Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) (19 page)

“No,” I grabbed my bag off the ground and
headed for the house. “It’s allergies.”

The sound of his heavy footsteps followed
me, the thump, thump, thump mirroring my heartbeat. He wasn’t going to let up,
and I really wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with him—or anyone, right
now.

Trying to think of an excuse to get rid of
him, I unlocked my front door, too distracted to stop the dogs from barrelling
past me. I went to follow them inside, yelling out as Jasper shoved me into the
lounge.

He slammed the door shut behind us, his
expression dead serious. “Why the hell are those pricks turning up to your
house? And why’re ya bein’ an arsehole to me today?”

“I’m always an arsehole,” I said, turning
to the passageway. “So, fuck off.”

He followed me down it. “Don’t you tell me
to fuck off!”

I opened my bedroom door.

“Don’t ignore me either!” he snapped,
grabbing my arm.

I jerked free and entered my room. “Give
it up, Jasper, I’m not in the mood. Just go home. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.”

I went to close my door. He shoved it, knocking
the edge into me. I yelled out, bringing a hand to my head. “What the fuck,
Jasper!”

Looking unrepentant, he stepped inside my
room. “Start talking. I want answers.”

I glared at him. “While I want you to
piss
off.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not
happening until you tell me why you’ve been acting like a right cunt.”

“I need space.”

“
I need space
,” he mimicked,
putting on a girl’s voice. “You sound like a whiny li’l bitch.”

“Why can’t you leave me alone!”

Not taking his eyes off me, he kicked the
door shut with his heel. “Cos I want answers. And I want them
now
.”

Cursing under my breath, I turned away
from him, grimacing as my eyes landed on my bed—where I’d fucked his auntie. The
vile memory bubbled up, the images burnt into my retinas, making me want to
chunder. Which was why I needed to force myself to forget. The drugs under my
floorboards would help, as well as my fucked up mind.

“Is this ’bout Happy Meal showing up?”
Jasper asked. “Is he why you’re bein’ a cunt?”

Ignoring him, I continued to stare at my bed.
Goose bumps rose across my skin, making it crawl. His auntie had told me to
close my eyes and imagine someone else, not even caring that I had to think
about another woman to stay hard.

Jasper placed a hand on my shoulder. “I
think we needa finish this thing with Happy Meal.”

I shook my head. “He’s not worth the
trouble. He’s all talk and no balls,” I said, not caring about the prick. The coward
wasn’t even worth a second thought, especially after he’d hightailed it when
Jasper had showed.

“He’s not all talk. He attacked you—more
than once. I also saw him cock his fingers at you and the dogs—”

“It wuz an empty threat to keep me away
from his skank-ho girlfriend.”

“You’re underestimating the bastard.”

“I’ve known him for more than two years
now,” I said, finally turning to face Jasper. “And all he’s done is spout off
shit and gimme a few bruises. Jesus, if he followed through on half the things
he’d said, I would be pushing up daisies long ago.”

“This is different. He loves Phelia. Guys
do crazy shit for hot pussy. If she were mine, I’d cap any guy who tried to
take her from me. Not you of course, bros before hoes, but you get what I mean.”

“No, cos I don’t get why you all think
she’s so great.”

“Only cos you’ve been spoilt for choice. What
I wouldn’t give to look like you.”

I grimaced, knowing he’d take his words
back if he knew what my looks really got me.

“And no one needs to know,” Jasper added.

“Know what?”

“I’ll make sure things are covered.”

“What are you on about?” I asked, Jasper
sometimes hard to understand, especially when he jumped topics without warning.

Jasper’s face hardened. “Capping Happy
Meal.”

My eyes widened. “Are you fuckin’ kidding
me?”

He shook his head.

“No!” I yelled. “You’re not killing him.”

Jasper grimaced. “Why the hell not? He’ll
keep comin’ after you. I’ll also be doin’ the world a huge favour.”

“It doesn’t matter; you still can’t kill
him.”

“It
does
matter. You needa get it
into your thick head that he’ll keep comin’ after you, until one day he snaps
and kills you. And I’m
not
lettin’ that happen.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, I’m not, and I don’t understand why
you can’t see how dangerous he is.”

“Cos there are worse things in the world
than him.”

“Like what?”

Your auntie
.

“Like what?” he repeated, looking
frustrated with me.

“None of your goddamned business.”

“It is my biz!” Jasper snapped. “We’re
wh
ā
nau
. You’re like a
brother to me, and I thought I wuz like one to you too.”

I exhaled loudly, today growing worse by
the minute. “You
are
my bro, even more than Ash, which is why you can’t
kill Happy Meal. Cos if you do, it won’t be jail you needa worry ’bout, it’s his
dad. If you get your fat arse caught, he’ll have you tortured and killed.”

“
If
I get caught.”

“No,
when
you get caught, and if
you’re so concerned ’bout Happy Meal harassing me, I’ll talk to my cousin. Hunter
can get someone to scare him off. His connections are more powerful than Happy
Meal’s, so chill, you don’t hafta kill the prick. There are other ways to get
him offa my back.”

Jasper’s dark eyebrows pulled together.
“You sure Hunter can help? Cos if Happy Meal so much as looks at you wrong—”

“It’ll be fine! I’ll phone Hunter as soon
as you leave.”

He pointed a finger at me. “I’ll check
with him if you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Cos that’s all you bloody do.”

“I don’t lie to you.”

“You do so. Anyway, I gotta split, got
shit to do.” He yanked opened my bedroom door and headed down the passage,
shouting, “If you ignore me again, I’ll smash your favourite guitar over Happy
Meal’s head.” The front door slammed.

I peeked through the blinds, spotting him lumbering
towards the gate. My gaze shifted to his two-storey house, where he lived with
his auntie and father. I turned around and bobbed down, removing a floorboard
to get some sleeping pills. I swallowed them down, then crawled into bed,
wanting Jasper’s auntie dead instead of Happy Meal.

18

CLARA

I entered the school hall and sat down
next to Harry Grey a few rows from the stage.

He nodded a hello. “Thank you for agreeing
to help out, Clara,” he said, his posh English accent so different from
Markus’s working-class Cockney one. He also looked posh, his attire much more
formal than any of the other teachers. Today, he was dressed in smart grey
pants the same colour as his hair, and a matching vest layered over the top of
his white dress-shirt. I smiled at the bowtie he was wearing, thinking he was
the only man I knew who could get away with it without looking pompous or silly.
Instead, he looked dashing, a silver fox with a cheeky gleam in his pale blue
eyes.

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied, looking
forward to the auditions, the students yet to arrive. “I love
Othello
.
It’s my favourite Shakespearean play.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “You’re a woman after
my own heart.” He placed a hand on his chest, the slight flutter of his
fingertips and his tone giving off a gay vibe. I pushed the thought aside, my
observation obviously wrong, since he was looking at me with far too much interest
to be gay. Or maybe he was bi. Either way, I was sure he could charm the pants
off both men and women alike, his looks and demeanour very attractive.

He continued, “It’s my favourite too. Ever
since the students performed it a few years back, I’ve been trying to cajole
Paul into agreeing to a musical version, but he kept refusing, so I went to the
principal.” He smiled shyly, looking a little ashamed over what he’d done, but no
doubt pleased with the end result. “Principal Sao instantly agreed. Like me, he
feels the adapted version will resonate with the students much more than the
original. Unfortunately, Paul’s furious. He thinks I went behind his back,
which, in all truth, I did. It’s just ... it was the only way I could make it
happen. He has a habit of overriding everything I propose, which is why I asked
for your help.” He gave me a good-natured nudge with his elbow. “Though, don’t
make me regret it like I did with Dante.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry. I think it’s a
great idea.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I thought if
I’d asked you instead of Beverly, I’d have some chance of not being overridden.
She
always
sides with Paul. He would’ve gotten her to help bully me into
changing it back to the original.”

My lips thinned out, thinking the word
bully
was an appropriate description for Paul Aston. I’d seen him bail up a number of
male students, being quite intimidating. Though, he hadn’t been as rough on
them as he’d been with Dante. My mind drifted to Dante, wondering why he’d gotten
so upset yesterday. It had bothered me ever since. Although he’d said it wasn’t
to do with me, I couldn’t shake the feeling it was. Or maybe it was to do with
his poem. Either way, I was worried about him, the boy a puzzling enigma.

“I also thought you might back me up since
you don’t like Paul,” Harry said, cutting through my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, having lost the flow of
our conversation.

“I said, I thought you’d also back me up
since you don’t like Paul.”

I placed a hand on my chest in mock
indignation. “You thought I’d let personal differences interfere with my work?”
I gasped dramatically.

He laughed. “A man can only hope.”

I tsked at him good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t
do that, but you still have my support. Again, I absolutely adore the idea of
Othello
being performed as a musical.”

“And if you didn’t, I would’ve laid on the
charm until I got what I wanted,” he said, overemphasising his posh accent.

I laughed, thinking he was delightful. I
could see why he was a popular teacher. “And here I was thinking you were
already laying on the charm to win me over to the musical side, Mr. Grey.”

“I wasn’t even trying,” he smiled flirtatiously.
“And why are you calling me
Mr. Grey
? All the pretty ladies call me
Harry.”

I smiled back, unable to help myself. He definitely
liked women, the man extremely flirtatious, just better at it than his horrid friend.
The back door creaked open, capturing my attention. I looked over my shoulder, spotting
the man in question entering the hall. Paul lumbered down the aisle on my left,
glaring at me. I wondered whether he’d known I was helping out, or whether Harry
had failed to tell him.

“What are
you
doing here?” he grunted,
clearing that up instantly.

Harry answered for me. “She’s going to be
helping with the musical, and what happened to your eye?”

Paul touched his left eye, which was
swollen and badly bruised. “Had a disagreement with a parent.”

“Who?”

“An animal who should be in jail, so quit
asking and tell me why she’s here.”

“To help us, obviously.”

“She can’t help us. This is a drama production,
not some book club reading,” he said disdainfully. “Beverly should be here, not
this woman.”

“There’s no need to be so rude to Clara,”
Harry replied curtly, his pale blue eyes narrowing at his friend. “And if you
have an issue, don’t take it out on Clara. Isaac’s the one who suggested her,”
he added, referring to Principal Sao.

Paul crossed his arms over his beefy
chest. “Ye know I won’t let this slide.”

“And you know it’s too late to do anything
once Isaac’s made up his mind.”

Paul grunted something unintelligible, suggesting
he already knew that. He slid into the seat next to me, knocking his hip against
mine. I shifted towards Harry, not wanting to be anywhere near the brute.
Again, I wondered how Beverly could like him so much.

Paul glanced past me. “I think ye’re
making a mistake turning
Othello
into a musical, Harry. It’s going to be
impossible to find a whole cast of kids that can act and sing as well as fit
the roles.”

“I disagree. I have a number of your
students in my class who can sing really well.”

“Who?”

“Dante Rata for one.”

“I don’t teach that hooligan anymore.
After his drunken debacle, Isaac shifted him to Beverly’s class. And the only
acting he ever does is acting up.”

Harry smirked, looking like he agreed,
just in a fond way. “True, but he has the most sublime voice.” His attention
shifted to me. “Please tell me you’ve managed to talk him into coming, because
he just grunted something unintelligible when I asked him.”

“I think so. I dared him to prove he could
sing.”

He waggled his fingers with approval. “That
was a clever move, especially since that boy doesn’t like being called a
chicken. He’s all show. Knock his pride and he’ll come running.”

Paul snorted derisively. “He’s not worth
bothering with, and even if he does show, he probably won’t turn up to the rehearsals.
Not to forget he causes fights.” He gave me an accusatory look.

I grimaced at him, thinking
he’d
caused
the fight by mishandling Dante. He returned my grimace, but averted his gaze
first, making me smile inwardly at my small victory.

“He still should try out,” Harry stated.
“No one in this school can sing as good as that boy. He’ll have you captivated
by the end of his audition.”

“Again, that’s if the delinquent even
shows,” Paul muttered. “The only thing he’s obliged to show up to is a court
hearing.”

“
Paul
,” Harry snapped, now looking
annoyed. “Until you’ve walked in his shoes, don’t assume anything about that
poor boy.”

“I’m not assuming; he
is
a
delinquent.”

“If you knew what I knew, you wouldn’t be
so ready to condemn him,” Harry said, making me wonder whether he’d been told the
full story too.

The back doors opened, cutting off their
argument. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing an influx of students. They were
carrying numbered papers that a senior was handing out at the hall’s entrance.
I smiled as I spotted Dante amongst them, relieved he’d shown.

Dante sat down a few rows back with his
friends, the boys talking between themselves. The other kids filed into the seats
around them, their chatter excited.

“Number one,” I called out loudly, needing
to get the auditions finished by the end of lunchtime. “Please take the stage.”

A girl with bright orange hair and a face
full of freckles walked past us. She climbed the stairs to the stage, stopping
in the middle of it.

“Hello, I’m Annabelle Aston,” she said with
a thick Scottish accent.

Paul sat up straighter, looking like a
proud father. Though, I hadn’t realised he had a kid. I filed the information
away, curious enough to ask Beverly about it.

Annabelle started singing a Britney Spears
song, her accent disappearing in an instant. The students were allowed to
choose whatever they liked, just without backup music, since we didn’t have the
time to waste on changing tracks. Harry had also stated in his email that he
wanted to hear the kids sing without accompaniment, which was a hard task for
any singer, something I knew, since I’d sung at school, musicals being another
passion of mine.

The girl finished the song, sounding
worthy of a part, but probably not the lead female. She bowed, then descended the
stairs, walking past us with a smile. Behind me, Dante’s friends clapped and
hooted, the only ones being overly loud with their applause.

Paul looked across me at Harry. “My niece
is great, isn’t she?” he said, answering my curiosity. “I think she’d be
perfect for Desdemona.”

Harry replied with a “Mmmm,” not sounding
so keen on the idea.

Then Phelia headed for the stage. She’d had
her afro straightened, the thick curtain of brown hair reaching halfway down
her back. She stopped in the centre of the stage, her eyes locking onto someone
in the audience. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Dante making a cock-sucking
motion at her.

“Dante!” I snapped.

He pursed his lips at me, blowing me a
kiss, his sullenness from the day before nowhere in sight. I scowled at him in
response, not amused with what he was doing. Although I’d apologised over what
had happened in the toilets, I wasn’t going to put up with any more of his
nonsense.

I turned back to face the stage, waiting
for Phelia to sing, and to my surprise she had a great voice. Her rendition of
Spanish
Guitar
was lovely as well as unexpected, although her appearance did sort
of remind me of a young Toni Braxton. But despite that, she was overdoing her
performance. She was tipping back her head every so often, as well as twisting
this way and that, looking like she was trying to imitate the singer’s moves. I
smiled a little, finding it amusing.

Harry leaned towards me. “Don’t you think
she’d be perfect for the part of Desdemona?”

Before I could reply with a yes, Paul
butted in, “No, she’s brown.”

Harry scowled. “What’s that got to do with
anything?”

Paul rolled his eyes as though his friend
was an imbecile. “Desdemona’s white. The role calls for it.”

“I don’t care; she’s the best female
singer in the school. She deserves the part.”

“My niece is much better.”

Harry snorted. “Are you deaf? It’s like
saying Britney Spears has a better voice than Christina Aguilera. It’s absurd.”

Paul’s expression darkened. “Are ye
insulting my niece’s voice?”

“No, I’m simply saying Phelia’s better.”

“Well, I don’t agree, plus Annabelle would
be perfect for the role.”

“Only because you’re her uncle.”

“No, because she fits Desdemona’s
profile.”

“Then, you’re a racist.”

Paul glowered at him. “I am not! The part
requires a white actress.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then, what aboot the line where Iago says
to Desdemona’s father aboot
‘an old black ram is tupping your white ewe’
?
It’s a reference to the black Othello eloping with the man’s
white
daughter, Desdemona.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “I already
told you we’re using the
adapted
musical,
not
the original text.”

“Desdemona is still white and
Othello
shouldn’t
be relegated to ridiculous show tunes.”

“Too bad for you Isaac agreed with me. And
we can adapt the role for Phelia, like we’ll do for Dante in regards to
Othello’s part.”

“That’s if he even gets the part, which,
as I said, I’m not keen on.”

I lifted a hand to stop the argument,
their bickering not only wasting time, but looking bad in front of the
students, who were now sniggering behind us. “Let’s at least finish the girls’ auditions
before we discuss who gets what,” I said.

Both of them conceded begrudgingly.

“Good,” I breathed out, again wondering
how they could be friends with the way they argued. “We’ll wait and see if
there’s anyone better for the part.”