Repent (The Disciples Book 3) Read online

  “Oh shit.” My mommy groans and rubs her eyes. As she lunges for me, the sheet falls to the floor. The man says some bad words and slams the door to the bathroom.

  All at once, I’m kicking at her and screaming for my daddy or Edge to help me. “Stop it.” She shakes me. “I’m sorry I forgot about the award thing.” She holds my arm tight and her breath smells bad, like cigarettes and other gross things.

  “It stinks in here.” I try to pull away and go limp hoping she’ll let go. It works and she drops my arm, which hurts. I fall again.

  My mommy straightens her shoulders and tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder. She glances around then looks at me.

  “Go be a good girl and watch TV. Or better yet, go play with your friends.”

  “That’s stupid. You’re stupid,” I yell. Her eyes open wide. “All my friends are at school. I need to go to school, Mommy.”

  She reaches for some sweatpants and pulls on one of my daddy’s T-shirts. “Shut up and let me think.” She twirls around looking at the clock beside the bed.

  “Fuck.” She starts to pull her hair up on top of her head. The toilet flushes and the ugly guy with the beard walks out.

  “She ain’t gonna say shit, right? I didn’t get permission and I can’t have crap between me and the VP,” he snarls as he puts his knife and gun in his pants.

  My mommy lights a weird-smelling cigarette and looks at me with a frown. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered your award.”

  I wave my hand in front of my face trying to cover my nose. “You need to take me.”

  “Christ, fucking mother of the year, Misty. No wonder Shark’s been missing.” He stares down at me as I glare back. I don’t like him. He doesn’t seem nice, and he’s talking mean to my mommy.

  “Gunner…” My mom sets down the cigarette and slithers over to him. “We don’t mention his name.” She closes her eyes, then opens them and says, “It’s just a stupid award that all the kids get.”

  He pats his pockets as if he’s missing something. “I can’t have crap. You said he wouldn’t find out. He’s my fucking VP. You need to keep her”—he points at me—“quiet.”

  They both turn their eyes on me as I try to leave the room. “Dolly, wait.”

  I turn at her sharp voice. She called me Dolly, the only name I respond to. She never uses it because my daddy gave it to me since he says I look like a beautiful doll, not a Dolores. Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I stare at her.

  “I need you to pinky promise you ain’t gonna say anything about seeing Uncle Gunner being here to anyone.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s being a good friend to Mommy. Kind of like Edge and Jason are your friends.” She looks at me expectantly with her big brown eyes, which everyone says I have.

  “I won’t. I pinky promise,” I whisper. A large, wet drop lands on my hand. I’m mad that I’m still crying and wish I could run away.

  “I fucking hope so. Last thing I need is Shark being a dick… well, more of a dick.” He looks over at me, frowning. “Misty, your kid’s crying.”

  “She’s a crybaby. She gets that from her father.” Mommy sits down on the edge of the mattress and laughs.

  He shakes his head then ruffles my dark hair as he walks out of the room.

  I reach up to straighten it—I mean, I just brushed it perfectly. Even put my favorite rainbow barrette in it.

  “You should have gotten your ass up to see your kid get her award. My parents didn’t do that for me and look how I turned out,” he grumbles over his shoulder as he grabs his vest and kicks open the flimsy screen on the front door. It bangs and ricochets back.

  My mom stands and rolls her eyes at me as she yells after him, “It’s kindergarten for fuck’s sake.”

  His bike rumbles to life and I put my hands over my ears. I hate that rumble. Sometimes it makes a loud pop, which scares me.

  I hate being scared; I try hard not to be. But monsters and bad people are always there when I close my eyes. Good thing I have Edge.

  “I’m in first grade, Mommy.” Her eyes swing to mine.

  “What?”

  “First grade.” I stomp my foot. “Why can’t you be normal?” I take off running.

  “Come back here, young lady, or I’ll get the wooden spoon,” she shrieks after me. But like the bearded guy, I swing open the screen door and slam it and then I’m running.

  I know where I need to be. I’ll hide and wait until he comes for me.

  The neighborhood park isn’t far and not very busy, which is why we love it. By we, I mean, me, Edge, Jason, Chuckie, and sometimes others.

  I go to the corner over by the play area and climb up on a stinky dumpster so I can open the gym window. It’s heavy. The latch is broken so Edge and I and sometimes other kids hide out here when we don’t want to be found, like now.

  Slinking in, I hear the window swing shut with a fast whoosh as I leap to the gym floor. I’m small, which is handy when I need to hide or get into places.

  I take off my backpack and open it up with all my treasures and school stuff. I have a book about how to be a real princess. Blinking at the dark gym, only a little bit of sunlight streams in through the windows. Most are filled with dust, so I dig around for my flashlight as I sniff back my tears. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m positive it’s over. I missed it, and I might never get another award again.

  Sighing, I kind of need a second to get used to the stinky feet smell. But it’s better than our house, so I’m okay with it.

  I take out my snack. It’s an apple and some Cheetos. Then I tuck my legs under me making myself as small as I can and wait.

  He’ll come for me; he always knows what to do. He’s my best friend in the whole world and I love him.

  EDGE

  Six years old

  I look around the courtyard, hoping to spot her head of dark hair. Dolly’s so tiny that it sometimes takes a second to see her. I’m frustrated and angry and maybe scared. My face is hot. Where is she?

  My head twists back and forth as I stand on my tiptoes to look.

  “Do you need to use the restroom, Edge?”

  I turn and look into my teacher’s eyes. I straighten my shoulders as I clear my throat. “No.”

  A loud explosion of clapping makes her lose interest in me and smile at the principal. All the parents of the good kids… the normal kids are here. Their loud screams and filming make me want to kick someone in the shin, but then I’d wind up in the principal’s office and would have to take a beating when I get home. Not worth it.

  I look down at my dirty tennis shoes and feel bad. Her mom forgot or maybe worse.

  I hate Dolly’s mom almost as much as I hate my dad.

  “Dolores Dunghart?” My head pops up at her name. The principal calls her name again. People clap but no Dolly, no pretty smile to brighten my day. And before I know what I’m doing, I march up there. “Doll—um Dolores is sick. I’m supposed to pick it up for her,” I tell our principal.

  “Oh.” She squints down at me. “Well, I know you two are in the same gang. Please tell her to bring a note when she returns.”

  If my dad or any of the Disciples heard her call us a gang… well, I’m not sure she’d still be standing.

  We’re not a gang—we’re an MC club and the best one in the world, my dad says.

  I grab the gold certificate and the stupid cheap bubble gum machine and rush back to my class line tossing it into my backpack. This is so bad; Dolly should have been here. All she wanted was for her mom and dad to see her get that dumb award.

  I told her not to get her hopes up. But she’s so good and always tries the hardest. Does the best so her stupid parents will notice her.

  “Edge Daniels, what on earth are you doing?” My teacher Mrs. Temple scowls at me. She hates me because of my dad and the way we are. She doesn’t even try to hide it. If she can be a bitch, she can.

  “Sorry, but I was asked to pick up Dolly’s award, so I did.” I shrug. Her eyes narrow on me and I wis
h she was nicer. She’s like a mean old witch. I mean, she’s got to be close to forty. You know: old and grumpy.

  “Next time you need to pick up an award for someone, I expect a note. Who is this child? And which class is she in?”

  I’m saved by Mr. Garrett who walks by and asks her a question. The assembly is over, and we make our way back to our classroom. I’m a couple doors down from Dolly’s classroom.

  David and Jason are in the big kids’ area. Chuckie is already in middle school, which I guess is a big deal. But all of us go to the same elementary school. Makes it easy for one of the moms to get us since we need to carpool a lot.

  Mrs. Temple starts to tell us that it’s time for science. Though I like science, I need to fake a stomach bug. Dolly needs me more than science.

  I raise my hand, only to get confused when Mrs. Temple ignores me.

  “Umm, Mrs. Temple?” I kind of bend over.

  “Did I call on you, Edge?” she snaps.

  “I don’t feel good at all.” I look at her, but she ignores me and picks up a textbook.

  I guess it’s time for drastic measures. Leaning over my desk as far as I can go, I stick my finger down my throat like I see my dad’s current girlfriend do after every meal. I blow chunks all over the tile floor. It’s super gross.

  Everyone is screaming, including Mrs. Temple, as it runs down the floor causing my classmates to try to get away.

  “Edge!” Mrs. Temple points to the door. “Go to the nurse.”

  That’s all I wanted to hear as I grab for my backpack, almost smiling. Half the kids in my class are either crying or gagging. Toni, who sits next to me, starts to heave and I shut the door in time to hear Mrs. Temple saying, “No, not on the floor. In the trash can.”

  If I wasn’t supposed to be sick, I’d be full-on laughing. This is epic.

  Racing over to the office, I make sure I’m huffing as I ask to see the nurse. The woman who works in the office looks concerned and rushes me right in.

  One hour later, I’m squirming because I need to pee. It adds to my “sickness,” although it’s time for me to get picked up. Where’s my loser dad?

  “Mrs. Douglas, I’m not feeling so good. Can I use the toilet?”

  She glances up, a sad smile on her face. I hate that look. I get it all the time. All of us do. I asked Jason about it, and he said it’s because they feel sorry for us.

  Whatever. Besides my dad being mean, my mom is a stripper who travels. Like all the time. This time, I don’t think she’s coming back. I haven’t seen her in so long I barely remember her.

  “Of course. Let me try your father again. He said he was on his way.” She chews on the end of her pen, which grosses me out because it’s a chewed-up mess.

  I take a quick piss and as I open the nurse’s door, I hear my old man.

  Geez, he’s brought his latest girlfriend. I’m embarrassed. They look so out of place. My dad has bright red hair that’s curly, kind of like Ronald McDonald’s, and a lot of freckles with a long red beard. And he looks scary, probably because he is scary.

  He’s always angry, telling me I’m bad like my mom. He smells, and this time my face turns red.

  “Took you long enough,” he grunts as I walk in.

  “Oh, well yes. Um, he doesn’t have a fever, but he’s been throwing up and—”

  “Let’s go.” My dad jerks my arm causing the poor nurse to gasp, her hand going to her chest.

  “Yes, well… feel better, Edge.”

  The girlfriend is dressed in high heels and a skirt that makes my cheeks burn again. I’m happy it’s not recess. Otherwise, I’d get teased.

  It’s happened before, the way they look and dress. I have to beat anyone up who tries to make fun of me.

  Of course, I always get blamed. Usually, I have to take the belt or my old man’s fists when I get home, depending on his day, mood, and what he’s drinking.

  But today, I need to find Dolly. Judging from the way my dad smells, he’s been drinking, so it will be easy to sneak out.

  “He’s fine, Christ.” My dad drags me and his girlfriend out the door into the bright sunshine and the black Mustang.

  I hop in the back so that the current tramp can have the front. Lying down, I clutch my backpack to my chest. He drives like someone’s chasing him, and of course, he has to stop at the liquor store first without even asking if I’m okay.

  I don’t care. I’m tough, but sometimes I wish he acted like he remembers I’m alive or even in the car.

  Finally, I feel him run over our curb and stop. “Get up. If you got to puke make sure you hit the toilet, or you better clean it up. I got club business, so I’ll be back later.” He says all this as he opens the back seat for me to exit, a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag clutched in his hand. His eyes are bloodshot, so I get out fast. I’d rather not give him any reason to hang around.

  I hightail it into our small house, which I do my best to keep clean. But my dad and his girlfriend have been having a lot of parties, so it looks pretty bad right now. I make my way to the back, where my room is, and shut the door as I hear my dad’s bike start up.

  Running to my window, I look out at our dead yard. There’s nothing but yellow patches of weeds and motorcycle parts littered around. Not that our place is that different from anyone else’s on our block. Everyone knows everyone. Half the neighbors are either part of the Disciples or they know someone who is.

  My dad takes a swig of whatever is in the bag and hands it to his skinny girlfriend. She drinks then gets on his bike as he starts it up. It’s super loud and I can hear it rumble in my room. As he guns it out of the yard and down the street, I smile.

  “Perfect.” He should be gone all night. If Dolly’s upset, I’ll bring her back here. I know she’s not at her house. I know it. She’s at the gym, and I need to go.

  Grabbing my backpack, I dump all my school stuff out on the floor. Except I reach down for the bubble gum machine and the gold certificate and throw on my jacket for Dolly since she gets cold and I don’t. My dad says it’s the Irish in us—we’re hot-blooded. Swinging open the door, I jump back as a rat runs across the floor.

  I swear when I get older, I’ll never live like this. Never.

  Entering our small kitchen, which is covered with dirty dishes and cockroaches, I swing my backpack onto the counter and watch them scatter. I reach for a banana. I’d bring more, but we only have one and some white Wonder bread. It’s likely stale, but who cares? I’m bringing Skippy peanut butter too and a knife and some paper towels. I look around for some water, but all I can find scattered around are crusted-over food and tons of plates. I can’t even tell what’s on them. It also looks like my dad and his friends decided to use the windowpane as an ashtray; there are so many cigarettes butts on it.

  “I hate this place.” I jump on a cockroach. Swinging my backpack over a shoulder, I start to run, not even looking back to see if the door shut.

  Nobody would be stupid enough to go inside. My dad is the Road Captain for the Disciples, so he gets respect and no one bothers us.

  I don’t respect him though, and he hates me since I look like my mom instead of him.

  I guess. At least that’s what he’s always complaining about: My hair is not red enough. It’s a much darker shade of red than his. I have blue eyes like my mom. He has brown, and on and on.

  One of our neighbors, Sunny, is sitting outside. He’s an old-timer who used to be in with the founders. He’s been sick for a while. I’m surprised he’s able to come out. His white, shriveled legs are turning red from the sun. I cough so that I don’t completely start laughing. He’s in his underwear.

  “Where you going, boy?” he rasps. He has some creepy tube attached to his nostrils. He still smokes though.

  “Nowhere.” I pull out my bike. It’s the one thing I wanted for Christmas and was shocked when I got it.

  “Fuse know you going out?”

  “My dad’s busy. You need anything?” I look into
his yellow eyes. He looks so small sitting in the lawn chair next to God knows what in his yard—it looks like dirt and years of dog poop.

  “Nah, you take care of yourself, Edge. You and that Dolly girl, I see great things for you two.”

  My eyes narrow as I hold up my hands to get a better look at him. “Huh? I don’t understand.”

  He lays his long, thin face back, a strand of his silver hair sticking to his forehead. “You will.” He slowly raises his head as if it pains him. “One day, when I’m long gone, you might remember this… me. You don’t need a lot, but you need her. Don’t be an ass and do what I did.” His eyes are leaking tears, which always makes me squirm and look around for my dad or any Disciples. Crying is for babies.

  If any of them see it, they could beat the crap out of me.

  It’s happened before, once when I fell off my skateboard and broke my wrist. Bulldozer smacked me so hard I scraped my face on the sidewalk. I stopped crying though, even when they took me to the hospital to get it fixed.

  I hop on my bike and grasp the rubber handlebars. They’re warm. I’m almost seven so I don’t ever cry anymore. I don’t need to. Real men don’t. So, poor Sunny needs to stop weeping.

  “Sunny, I’ve got to go.” Geez, I hope he stops crying. A punch from someone would definitely kill him.

  “You do right, boy. You’re like your momma. A sadder soul I never did meet. You remember that. You ain’t your dad. You don’t ever be your dad.”

  I nod. “I’m not my dad or my mom. Just me.” That must make him happy because he smiles. Most all his teeth are gone and the rest are yellow.

  “Go inside. I think the sun is burning you.” I take off, pedaling as fast as I can.

  “The sun can’t hurt Sunny. The sun makes me…” I don’t hear any more of his crazy ramblings as I’m pedaling as fast as I can to get down our street. Stopping at the crosswalk, I push the button. So many cars whiz by, and at last, I take a breath. I did it. I’m away from everyone, on my way to find the one person who gets me.

  The green walk signal alerts me that it’s time to cross. I pedal hard, moving faster. The park is not far. A couple of turns and I’m riding my bike behind the smelly black garbage bin. Then I hop on top of it, open the window, and drop myself inside the gym.