Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2) Page 5

  My dad pulled back, giving me a once-over, probably to see if I was hurt. He had a full-face moko. The dark green, almost black Māori tattoo curved over his forehead and cheeks, as well as on his nose and chin, giving him one tough motherfucker of a look. Though, that was probably more to do with the canvas than the paint, because I was sure my dad would still look intimidating without it.

  “What did they say?” he asked. “Did they try to scare you? Cos the club’s lawyer will roast ’em alive if they did.”

  I lifted my chin up, pretending to be unfazed for his benefit. “They tried, but didn’t succeed.”

  My dad lowered his head, placing his mouth next to my ear. “Did you do it?” he whispered.

  I jerked away from him, upset he had to ask. “No! You should know that!”

  He glanced at the officer behind the desk. The man was watching us like a hawk, not even trying to hide it. My dad refocused on me. “We’ll talk more once we’re outta this pigsty.” He placed a hand on my back, probably going to steer me towards the exit.

  I stepped away from him and headed for the reception desk. “Gotta get my school bag first,” I said, feeling Phelia’s eyes on me. She went to open her mouth, but instead took a quick step back into Jasper, her eyes widening with fear. I didn’t have to ask what had scared her, or I should say who had, my father’s hands on my shoulders answering that question. Knowing my dad, he was probably glaring at her, doing his best to make her shit her G-string. She irritated him, her constant phone calls to our house driving him even more insane than he already was. Once, after she’d kept calling and hanging up when he answered, he’d ripped the landline cord out of the wall and had thrown the phone clear across the room, smashing it against the opposite wall. To say he had a bad temper was an understatement.

  I stopped in front of the reception desk, my gaze moving to the pork-with-rind standing behind it. “I want my bag,” I said, knowing the officer well. He was a sarcastic bastard, who loved to rile my dad up, often dousing my father’s fiery temper with verbal gasoline, probably wanting to provoke a reaction so he could arrest him.

  The cop dumped my school bag on the counter with a smile.

  “What are you smiling at, pig?” my dad snapped, his fingers digging into my shoulders.

  Officer Grant’s smile widened. “It isn’t a crime to smile, Tane, and come on, call me by my name. After all, I see you more than my wife,” he said, with a joking tone. Though, it wasn’t far from the truth. If cops gave out frequent-flyer points with every visit, me and my dad could have travelled the world twice over with the amount of times we’d been in the precinct.

  “Keep your bloody mouth shut around me, copper,” my dad snapped. “You don’t have a right to say shit after you lot dragged my son in ’ere.”

  “There was no dragging involved. Dante came willingly.”

  “There wuz nuthin’ willing ’bout it! He’s fifteen years old! You lot don’t have a right to bring him in ’ere without me accompanying him.”

  “You know that’s not true, Tane.” Officer Grant quirked an eyebrow. “And he’s been in here more times than you, so I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up.”

  “Cos you arrested my son for murder!”

  “That’s got nothing to do with me, I just work behind the desk.”

  “Then wipe that smug smile offa your face before I—”

  “Dad!” I yelled, cutting him off before he threatened the cop. I spun around, giving him a glare. “You tryna get yourself arrested?”

  He waved a hand at Officer Grant. “I won’t let those arrogant kid bullying cunts get away with dragging you in ’ere.”

  “That’s what the lawyer is for,” I said, hooking my school bag over a shoulder. “So let’s go, before I lose the rent money on bailing you out.”

  His harsh features softened, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s you that usually needs bailing out, not me.”

  “Yeah, riiight,” I said sarcastically, my dad just as bad at getting his arse hauled in by the cops as I was.

  “Brat.” He ruffled my hair affectionately and slung an arm over my shoulders, directing me towards the exit.

  Phelia bolted to my side, shuffling behind me as I stepped outside with my dad, the doorway not wide enough for all three of us to pass through together. I glanced at her as I descended the station’s steps, getting a nervous smile in return. A warm gust of autumn breeze whipped her curly hair back, her brown afro having been chemically tamed.

  My dad retracted his arm from around my shoulders, stopping by Hemi’s souped-up car, his best mate unlocking it with his key remote. It had gold, orange, and red flames blazing across the side panels, the paint job done by my dad.

  “Toddlers in the back,” he teased, taking the front passenger seat.

  I climbed in, with Phelia sliding in next to me. Jasper followed, squashing Phelia hard up against my left side, his bulky body taking up too much space. Phelia leaned her head against my shoulder and took hold of my hand, giving it a squeeze. I refrained from pulling free, now worried she was going to use the alibi to get with me.

  Jasper grunted and grabbed her hand, yanking it out of mine, his face twisted with jealousy.

  “Jasper!” she yelled, trying to retract her hand.

  My dad turned to look at her, peering through the front seats. She stopped trying to free her hand and pressed her face into my arm. He rolled his eyes, then wound down his window, yelling at Jasper’s dad to get in the car. Hemi ignored him, continuing to talk to the lawyer. My dad yelled louder as though Jasper’s dad was deaf.

  Hemi threw a glare at him. “Fuckin’ wait. I’m talkin’ club business.”

  “Nah, do that in your own time,” my dad said, slipping his leather jacket off. “It’s boiling in ’ere.”

  Hemi turned back to the lawyer, giving the impression he was going to ignore my father again. My dad planted his hand on the horn, making all of us jump in our seats. Hemi swore at him and stormed around the side of the car, calling out to the lawyer, “Talk to ya later!” He got into the driver’s side, squeezing his enormous bulk behind the steering wheel. His seat was jammed hard up against my legs, making me wish I wasn’t behind him. He swore at my dad again, calling him an arsehole, which got a grin in return, my dad looking pleased with Hemi’s reaction. Sneering at him, Hemi revved up the V8 engine, then pulled away from the kerb, merging with the traffic.

  My dad turned in his seat to look at me as I wound down my window, the inside of the car as hot as the flames licking its sides. “Lucky you have an alibi, son, cos those pigs would’ve jammed an apple in your mouth and roasted you over that murder wrap. Looks like the li’l ho ain’t a waste of space after all,” he said, glancing at Phelia.

  “Hey!” Jasper yelled. “She ain’t no ho!”

  My dad twisted around to look at him. “Why’re you defending her, Jasper? You after Dante’s sloppy seconds?”

  “Stop insulting Phelia!” Jasper spat, his face reddening. I could see he was working himself up, looking like he was going to say something a lot worse to my dad, which would be a really bad idea.

  “Jasper,” I growled low. “Mouth. Shut.”

  His eyes flicked to me. “Aren’t you even gonna defend her? She just saved your arse from the coppers, and the Devil’s Crew. They would skin you alive if they thought you killed Happy Meal.”

  “But I didn’t kill him or his mother,” I snapped back, glaring over Phelia’s head at him.

  He tensed, his anger quickly seeping out of him, his eyes now filled with guilt.

  Phelia placed a hand on my leg, giving it a squeeze. “I know you didn’t do it. I wouldn’t have given you an alibi if I thought you had.”

  “What the fuck do you mean by thought?” my dad barked at her. “Sounds like the alibi ain’t real.”

  She shrank down.

  “Answer me!”

  She pushed her face into my side again, hiding from him.

  “That’s
cos it ain’t real,” I answered for her. “She lied for me, so quit scaring her.”

  My dad’s eyes widened. “Then, where the hell were you during the murders?”

  “Out the back of the gym, toking.”

  His expression darkened. “You were smoking pot at school?!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be smoking fuckin’ coffin nails.”

  “Don’t gimme lip! If you were in class instead of toking, you wouldn’t have been hauled in by the cops!”

  “If my maths teacher wuzn’t perving at me, I wouldn’t have called her out on it and gotten kicked outta class,” I snapped back.

  My dad jerked his head back. “What?”

  I clamped my mouth shut, realising my slip up.

  “What did you say?” my dad growled low.

  “He said Ms. Farris pervs on him,” Jasper piped up. “Which she totally does. She needs a mop to wipe up the drool.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I hissed at Jasper, scared of my dad going ballistic.

  “Why wuzn’t I told ’bout this?” my dad snapped.

  “It wuzn’t important,” I said.

  “It is fuckin’ important!” His face hardened. “And she ain’t bloody gettin’ away with it.”

  I shook my head. “No, Dad, don’t cause shit. Staring ain’t a crime, and even if she did perv at me, you can’t prove a thing.”

  My dad’s gaze whipped to Phelia. “You in Dante’s maths class?”

  She nodded.

  “Does this teacher stare at Dante?”

  “Yeah, but everyone stares at Dante.”

  “What do ya mean by that?”

  “He’s hot.”

  My dad scowled at her. “How old is this maths teacher?”

  “Dunno. Early thirties at a guess.”

  His eyes widened. “And she’s lookin’ at Dante like this?”

  Jasper cut in, “It’s cos he looks like his bro. Ash’s woman said Ms. Farris used to stare at Ash during maths when he wuz in her class. Tiana said it totally wigged him out.”

  I swore, knowing all hell was going to break loose.

  “Take me to that bloody school!” my dad yelled at Jasper’s dad.

  Hemi pulled over to the centre of the road and did a U-turn.

  “No, Dad,” I said, now panicked. “Staring ain’t touching. It’s just annoying. Leave it be.”

  “But, she does touch you,” Jasper continued, making me want to punch his face in. “She touches your shoulder whenever she looks at your work. She doesn’t do that to anyone else.”

  “You’re purposely making this sound worse than it is, you arsehole!”

  Jasper scowled at me. “Am not! Ash’s missus said Ms. Farris used to touch Ash’s shoulder too and she even offered to tutor him.”

  “Cos he’s useless at maths.”

  “I’m worse at it yet she offers me jack shit. I even hafta repeat the year, but does she care? No. Cos she’d rather ride Rata cock. I reckon if you liked her, you could totally hoe that ho. Ash’s missus also reckons Ms. Farris only offered him those tutor lessons cos the slapper wanted to get into your bro’s pants.”

  “Jasper!” I yelled.

  He finally quit talking, but it was too late. My dad was already smashing a fist into the dashboard, going loco. Jasper’s dad yelled at him to stop, but he hit it again, denting it. Hemi swerved over to the side of the road, parking on a yellow line. He grabbed my dad’s hands, yelling at him to stop again. My dad pulled free and flung the car door open, almost clipping a pedestrian. Hemi went to grab him again, but my dad was out the door before he could blink.

  I jumped out too, running after him. He was waving his arms about and swearing his head off, as well as talking to himself, reminding me of what he was like when he took meth. He continued up the road, not caring how crazy he looked, too caught up in his own world to pay any attention to the one around him. People scooted out of his path, probably fearful for their lives.

  “Please, Dad,” I said, shooting in front of him, my heart thumping like crazy. “Calm down before someone calls the cops.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “She touched Ash! Ash!” I knew his reaction was more to do with my stepfather than Ms. Farris, the sick bastard having raped my brother. “He’s been hurt enough without a lecherous bitch pawing him!” He brought his hands to his head and squatted down. People stared at him as though he’d escaped from the looney bin. I ignored them, only my dad important.

  I lowered myself down too. “She didn’t hurt Ash. Touching,” I placed a hand on his shoulder to make a point, “isn’t the same as what Chaz did,” I said, mentioning my stepfather. “And don’t listen to Jasper, he exaggerates everything.”

  My dad looked up, his dark gaze locking with mine. “While you pretend things don’t happen.”

  I removed my hand from his shoulder. “No, I don’t.”

  He rose up, pulling me along with him. “Yes, you do. And you’ve been acting differently lately. Is it cos of this Farris bitch?”

  I brushed his hand off. “No. Ms. Farris did nuthin’ to me,” unlike Jasper’s auntie.

  “Why are you defending her so strongly?” He grimaced. “Are you fucking her?”

  My eyes widened. “No!”

  “Either way, I’m not lettin’ this go.” He backtracked, heading for the car.

  I ran after him. “I’m telling you the truth. All she did wuz touch my shoulder and eye-fuck—” I cut myself off as my dad spun around to face me, the last word having slipped out, my brain always arriving late to the party.

  I held out my hands. “No, Dad, that came out wrong. I say things without thinking. You know that.”

  “Get in the fuckin’ car!” He yanked his door open, yelling at Hemi, “School. Now!”

  I ran around the side of the car and jumped into the back seat, pushing Phelia into Jasper. “You can’t go to school like this,” I said. “You look psycho. They’ll call the cops on you.”

  “Good!” my dad replied. “I want the pigs there. No one gets away with abusing my sons.” He pulled out his phone and jabbed at the numbers, then placed it to his ear. “Ash,” he said into it. “Did...”

  I closed my eyes as he asked my brother questions about Ms. Farris. Hemi fired up the engine, the trip back to school now filling me with dread.

  5

  Clara

  I stared at my lunch, too worried to eat, what had happened earlier still preying on my mind. Seeing Dante taken away by the police had been hard. I’d wanted to do what Jasper had done—rush to his defence, but I couldn’t, especially if he’d killed Ronald. Even after Jasper’s talk about Dante being innocent, he still had plenty of motive. Yet, did that make him a murderer? I didn’t know, because I didn’t really know him that well. The times we were together were fraught with sexual tension, rather than getting to know one another. And why should I even get to know him? He was just a student... No. He was not just a student, because somewhere along the line, I’d started to care about him. Although the way I’d treated him didn’t show it.

  A chair scraped across the staffroom’s speckled-grey flooring, grabbing my attention. Beverly Torino sat down on the other side of the table. The thirty-something drama teacher looked like she’d lost weight, her normally rounded cheeks having more definition. Not to mention the blue blouse she was wearing looked too big, something that I was sure had been straining against her chest only a month ago. I wondered whether she’d lost the weight on purpose or if she was sick, because she did look a touch unwell. I went to ask how she was, but she started talking before I could open my mouth.

  “I heard what happened with Dante,” she said, pulling her chair closer to the table. “I knew he wasn’t right in the head. But killing another kid?” She shook her head, her expression sad. “I never thought he’d go that far.”

  I jabbed at my salad with my fork, spearing a slice of tomato. “Being arrested doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  She hooked a black ringlet behind her ear. “Happy Meal an
d Dante constantly fought.”

  “Fighting as opposed to killing someone is a massive leap. And what about Ronald’s mother?” I countered, remembering the woman had also been murdered. Something that didn’t feel right, Dante’s own mother having been murdered. “Do you think he’s capable of killing her?”

  Beverly shrugged. “Maybe. He’s both unstable and violent, plus the police wouldn’t have arrested him for nothing. Looks like Paul was right about him ending up in jail.”

  “Like hell!” I snapped, her head of department a bully. “Paul knows nothing about Dante. That boy has so much potential, yet all that man sees is his own prejudices, rather than the talented boy who everyone tramples on.”

  I went to say more, but snapped my mouth shut as the room suddenly went quiet. I glanced around, realising the other teachers were all staring at me, Paul Aston amongst them. The tall redheaded drama teacher glared at me from across the room, his animosity almost corporeal.

  I averted my gaze, my cheeks burning from the attention. “I’m sorry for snapping.” I glanced back up at Beverly, doing my best to blot out everyone else. “I’m just so frustrated at seeing people label that poor boy, putting him down, making it harder for him to get anywhere. Not to mention, I was one of those people, assuming he was nothing but trouble. But after hearing him sing as well as talk about the things he’s passionate about, I feel like we’re the problem, not him.”

  I dropped my gaze again, still feeling intense guilt over what I’d done to him, rather than with now. He’d looked so hurt when I’d pushed him away. And I knew he’d only acted up today because of the cruel brush off I’d given him. I’d caused his reaction, which made me question how many other people had had an effect on his behaviour.

  I continued, “I’m now wondering whether he acts up because of the way people treat him, as well as what he perceives everyone expects from him. And that maybe, if he was put in a good environment, where people didn’t judge him, he could possibly make something of himself, instead of people like Paul assuming he has a one-way ticket to jail stamped on his forehead.”

  Beverly blinked at me. “There might be some truth in that, but regardless, the police still arrested him. And he did attack Happy Meal prior to that.”