I never saw them coming, but I didn't want them laying a hand on my friend.
Then, one of the dudes told the kid I was with to take a hit at me. If he did, they'd leave him alone.
I remember staring at him in shock. I almost laughed at the ridiculous request, but I didn't once I saw the look in his eyes.
His swing didn't hurt too bad, physically. Mentally and emotionally? It was like being hit by a truck. Afterwards, they let him run off, and then the group of them proceeded to lift me up and throw me in the dining hall dumpster. Not my proudest moment.
Honestly, though, I don't even remember the kid's name. He avoided me after that, and I actually never saw him again after that first year. Maybe he got to go back home.
The kids there weren't even the worse part. I'd argue the adults were crazier. I had this insane math teacher my sophomore year. If someone was talking during class or not doing their work, he'd take them into the closet in the back of the room and sock them in the stomach. And let me tell you, it didn't matter how tough someone said they were. A punch to the gut from a guy three times their size was enough to take even the baddest dudes down. And that was just one teacher. I’ve got stories for days about the adults there.
Over those four years, I pushed myself close to almost nothingness. Closer than I ever have before. I was a shell of myself. A fraction.
But when I felt myself going too far, I'd stop. And I'd hold onto this one thought.
Green eyes. Brown hair.
The fact that she's alive and living life in high school.
I held onto that thought every night. I didn't dare let it slip away. Didn't dare let that hope that I'd see her again fade. She became the center of my universe, and now everything else pretty much just spins around her. And I'd say it's the same for her, but in a different manner.
Because, even four years later, Kori Merrick hates my fucking guts.
And me? Well...
I’m in love with her. Hopelessly in love with her.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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Hee hee hee :)
I've always wanted to do an enemies-to-lovers story, but I never got around to it. So when I thought up this story, I thought, "Wait...why not make one already in love?"
And that's how Ryland was made.
-Zuffy <3
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