The Secret Behind His Contempt

Anyway, a recap, because I'm sure a lot of you might forget what this story's about:

April Hale is a real weird girl. She has a neighbor whom she often eavesdrop to, and her neighbor is none other the school's bad boy, Ryder Black. April and Ryder never really interact, before then an incident brought them to each other's attention, and Ryder asked her to stay in her room when his father threw him out.

Now, the thing is, when Ryder was staying over, he borrowed Quentin's shirt. Quentin is April's twin brother and he's very anal about fashion, and a few weeks later, when Quentin sees Ryder parading around with his shirt, he's infuriated. April decides to save the day by telling Ryder about the situation, but this leads Ryder to kidnap her to the mall.

They bonded on the mall, and April discovers that Ryder actually

1. Have a lot of 'old' friends

2. Actually knows her name

Things start to look better on their relationship... or is it, really?

The Secret Behind His Contempt

There were a lot of things that could make my soul jump away from my body. I'm a scaredy-cat, and it's not that hard to surprise the living poo out of me.

But then when I saw Quentin and his gank sneaking on the same hallways that me and Ryder were threading, I could literally feel my soul getting sucked to hell and back and heaven and back.

"Did you just swallow your own vomit?" Ryder was looking at me with squinting eyes.

I was about to describe my brief celestial experience, but then Quentin noticed us first.

Unfortunately.

"April?" he whisper-shouted. "Ryder?!" he shout-whispered.

'Hell and Back and Heaven and Back part 2'.

As I regained my consciousness of my mundane existence, they were in a pseudo screaming-whispering match.

You see, our school had a pretty strict rules about people who skip classes. Anyone who was caught loitering around the halls without the aid of the sacred yellow notes from the teachers would be punished in the worst way possible: a private session with our principal. Nobody wanted to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Mr. Trask about their absence in education.

"What the hell are you doing with my sister, fuckface?!" Quentin was baring his teeth.

"It's none of your business cocksucker!" Ryder bared his teeth, too.

For two people who hated each other with burning passion, they sure love to communicate their hatred with words concerning copulation.

"Q, don't be too loud," much to my dismay, Andrew's blonde hair poked from behind.

"Come here, Ap," Quentin grabbed my wrist and then tug me towards him. "You can't hang with this freak of nature."

I thought everything would be done by then, but as Quentin was turning around, Ryder's hand grabbed onto his shoulder.

Ryder sniffed once before he sprouted. "You skipped class to smoke?"

"Yeah, so?" my brother, unaware of the dangerous change in Ryder's eyes, broke into a smug smile.

"How long have you been smoking?"

Some of the guys behind Quentin's back snickered, and Quentin did, too. "What are you, my mother?"

"Just answer me."

"Been doing it for a year, bro. Just get off my back and start smoking too, if you're so interested in it.."

Ryder's response was swift and quick, in a form of a knuckle sandwich right into my brother's jawbone.

Quentin splattered all over the floor, his fingers grazing against the newly formed bruise under his jaw. There was shock within his eyes, and then intimidation, before then he looked at his friends and anger settled in. He got up, and in an action-movie style, spit towards the floor ( I checked to see if there was blood in it, but it was actually only spit and nothing else).

Just before my brother and his posse jumped onto the lone rider, Ryder pushed me out of the way.

As I watched the boys slammed againts one another and put all their might into what seemed like an animal's stampede, I heard a voice that screamed loud enough to break someone's ears.

"BOYS. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE NOW!"

Mr. Trask.

And that's not the worst part.

"WHO SAYS YOU CAN GO, APREEL! YOU'RE COMING, TOO!"

Holy Chewie's (1) nuts.

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All my life, I'd never thought that this would have happened.

I could totally hear the sound of my all inner neutrons clashing against each other in fear. But then again, who wouldn't be trembling when forced to sit across our fear-inducing principal, Mr. Trask? He was bald and broad shouldered and looked perpetually grumpy. And even though he was sitting, his frame still towered over me, leaving me under the shadows of his egg-shaped head.

"Any of you, good students could enlighten me on what just happened on the hallways?" Mr. Trask began.

I was sitting in the middle of Quentin and Ryder, and I could actually hear both of them gulp.

"Nothing, Sir," Ryder rasped.

"Nothing your ass!" Quentin wasn't about to let Ryder go. "This guy punched me fi-" right before he could finish the sentence, Ryder kicked his feet from under the desk.

This enraged Quentin even more. "Can you see him kicking my fee-"

This time, although I was no fan of violence, I was the one who kicked him.

My brother looked at me in disbelief, but I just quietly shook my head. I tried to take advantage of our twin status and sent him an elaborate message via shared air: 'Ryder has enough trouble with the school already. Please help him out just this once. I know that your jaw hurts and your pride hurts worse, but please please pretty please, Dear Brother!!!'.

Quentin scrunched his face. I didn't think he got the message.

"Whatever. We weren't fighting, Sir. We're just doing the tradition."

Both Ryder and I gaped at Quentin.

Mr. Trask, unfortunately, wasn't easily convinced. "And what tradition is that, Mr. Hale?"

"Well, you see. Ryder here is kind of a wimp, so me and the other guys tried to recruit him to, you know, join the football." Quentin's lie came out smoothly from his mouth. "Anyway, I personally didn't think that he'd actually make it to the actual team, but it doesn't hurt to try, and jumping on him is part of our ritual, Sir. "

Mr. Trask seemed like he was processing. The school's football was quite renowned, so getting good players was kind of a top priority even with the teachers. "You're saying that seven boys stacked on top of each other is the ritual for the new player?"

Gosh. This wasn't going to end well. Even I had a hard time believeing that.

Quentin shrugged. "Pretty much it, yeah."

"That's kind of homoerotic isn't it?"

Good point.

Quentin's face reddened a little bit, but it didn't hinder him at all. "No. Footbal requires a lot of body contact, Sir. Some of them quite harsh. Ryder here needs to be roughen up."

Mr. Trask looked onto Ryder. "Since when do you have interest in joining school activities?"

Ryder was way too stunned to answer.

Quentin slapped Ryder's back, it was a hard slap, but for some reason it was convincing enough. "He'll start next week."

"Football?" Ryder hissed. "Seriously?"

"Apreel," Mr. Trask turned to me. It was such a rare occasion for me to look at him from such short distance. His presence scared the hell out of me. Right now, he might be wearing form-fitting suit and oiled his head daily. But from the peeking tattoo underneath his collar, his huge build, and especially his aura, I was pretty sure that he was something close to a thug in his younger days.

And I could never fare well with this type of guys.

"Is that true? Your brother's not bullshitting me?"

I looked at Quentin, and then I looked at Ryder. My knuckles hurt because I had been pressing them too hard for the last five minutes, and my mouth dried up everytime I attempted to speak. But then I squared my shoulder and nodded, even though I felt like my innards were spilling all over the floor.

"True all he said, Sir. Lying he is not, Sir!"

I could hear Ryder snorted a suppressed laugh.

"We'll train him rough and hard," Quentin still chatted on, and I could see the evil glint dancing within his eyes. "Oh yes, Mr. Trask. You've heard the rumors about Ryder's potent strengtht. Just imagine him on the field, tackling everybody who dares to stand on his way. Right before your eyes is a legend in the making."

Quentin's promise was our gateway out. We left almost unscathed, although I couldn't say that my common sense was intact. My brother had just asked Ryder, his mortal enemy, to join the football team, one which he led. I glanced upon Quentin's purple bruise on his jaw and Ryder's black eye. I should be prepared to see this far more often.

Quentin's friends appeared not long thereafter, and Quentin tapped my back before he ran towards them. Before he was out of earshot, however, Ryder shouted,

"You're sure I'm starting next week?"

Quentin shrugged. "Yeah."

"Aren't you afraid that I'm going to snatch that captain title of yours?"

At this taunt, Quentin burst laughing. "Careful there, asshole, don't make things harder for yourself. And April, do yourself a favor and get the hell away from him."

Ryder flipped the bird at the retreating backs of Quentin and his posse. Again, I was left alone with the bad boy of the school/freak of nature/pot-dealer/Ryder Black. I was contemplating how much of a bad turn my life took the moment I interacted with him, when I could feel heavy weight on my shoulder. Something soft tickled my cheek and heat spread all over my body. That was when I realized that Ryder was leaning against my shoulder.

"Whoawhoahowhawhoa!" I backed away as fast as I could.

"Still not used to me?" he sighed.

"Sorry."

He smiled wryly. "By the way, here's Quentin's t-shirt," he gave me the bag of clothes.

I took it gingerly from him, trying my best to not look too scared to touch him. My heart was beating like crazy and I began to sweat a lot. If this continues, I could start my own diet system: be around Ryder and burn a thousand calories per hour!

"Aren't you gonna leave now?" I asked him, since obviously our business here was done.

"Ah, you and your not so subtle ways," instead of going away like I expected, he instead inched closer to me. I took a step back, and in return, he took a step forward. This kept going on until I could feel the cold tiles against my back.

"Cornered," he whispered. "What are you gonna do now, kitten?"

I admit I often saw this kind of preposition in a lot of movies, and Japanese mangakas were especially fond with using this kind of position as a love plot. But actually having a guy's face 24.556 cm away from me, listening to him breathing, and worse of all, having his arm positioned beside my head was kind of... scary.

And not the 'hot' kind of scary. Scary kind of scary.

Ryder noticed it, too. "You're really immune to this kind of thing, aren't you?"

"Thing what of kind?"

"That's not even Yoda-talk anymore," he sighed before he pulled back.

After he was in a safe distance of 1.04 meter away from me, my coherency came back. "It's... It's just that you had just punched my brother and you have a black eye."

Ryder's nose scrunched a bit, but he held himself. "Alright, I get the hint. I'll just get going."

"Thank you!"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't sound too happy about it."

But as I watched him going away, a question popped inside my mind. I knew that Ryder being a bad ass and all that was just rumors now. From his friends' testimonial, he really just put up a front. He did partake into underground fighting, but he wasn't the type of guy who picked fights just because he felt like it.

And so, I asked him before I could stop myself. "Why did you punch Quentin?"

He stopped walking, but even when he answered, he didn't turn his head to me. "I've been finding cigarette butts on my yard for a few months. I do smoke pot from time to time, but never at home. Never in front of my father. But that brother of yours threw his shit on my yard, on a place where my father could see it."

"Ah..." I nodded slowly as things started to become clear to me.

"My father hates cigarette. He quit a few years ago and swore to never go back. My mother had it even worse. She would rage whenever she sees someone she associates with light a cig. She says it's disgusting, unhealthy, and a long line for suicide. Imagine who they'll rage to when they see random cigarette butts around their house?"

He turned slowly, and I could see his pale face red with rage. His eyebrows pulled forcefully as his lips trembled when he said the words,

"My father has lung cancer, April, and he has stopped fighting."