THE Obnoxious

Trish’s POV “Peee-peeem-peeem” The shrill beeping of the monitors stabbed at my heart, each sound a reminder that Mom, my whole world since my dad passed away ten years ago was slipping away. I was just seventeen, and everything was collapsing. What would happen to me now? Where would I go? Who even was I without her? Panic twisted my chest as visions of wandering alone, scavenging for scraps of survival, filled my mind. Canada offered nothing, and without Mom, the ground felt like it was dissolving beneath me. A doctor approached, his eyes already heavy with pity, telling me a truth I wasn’t ready to hear. “Um… I’m sorry, young lady, but… your mom is gone.” His voice cracked. “She died at 3 p.m. Ashward Central Hospital.” Gone. Just like that. Gone? My mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could she leave so soon? She promised she’d see me through everything. She promised she’d watch me become a world star. She promised she wouldn’t leave me…yet here I was, staring at her lifeless corpse where her promises faded into silence. I didn’t fight the doctor. I didn’t scream. I just stood there as the truth wrapped around me like cold water. Mom had pushed herself too far: two 9-to-5 jobs, a night shift at the bar, no rest, no medication, just sheer survival for my sake… until her body finally broke. It hadn’t been sudden; her warnings had been there all along. But knowing that didn’t stop the first tear from sliding down my cheek. I wiped it quickly, remembering how Mom always told me to stay strong, to stay mature no matter what. “We did our best. Stress… untreated symptoms… no medical follow-ups. If she had gotten help earlier, she might’ve lived. She was still in her forties.” The doctor said shifting uncomfortably, fiddling with his coat. I barely listened. I’d heard those explanations too many times already. “You’re still a minor. Do you have anywhere to go? Do you work? Anyone who can take you in?” The doctor continued gently. His pity was suffocating. I just shook my head. He stood there for a moment, five long minutes of helpless silence, before muttering something I didn’t catch and walking away, leaving me alone with the sound of my cracking world. An hour later, footsteps echoed through the corridor. Miss Britney Roland, Mom’s closest friend rushed inside. Her eyes darted left and right until they landed on me. “Trishyyy…oh no…” she cried, and before I could react, she pulled me into a tight hug. That was all it took. My chest broke open, and I sobbed loud and trembling into her shoulder. “Am… am… I’m never going to see her again.” I choked out, hugging Miss Britney tightly as the tears poured uncontrollably. I clung to her so hard it felt like her belly was the only solid thing left for me to hold onto. I could feel her heartbeat racing beneath my cheek, her quiet sobs trembling through her body, her grief mirroring mine. “What am I going to do, Miss Britney? She was all I had… and now I’ll… I’ll never see her again.” I cried out, my voice breaking. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it out… let it all out,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me, even as she tried, and failed to hold back her own tears. I only held her tighter. Miss Britney wasn’t just Mom’s best friend, she was the closest thing to a sister Mom ever had. Since we moved from Canada six years ago, she’d been there for everything. A steady presence. A dependable voice. One of the few people who knew exactly what raising a child alone felt like; because she was a single mom herself, juggling her own storms. And she was amazingly young and pretty too. “Look at me, sweetheart.” She pulled back slightly, cupping my face and gently wiping my tears. Her voice softened, but her eyes were fierce. “Your mother always predicted this might happen. I didn’t want to believe it, but… she made me vow to take you in if this day ever came.” I paused. Take me in? Mom predicted this? “What do you mean?” My voice cracked. She inhaled shakily. “Your mom was worried… really worried. She didn’t want you alone. So she asked me to take you in, help you, give you what you need. Right now, what you need most… is a home.” “What…?” My throat tightened. “I know it’s strange,” she said quickly. “But it was her wish. And I don’t expect your trust immediately. I just want to honor her. I’m not rich, but I have enough to take care of my son and her daughter.” “Forget about your things at home. I’ll make sure you have everything you need,” she promised. I had no choice. If I didn’t accept, I’d lose everything; my home, my last year of school, my stability. So I nodded quietly. Within minutes, Miss Britney was guiding me out of the hospital, her hand warm around mine. Her car was cool inside, smelling like fresh leather. “It’s going to be okay, Trishy. Focus on yourself and your studies. I’ll handle the rest; bills, funeral, the arrangements. Don’t worry too much.” She held my hand, squeezing it gently. I didn’t reply. My heart was too heavy. We drove for hours, and at some point exhaustion swallowed me. I woke only when the car stopped. “We’re home. Come on, Trish,” Miss Britney said brightly as we stepped out of the car. Her cheer was too warm for the heaviness sitting in my chest, but I followed her inside. “So this will be your home from now on, okay? Don’t be shy.” She said. “Yeah,” I murmured, still groggy from sleep. “Joseph!” she called, voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet. “Come out and greet our new roommate!” Footsteps creaked from upstairs, slow at first, then steady. “I’m guessing that’s your son?” I asked. She sighed. “Yep. He’s troublesome, and rude, so just… don’t mind him, okay?” “Mhm.” I barely replied before a voice behind me hit like a slap. “I heard that, Mom.” He walked in. My heart skipped. Whatever sleep I had left dissapered. “So who’s this lady?” he added. “She’ll be staying with us for now. Uhm… she just lost her mother, so we’re her only family now. Be polite.” Miss Britney stepped in right away. I didn’t know why I hesitated to turn around. Maybe it was the familiarity in his voice. I’d never seen her son before, but something about the tone made a memory pull at me. I forced myself to turn. “I’m Trish,” I said. And there he was. JOSEPH ROLAND. What the hell was he doing here? Mthland High’s prized quarterback. The supposedly ‘hottest guy in school,’ or whatever everyone calls him. The name students said with breathless awe or bitter jealousy. The school’s walking headline. Rumor had it he’d dated twenty girls in a single year, and left a handful deluged. Mothers warned their daughters about boys like him, and daughters ignored every warning. He carried confidence like a birthright, arrogance like perfume. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. Mthland was a playground for boys like him, a school where teens acted twice their age, bathrooms echoed with soft moans, and teachers gossiped, dated, and shamelessly hit on each other as if chaos was normal. Everything was hormones, drama, and impulsive hearts. I didn’t hate the school, but it felt like stepping into a movie I didn’t want to star in. And especially not now, with everything going on. I couldn't believe I’m actually going to have to walk to that school again after the summer, for my final year. Yet here I was, standing in the home of Joseph Roland, the king of the school. Gazing at him, a raw, immediate flash of memory struck me; the relentless lust, hormonal swagger, and heedless sexuality my peers celebrated at school. It was an appalling contrast to the sudden, hollow absence left by Mom's death that very day. But this fact only cemented my resolve. If I could just endure my time here, and walk back into my final school year pure, I would walk out into the world with my head held high, my mind, heart, and body untouched. That, I knew, was the only way Mom could look down from heaven and be truly proud. He studied me with a tilt of his head. “Oh, I’ve met you somewhere… but I can’t really…” He shaked his head. He began inching closer when his mom wasn’t watching. I always knew he was cheap, predictable, and typical, so I kept my cool. “Yh, you're familiar too,” I said firmly. “We go to the same school, Mthland High. I’ll be a senior after summer.” “Oh that’s right!” Miss Britney clapped softly. “Same school. Maybe you two can go together every morning. What she really needs now is a friend.” She said Cheerfully. Joseph muffled a laugh behind her back. “Yh right.” He smirked lowly. He didn’t think I saw it. But I did. How could someone be so childish? I stepped closer to Miss Britney, away from him. My skin felt tight, like his presence crawled under it. “Oh yeah,” he said, grinning wide. “I’ll be entering senior year too. I really hope we end up in the same class this year. Would be my delight.” I nodded, but I wasn't buying the act. His polite smile was a mask that would slip the second his mother turned her back. Then, my stomach dropped. I realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. I’d been so focused on his attitude I missed the obvious: he was shirtless. Broad shoulders, solid chest, and the audacity to stand there half-naked, like he was showing off? Shock hit me as hard as disgust, and my fists itched. He was trouble. “I’ll see you then… tonight,” he whispered as he brushed past me. He slid into his hoodie, his eyes dragging over me before his hand “accidentally” brushed my waist, a touch too familiar, too confident, like he already knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin. “Joseph! Don’t stay out too late,” his mother called. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, disappearing. “That boy,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Can you believe he stayed out until twelve last night? After I told him not to?” Her frustration rested on me like she needed me to understand how exhausting he was. “I can imagine how hard it is raising a kid on your own.” I said gently. “Oh, but don’t feel unwelcome,” she said quickly. “You’re not a guest. You’re my daughter now. My sister's child. Your mom was there when everyone else walked away. I won’t fail her… ever. You’re always welcome, child.” Her smile was the only warmth I felt. I was immensely grateful she’d taken me in without question. But her son, cocky, rude, and aggressively pervy, made it impossible to breathe. He saw my grief not as a tragedy, but as sport, relentlessly smirking and teasing. I wanted nothing more than to swing at him. And that “See You Tonight” he’d whispered? I had a feeling what he meant. But the real question was: What exactly is that obnoxious i***t really planning tonight?