Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Priest, The Rebel and The Ordinary ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

I had a dream last night. And the weird thing is, I normally never have dreams that included a church, a priest and a saint. I was sitting in a huge church next to some person praying his or her heart out. They couldn’t stop and all the words sounded gibberish to me. What I remember her/him saying was, ‘protect this woman for her heart is at risk’. Not sure what that was all about, but I take it I’m in danger or something? Suddenly, a priest appears over my shoulder and asks if I would like for him to pray for me. Am I possessed or something? Do I have a demon living inside me? If I really wanted any prayer petitions, then I rather pray for my grandma or something. I don’t even remember the last time I went to church. It could be God telling me to start going to church again. I don’t know.
This morning, I woke up on time. I slam my palm across the surface of my alarm clock irritatingly. My eyes burn heavily as I tried to blink repeatedly in order to regain a steady vision. It was no use, but I got up anyway hoping I wouldn’t run into a hard surface or trip over my own two feet. I grabbed a pair of jeans from my drawers, a plain t-shirt from my closet and stripped off my pajamas. After slipping a pair of black sandals on, I hoped down stairs. Grandma should be taking me to school today. I’m so praying she won’t forget.
In the near office, I overheard mom talking to dad. They were at a low whisper to where I had to press my ear in front of their door. The voices were muffled, but some words made it obvious to what they were discussing about.
“How long would this vacation be, would you say?” Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Around a few months or so.”
“Oh.”
“If you want, mom can come over the weekends to watch over Marianna.”
“Marianne, Jen’.” Dad corrected her. I scoffed at the purposeful error.
“Oh. Right.” I can feel my heart beating with rage and the blood running through my veins boiled wildly. “Starting next Monday, I’ll be packing my belongings.”
“Alright.” And that was the end of the conversation.
Stepping back a few inches lead me running into the last stair step and falling down with a loud thud. Right on time mom and dad came out and feasted their eyes on me. Dad shook his head and walked back to the kitchen. Mom glared down in the direction of my glance and passed right by me trudging her way back to her room probably. No words, no good mornings, no love. That was the routine of my every day school mornings ever since fifth grade.
In an instant, the house phone rang. I got up to answer it despite the astonishment of ever answering the house phone calls anymore.
“Hello?”
“Mari? I’m coming to pick you up sweetheart.” It was grandma.
“But it’s early.” I whined looking at the old and worn out father clock in the corner of the living room. It barely read seven fifteen and I usually won’t go to school unless it’s eight twenty.
“I know. I want to take you out for a good breakfast.” Oh, grandma. You spoil me so much.
“Thank you, grandma, but I don’t feel good today.” With a small chuckle, I wandered my eyes back to the clock.
“What’s wrong, pumpkin?”
I thought back about the vacation mom was talking about and somehow it made me sick to my stomach. “Uh, I woke up kind of nauseous.”
“Oh sugar. Did your mom come home late again?” Grandma knew me to well to know that ‘I didn’t feel good’ translated to ‘I have something bothering me’.
“No. She came really, really early actually.” I said extending my words and emphasizing them with abruptness. Looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening, I reluctantly continued on. “Grandma…I think mom and dad are getting a divorce.”
“Really?” She didn’t sound surprised at the least.
“Yeah.” I replied moving towards the couch to take a seat. “Mom said something about taking a really long vacation. And then she said if dad wanted, you could come over on the weekends to come over and take care of me.”
“Oh.” She murmured.
“I mean, don’t you think that means they’re getting a divorce?”
Grandma heaves a long and difficult breath. “Honey, your mom and dad had already started finalizing their divorce papers already.” Those words were like a bullet through a torn heart. Very, very painful and revolting. “I think I remember your momma saying she’ll be leaving right after the papers get finalized which is around next month probably.”
I didn’t know what feeling was worse; the fact that my parents were finally getting a permanent separation or the fact that they didn’t include me in their problems. “Then–then who’s going to watch over me?”
“They’re not sure yet, sweetie. They want me to take care of you, but I’m hardly here right after you come back from school.”
A sob escaped my throat. “Oh.” I managed to whisper out. I held a hand clamped against my mouth and held back a long sigh full of loud sobs. Good thing grandma couldn’t see the pain falling from eyes in forms of little tear droplets.
“Don’t worry, honey.” Grandma mused, not noticing my little breakdown.
“Okay.” I squeaked out. I cleared my throat and breathed in enough air to be able to talk. “Pick me up–at eight fifteen.” I hiccupped.
“Sure thing, sweetie. See you then.”
I hung up as fast as I could before I could’ve hiccupped another long sob. In all my thoughts and all of those days of hoping with a better connection with my parents, it’s all going down the drain. They didn’t care how much of an effort I put every day before a week ago. They didn’t care that I cared for them in some point of my life when I needed them the most. I am an unloved child. It echoes in my mind repeatedly pounding back and forth in my eardrums. I should’ve been born a son.
Around thirty six minutes later, grandma pulled up on our driveway. I jumped into her car silent and thoughtful. She can already see my blood shot eyes from weeping for a good twenty minutes.
“You okay?” She assures before pulling out of the drive way.
I stared at my two feet for a moment of silence. Should I really go on and express my feelings or be late to school again? I couldn’t risk a chance of another tardy write up. I gave her a weak smile and nodded. “Yeah.”
She stares at me with hope and concern for a few seconds before slowly pulling out of the drive way. Right away I can tell the anguish trapped between her eyes. Her faith and courage she had in me already starting to demolish away. All of my own faith felt deserted from me. I didn’t know how long I could hold my expressions together without having a breakdown of some sort. For now, I pray to God for all the wrongs to go right and for the rights to stay as rights.

Fourth period was ridiculously atrocious. First, I got in trouble for slamming my book loud on the desk by accident. And then the teacher assumed I was cheating on a quiz when I was trying to grab my pencil off of the floor. Afterwards, I was jettisoned from the class because I was being too ‘loud’. I didn’t even say a word back to the teacher. All of the end-of-class-work will be my responsibility to try and keep up for now. Though, Jared promised to help me with the work tomorrow so one of my worries is crossed of my list of stupid things.
It was lunch time and everyone around chattered vividly. I sat back and picked at my salad, not caring if anyone will notice my glum mood. The salad tasted weird and the smell only got to the worse of my pet peeves. Ranch…disgusting, leafy vegetables…even more disgusting.
“What’s with you today, Irving?” One of my friends questioned from a far distance.
“Not much.” I’m surprised I even heard him.
Lynn, who was seated next to me, noticed this quiet and uncomfortable aura. She already knew that if I’m having a bad day, the least that I want is having to be asked questions, or even talked to. That was one thing that I liked about her as a friend. She was humble and obedient to what I instruct in all seriousness.
In a blink of an eye, my milk was snatched away from one of many friends and tossed to one another around the table. That was the only drink I had and I hadn’t even opened it yet.
“C’mon guys, stop.” I whined pathetically. The milk was slung above my head and bounced off my shoulder and into the middle of the crowded aisle. It had already been arduous enough to even get through the aisle with so many backpacks crowding the floor. “My milk.” I whimpered to myself in a small breath. I watched as my milk gets stepped on by a size ten foot of a senior. It squirted all over the floor, including my backpack.
Everyone “Ooh”-ed in a chorus giving each other dignified smirks and high fives. The boisterous and ear popping laughter finally died down once the teacher supervising the cafeteria come over under suspicious circumstances. She forced one of the guys from the table to clean it even though he’d done nothing to participate in my milk’s death. I stayed quiet and watched the kid clean up the mess with three small pieces of thin paper towels. I couldn’t help, but feel just a little sympathetic.
“Dude, I’m so thirsty.” I said facing my body towards Lynn.
She quickly digs in her pocket and pulls out two shiny quarters. “Here ya’ go.” She smiles.
I smile back and sigh in relief. “You’re a life saver.”
I got up to my feet to follow the teacher who saw the whole milk mess and explained to her what had happened. After begging her to buy a drink from the teachers’ lounge, she agrees reluctantly. I skipped down the hallway that led me to the lounge and, amazingly, the door was unlocked. There, two tall vending machines stood one of them being the soda machine. I swear an arch of angels played as a chorus behind me when I took a good look at the soda machine. What? When you’re dreading with thirst, you start hearing things. It’s completely normal. I had the quarters in my sweaty palms and skimmed down the buttons of choices, each being of juicy goodness. What I was really going for was a Dr. Pepper. I inserted the two coins with anticipation and excitement. Everything went well until I found out the machine ate my two coins. I had no soda in return and I was panting like a dog.
“No,” I murmured under my breath. I shook the machine and banged my fists against the sides. I tired pushing on the button that returned your money, but that wasn’t going too well either. “No.” I gave it a small kick and all it did was make a loud noise. “Great.” I muttered, staring at the machine in disbelief.
“Need help?” A voice that I thought I dreamt up asked.
Looking over my shoulder, I could feel my heart swell up. Could it be that he’s actually talking to me and not just robbing me for my lunch money? “S–sure.” I stuttered. My hands trembled slightly for doing so.
Frank Reid lifted his whole arm up and tightened his fists. He takes a good blow to the side of the machine and out came my soda in an instant. He reaches to the slate and hands me the soda. “Nice choice.”
I looked up aware of the comment and found myself chuckling nervously. “Yeah. Good stuff.”
He stood there staring at me with those pair of agonizing and detestable light grey eyes. I can feel all of the hairs on my whole body stand up and I shuddered. “Uh, do you want–would you want some–“
Shaking his head, he steps aside to let me straddle near the door. I walked over to the door, still feeling his glare at the back of my head. Gripping the doorknob and getting ready to exit to all my relief, he said, “You look really familiar, you know?”
I swallowed nervous spit and turned my body facing to his direction, but my hand still holding onto the door knob. “I do.” It wasn’t much of a question. I was kind of agreeing with him, though.
He nods and holds a hand behind his neck, rubbing it I suppose. “What are you, a freshman?”
I shook my head slowly. “Sophomore.”
He nods. “Sorry. You kind of have a face like one.”
What that supposed to be an insult or an uncalled mistake? “How does a freshman look like then?”
He holds his hands up as if he was surrendering. “Yo, I didn’t mean to make it sound rude or something.”
Observing him at his stance, he had on baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, and a new pair of black and white Nike’s. There was nothing to worry about his clothing being explosive or something. “I know.” I answered and felt his glaring eyes relax.
“What’s your name?”
“Marianne.”
He nods and raises a brow. “Frank.” Looking up, his lips curled and he smirked demonically. Oh how much did that make me feel slightly awkward?
I nod casually and followed my eyes back to the door. No good bye or any friendly wave of some sort. Just a simple half nod and getting out of the room as fast as possible was the only way. Something about him made me feel like he wasn’t much of a bad man. In fact, if all still goes well, he hasn’t killed me yet. But, hey, I finally met him. Though, what I was expecting was totally different than what I pictured in my head. He seemed calm and yet annoyed by the fact that I was in the same room as him. It wasn’t like he would have to escort me out of the room before being unknowingly murdered. It was like a, ‘stay-here-and-let’s-get-in-each-others-way-for-the-soda-machin e’ kind of thing. He took it well.
“Hey, guess who I encountered?”
Lynn’s pique smile flashed at me. “Who?”
“Frank Reid. And, look, I’m still alive right now.”
She grins from ear to ear before exploding into fits of laughter. “You are a freaking beast, dude.” She gave me a half high five.
“Thanks.” I held the soda I had in my grip and tossed it into her direction. She caught it instinctively. “That’s for letting me show up in the same room as him at the same time.”
“But I didn’t–“
“Yeah you did.”
She shakes her head with a sheepish grin spreading across her lips. “You’re so lame.”
I chuckle in response and settled back in my chair to grab my sticky backpack and left with my best friend. I hoped to meet Frank sometime in the near future, whenever that is.

I didn’t want to go home just yet. I didn’t want to face the visible family problems occurring in my life at the moment. I wanted to run away from home, go live on my own and never have to worry about seeing two people separate from each other. Not to mention the two people who always treated me like their co-worker.
“Can I come over to your house?” I asked Lynn as we finally walked down the street from the school.
She shakes her head. “Not today. My grandparents are coming over.”
I sighed depressingly. “Fine.” I muttered staring at my worn out flats.
“Why?”
“Family problems.”
She nods. “Oh.”
I gave a slight head shake. I feel like the only person in the world with my parents having these marital problems. It made me feel ashamed that I never gotten any love from my own parents. I know for sure that someone in this stupid world would’ve told me to suck it up and be mature about it. But hearing about my parents divorcing in my head made me feel weak and useless. The topic is something I’d probably won’t let go until their divorce is finally finalized.
“Have you seen the way mom treats me? It’s like I’m that one loser worker at that one office job. And she’s the vice president with her nose in the air and ignoring me–the office loser.”
She lets out a loud laugh. I secretly felt embarrassed. “Why put it that way? It could’ve been something way more than different than how you put it.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but you know…” I was left speechless. I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“I understand you.” She said.
Of course she does. She’s my best friend. She doesn’t have divorcing parents like I do. She doesn’t understand the true feeling of hopelessness.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I finally gave in to asking her once more for an invitation to her house. With a simple wave, she turned around the corner and was out of sight. “Geez.” I sighed. Mom’s car is parked out in the driveway.
I knocked two times and rang the doorbell once. The sound of muffled footsteps echoed throughout the home. Maybe mom isn’t just here by herself. But I was wrong. She opened the door with a short glass of wine in one hand and a newly lit cigarette intertwined between her middle and index finger.
Her mouth forms a straight line as if disappointed. “It’s just you.” She turns back on her heel and walks back into the house.
“Yeah. You too, mom.” I called after her. Settling my stuff next to the coat hangers, my sudden awareness of the houses’ quietness brought me to my attention. I wasn’t startled, but it felt suspicious. “Where’s dad?” I called out to mom, wherever she’s at.
“I don’t know, Marianna.”
I frowned. “Mari-‘anne’, mom.”
“Oops. So sorry.” She wasn’t sorry.
“Whatever.” I replied back sourly. But I know she didn’t hear me.
My feet led me to the kitchen to dig in the food pantry and pull out a box of macaroni and cheese. I mean, it’s the only thing I’ve taught myself how to cook for the past three years. Mom probably isn’t in the mood for Chinese anyway. I know the steps by heart; pull out a pot, pour some water in, turn the stove on high, pour the noodles in and wait until the noodles cook. After that, drain the water out, pour the butter in, mix the noodles, then proceed to put the sauce in, mix some more, and there you have a macaroni and cheese dish. Simple as it sounds.
Grabbing my plate and a water bottle out of the fridge, I took a seat in the dinner table. Eating micro sized bites, my stomach forms knots from being in this home alone and unloved. Eating by myself worsen the thought of it. No one around, my two older brothers don’t even live in the U.S, and my grandma doesn’t want to have to be a part of my parents’ divorce thing and this Frank guy makes me piss myself…in a good way. Such a life I’m living, but no one around for me to explain to them about my personal dilemmas.
The phone rings, and I straddle all the way to the living room to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Marianne?”
“This is her. Who’s calling?”
The male voice on the other line paused. That pause didn’t sound too good. Finally, the voice carefully asked, “Is there a Rodney Irving around?”
Rodney Irving was my dad. “Not at the moment.”
“Oh,” the voice sounded relieved. “May I speak with Jenny then?”
I rolled my eyes to the mention of the name. I cupped the speaker with my hand and shouted, “Mom, phone’s for you!”
For a few seconds, mom’s voice picked up on the other phone. I pushed the ‘call’ button again thus ending my conversation with the stranger. At the same time as walking towards the kitchen, the doorbell rang. I walked three steps backward and jumped in front of the door. Opening the door, it was dad.
“Hey kid,” Dad greets with a tired smile. I step to the side and watch him head upstairs on his own. Poor dad. Having to put up with mom is something I’m almost proud of for him.
Who am I kidding? He’s such a push-over. I guess my whole family is full of snobs and losers. Sounds like my personal high school hell.
Going back to the kitchen, I can hear mom’s thunderous and booming laugh echo from the back of the room. She sounds like she’s having a good chat, which is rarely nowadays. Once I scoop a spoonful of macaroni in my mouth, the food had turned cold from standing around for too long. When the phone rings next time, I’m letting it go to voice message.
I cleaned the plates up after tasting the frozen food. Afterwards, I went upstairs to my room to hang around there for the rest of the evening, like always. Getting there, I slammed the door behind me and secured the lock on it. I hated when my parents used to barge in all the time unexpectedly which made the door locking a habit for me. I sprinted toward my bed and fell face first in my sea of pillows. I breathed in loudly and exhaled out quietly. The sound of silence drowned my ears and I was at peace for now.
The phone rings once more and like I said before, I’m letting it go to voice message. It rang for at least five times until the voice machine finally answered. As I waited for the robotic like machine women to end her little speech before automatically going to the message, I rolled on my back and stared at the blank white ceiling.
Beeeeep!
“Marianne, pick up now, ya’ whore. It’s really important for you to know this!” It was Lynn and she sounded serious.
I lethargically got up to my feet and stumbled all the way to my dresser.
“What?” I plainly replied.
“That Frank guy you’ve liked got caught by the police again.”
“And?”
She scoffed, taken aback by my sultry attitude. “I’m just saying. Geez.”
I snickered. “What did he do?”
“He tried to rob some money from the clerk’s cash register when the clerk wasn’t around. It was at some gas station or something like that.”
I laughed. “How’d he get caught?”
“And check this, when he was stealing the money, no one caught him. By the time he walked out of the place, the police caught him just because he was looking suspicious.”
That was something to think about. “So, you mean they didn’t even suspect him to have robbed the place?”
“Nope. They looked back on the surveillance cameras and all they got was him walking in and then the cameras went black.”
“Black? From what?”
“I don’t know. He probably hacked into the system and shut off every camera that was in the near radius of the gas station.”
“Hm.” I was somewhat impressed. Not by the fact that he robbed the gas station, but the fact that he could’ve gotten away with it. “Ghetto homeboy lives in the hood or what?”
She snorts. “First of, he isn’t ghetto. He’s just your usual punk looking white boy with attractive white boy features. Second, he doesn’t live with anyone.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Then how does he get around for school then?”
“One of his probation officers makes sure he goes to school for at least half of the days.”
“Oh.” I waited a few seconds for me to finally realize this new information. “Wait a second, how did you know?”
“I have my connections.”
I snorted. “Ooh.” That was obviously an excuse for, ‘I-stalked-him-and-found-out-on-my-own’. “To be totally honest, he doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. Despite those death glares and angry expressions, he talks like any calm and normal sixteen year old guy.”
“He’s eighteen, actually.”
“That I did not know.”
“Yep. He was held back during freshman year, which was two years ago, and held back last year. He should’ve been a senior by now.”
“Wow.” I sat at the edge of my bed and looked over at my digital clock. The green glowing numbers were read as: 6:47. “If I see him tomorrow, I’m going to make sure to be as friendly as I can.”
“Hm, good luck with that.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the support.” I remarked sarcastically. “And you know what? You’re going to come along with me to chat him up.”
“…no.”
I sighed. “Yes! You have to, but just in case he blows my head off or something.”
“And why would I be there for? To be your shield?”
“Exactly!”
“Nope. Sorry, Mari, but if you want to befriend him so badly, then you do it on your own.”
“Fine, you little wimp.” I bantered.
“Hey, I’m not going to risk my life for some guy. I want to have a life and I don’t want it to be at the end of a gun to my head.”
“Okay. Let’s stop with this whole ‘he-going-to-shoot-us’ thing. I doubt he’s that dangerous.”
“Dude, he freaking robs places, he punched a teacher last year, and I’m pretty sure he’s been to JJ twenty times. How dangerous would you score that?”
I already knew this conversation wasn’t going to get us anywhere except into an argument.
“Okay, fine.” I remained silent and heard Lynn chew on something on the other line. Was she eating dinner already? I chewed on the tip of my index finger thoughtfully. This Frank dude shouldn’t be as dangerous as he sounds, right? It could be a misunderstanding and Frank might actually be a nice and reserved guy. “Where exactly does this Frank guy live?”
“Would you give it up already?!” She demanded hastily.
I scoffed. “I can’t. He’s just so… captivating… and inviting.”
“You’ve only talked to the guy once. How can you be all over him?”
“I don’t know. His face is so….”
“Attractive?”
“Yeah, but not in a usual way. More like… statuesque facial features.”
She pauses in thought. “I guess you could put it like that.”
“So you agree with me?”
“No. It’s true, but I find him the more dangerous than beautiful.”
“Dangerously beautiful,” I added.
“…Just stop it.”
I laughed. This is why our conversations are about anything not too serious, but hilarious at the same time.
“But no seriously, I’m going to make a move and go for it.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
Shoot. I hadn’t thought of that yet. “…I don’t know yet.”
“Well whatever happens, I hope you good luck and more luck to live.”
“Ha. Thanks.”
We said our final good-byes for the night and hung up. Frank being the conversation starter reminded me to act differently for his reactions or responses. Not different in a way where my friends notice, but enough for him to notice. If he’s just like those ignorant jerks, god forbid, then I’m screwed. But if he isn’t, then I’ll let it go along with my plans. I’m just hoping he doesn’t turn out how I thought he’d be in the first place.