In the arms of no one

Chapter Two

Valen's POV

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Bending at the waist to reach the flap of the suitcase I had just packed, I quickly take one surrepticious last look around the room to see if there's anything else I would like to take with me on my journey. The rest of my personal effects will most likely be packed up by the staff in preparation for being shipped over to Aunty Elizabeth's. Personally, I think that would be a stupid thing to do. It would mean wasting space on a shipping container, my belongings will only fill that b!tch up one quarter of the way. Unless someone on staff decides to be nice enough to also ship my baby and my handsome beast. God, please let someone send my car and motorbike to me. Sure, I don't have an international license - but how hard can it be to obtain one? I mentally make a note to speak with Lucas about the possibility of having my vehicle's added to the list of belongings that will meet me in America on the way to the airport.

My eyes run over my queen-sized bed, the dark purple and teal duvet set brings tears to my eyes when I think about the person that gave it to me. He's no longer a part of my life, hasn't been for a while - but the memories that we made in this very room only make me want to run and hide somewhere in this house so that I don't have to leave it.

But those are the sentiments of a child and I haven't been one of those for a very long time in many ways.

It took me an hour and a half to pack as many of the bare essentials that I thought I might need while I await for the rest of my belongings. During that time, my mum has come to my door multiple times to fling it open, cuss me out and thank the tech gods, for online check-ins. Each time that she left without closing the door, I would slowly walk towards the door and equally as slowly close it, feeling more and more upset over my situation and how I can't really do anything to change it.

I walk over to my wall of memories, that's what my two childhood friends and I called it when we decided that we would go wild on one of the walls in my room. At the time, it was really important to have some space to display all of our memorable moments. Over the years, I've added more pictures and memorabilia to it. Until now it's a haphazard display of images, quotes and colours, everything that's been or is still important to me is on that wall. On the edges of my wall display, it's painfully obvious that my two childhood friends have been replaced with a group of new people.

I look at each photo carefully, taking down a few that mean a lot to me and despite my dire situation, they make me smile with the memories that they hold.

A day at the beach. BBQ dinners or lunches with the staff. School productions. Sports days. Photos of my two friends and I, and more recently, photos of my new group of friends and I at parties, at the skate park, at the Horowhenua Drag Way. In most of the recent photos I am either drunk off my ass or high as a f*cking kite.

Good times.

Heaving my duffle bag onto my desk, I tug on the zipper, opening the sides wide to place the photos in between the pages of my favourite book, The Art of War - by Sun Tzu, to keep them safe. I stalk back over to the memory wall to double check that I have all the important memories and unpin a few more momentos and photographs.

Next, I walk towards a bookshelf, picking up a few memory tokens. The gumball machine ring from the dairy on Bartholomew Road that one of my friends won for me when we were 8 years old. The hot rod car I won by playing four square at school. The snow globe from Secret LIL Shak in Bulls. I pick up a few more and bend to open my suit case and shove them in between my clothes. I hope that the fabric will protect everything sufficiently during the trip.

Sighing in resignation, I finally stalk over to the full-length mirror on my wardrobe door to carefully look at myself. I like what I'm wearing, I think to myself as I take in the simple outfit; blue distressed, boyfriend jeans, simple white t-shirt and black combat boots. Lifting the sleeve of my tshirt up, I take time to admire the three-quarter sleeve colourful tattoo on my left arm, smiling at the memory of when I got it done. I was drunk and high that night and an uncle of one of the guys I hung out with every weekend was in town for some tattoo artist convention in Palmerston North. He had a stall open at the convention for four days, giving out discounted work. The crew convinced me to sit under his needle the night before he left to go back home to Australia, and I am so glad that I gave in, despite my misgivings.

When he asked me what I wanted done, I knew straight away what I needed permanently etched on my body. Then that overly talented mother f*cker free-hand tattooed a sexy as f*ck version of my face and body, a white wolf surrounds me, intricate swirls in every shade of the f*cking rainbow, glows and twists prettily in the background of the wolf. At the bottom of the image are words that I just can't seem to get out of my head, even though I have no idea where they come from or what they mean.

"I am she and she is me."

Flicking the sleeve back into place, I gaze intently at the discoloration and slight swelling on my face that make-up just can't hide, once again. Gently prodding the puffy skin, I wince and then sneer at the person in the mirror. Some days I can look at myself in the mirror and think, "Hell yeah, I'm pretty!" Other times, like right now - I hate what I see. I wonder when I will start to feel like I'm good enough every day? That day is obviously not today.

My current friends aren't exactly what you would call respectable, good kids. They're more, the naughty do as much bad sh!t as you want without getting caught by the cops, or anyone of authority types. Rebels. Vagrants. Misfits.

Their 'Don't give a f*ck' attitude is actually what pulled me into their orbits at first. From the outside looking in, they live their lives with no rules, no cares, no f*cks. It isn't until you're completely embroiled in their type of mischief that you realise that there are sets of rules that must be followed, or you'll quickly find out that all the rules that didn't matter before all of a sudden, can land you serving a harrowing sentence in juvenile hell.

One - Respect each other and no one else.

Two - What you do, see or hear stays within and never gets leaked out.

Three - 20% of all earnings gets put back into the crew.

Loyalty is a big thing with my crew, another thing that I value. You stick to the small number of rules, and then you can rule the misfits of the underworld. Participating in raging parties that we either host or crash, which we did a lot of - because no matter who you are, if you have a party, and we want to crash it, we're going to and there's nothing you can do about it. I had so much fun joyriding in stolen cars occasionally, going to the illegal fight nights at the quad every Friday night, and let's not forget the vandalism to the school we all loved to hate.

Being the newest member of the crew, I'm what you would consider the good girl of the group. My goal since meeting them has been to watch, participate and not get caught, which includes attending all my classes and not letting my grades drop. I also didn't give up on too many of my other extracurricular activities. I didn't see the point, especially since the training helped me with keeping my ass from getting whooped too badly when on fight nights facing off with some rando dude, whose soul purpose at that particular time is to wipe the floor with my ass using my blood as the cleaner. Then, when I win, those same a$$holes get all up in their hurt feelings and try to take me down in the shadiest of ways. Idiots.

My family is rich, so I don't need money. But there are kids in our community that do need it, either because their families are just too poor or because their parents are too concerned about buying their next drop of alcohol and/or too busy chasing the dragon. Ever since my group of friends introduced me to the fighting circle, I've anonymously donated my winnings between two institutions. Entities? Places? We'll go with places.

One, Taitoko Primary School, which is in the poor part of our town. The Sunday after I've had a fight, I drag my bruised ass out of bed so that I can go out and buy stationary resources, various sized children's clothing, shoes or snacks and easy to heat and store foods for kids who come to school ill-equipped and with nothing to eat. Then on Monday morning, before I go to school, I deliver everything just before seven am -because I know that the Principal and/or the Receptionist will arrive at the school bang on seven.

Two, Mr Hodges, who started running a fight training club out of his triple garage after he lost his job at the local gym, where he taught me how to fight when I was a little girl. That guy taught me everything I know about boxing. The amazing thing is that Mr Hodges started training all the neglected and at risk kids in our town as well as teenagers and all with the most minimal equipment and for free. Ever since I started helping Mr Hodges with overheads and other stuff, he's updated all his equipment, has started Wednesday midweek dinner nights for all his members and there was talk about him hiring more people and moving his gym to a vacant warehouse off the main strip. Amazing what paying a few bills, which I stole from his office, can do.

I've since been dubbed 'The Loyal Local', which I find hilarious, because I'm not loyal to anyone but those kids who deserve better.

In all the time that I've been doing my thing, only one person figured me out and that was only because he caught me the first time I did my Monday morning delivery. My friend Mikaera. I didn't even know he was in town because he doesn't live here in Levin. I got a shock when he called out my name and asked me what I was doing. Mikaera being Mikaera, he sweet talked me into telling him everything, and in return he swore that he wouldn't tell anyone about what I was doing and how I was doing it.

So far he's kept his promise, which isn't surprising because he has always been good like that. But I worry about what's going to happen to the kids now that I won't be there to lend a helping hand. I'm going to have to figure something out sooner rather than later. Someone besides Mr Hodges has to do something to help these kids. I might have to get in contact with Mikaera to see if he can figure out a way to continue what I've been secretly doing for my community. I have to pm him before I jump on that plane, it would be too suspect if 'The Loyal Local' and I were to vanish from Levin at the same time.

My friends and I have been lucky in the fact that we haven't had too many negative run-ins with the local gangs, but that might have something to do with the fact that Aaron, the Crews unofficial leader, is tight with a lot of them. Which seems kind of lucky, if you ask me. Live here long enough, and you hear stories of how intolerable the local gangs are and the lengths they'll go to, to ensure they control their territories.

I peer one last time at my face to make sure that the bruising around my eyes and nose is sufficiently covered by makeup; I iced my face as much as I could in an effort to stop the swelling, but I am disappointed to see that it hasn't done very much.

Oh well, it can't be helped I guess.

With another sigh, I pull on my black leather jacket and I slowly make my way downstairs to the front door where my mum is waiting with Lucas, our family driver.

My red and puffy eyes make me long for a cold cloth and my stuffy head makes me wish I had taken more than 2 painkiller tablets to numb the pain. But nothing could ever numb the pain of me being exiled from my home and not being able to say goodbye to my family or friends properly. If they even want to see me, that is. Obviously, my family already know what's happening to me, thanks to mum telling them all. I'm a little hurt that my biological mother hasn't turned up to say goodbye, but I really shouldn't be surprised. I don't even know why I'm surprised, it's not like she's made an actual effort in the last 17 years.

As for the Crew, I sent out a group text as soon as I got to my room, to let them know what was happening and although they did reply with the customary "Woah, that sucks ass!" or "WTF?", there was no indication that I'd be missed enough for them to come and see me off.

Are they even really my friends? Nah, even I know they're more my fellow hell raisers and I'm at the bottom of the food chain where they're concerned. I honestly don't expect anything more from them.

My feet feel heavy as I drag myself towards the front door. Turning to face my mother, Lucas takes my luggage from my hands so he can place them inside the boot of the Mercedes Benz, I simmer down the myriad emotions plaguing me. Underneath all those swirling emotions is a deep sense of betrayal and fiery anger which I try to hide behind a stoic mask.

Mum looks me over and she says, "I didn't want it to come to this, Vallon." I simply nod my head and though my mind is screaming at me to show her how angry I am, I reach over and gift her with a short hug and I promise myself, that I will never allow myself to be put in a vulnerable position with her ever again.

Don't get me wrong, I love this woman. She is after all the only mother I have ever known, and despite every horrendously negative thing that's ever happened to me while in her care, my f*cked up sense of loyalty will only ever allow me to continue seeing her that way.

"It is what it is, mum. I love you" I reply in a flat voice, cringing a little at how defeated my voice sounds. I kiss her cheek and quickly walk away before I let my emotions get the best of me and I either break down in tears or tell her to f*cking get bent; I'm practically running down the steps where Lucas is waiting for me with the back-seat door open.

Without a backward glance, I ignore the heat of my mother's eyes as she watches me climb in, securing my seatbelt as Lucas promptly closes the door. I stare at my quivering fisted hands, refusing to look at my home for the last time.

______

The hour and a half drive to Wellington Airport was very long and boring, especially because it was a little after three in the morning and there really wasn't anything to see besides the light traffic and lights of the highway and passing small towns that hold no interest to me. I doze off and am awoken to someone gently shaking me awake, "Miss Vallon, wake up." I open my eyes and see Lucas' kind face smiling sadly at me, his caring brown eyes showing frustrated remorse. I nod my head as I blink my eyes rapidly to acclimate myself to the glaring bright lights of the Airport, "Thank you Lucas."

I move to get out of the car, making my way towards the already loaded luggage trolley with my things. Lucas gently grasps my forearm to gain my attention. I look back curiously at him when he says, "I could stay with you until your flight leaves, Miss Vallon. I would be honoured to do this for you."

Sucking my lips in between my teeth with a frown, I answer him with regret, "It's really late Lucas, I don't want to keep you. It's a really long drive home."

His answering frown is exactly what I expected to see, but the shrug that follows is decidedly not very Lucas-like, as he asserts, "I've got nothing else exciting to do for a long while, since your leaving. Please let me stay with you."

Offering a small but sad smile, I respond gratefully, "Thank you, Lucas, I would like that very much."

We briskly walk towards one of the empty check-in lanes and when we reach the front, I notice a beautiful check-in Agent whose Air New Zealand name tag reads - Hi, my name is "Jessica".

She smiles at me and asks for my necessary documents and to load up my luggage onto the weighing stand; Lucas nervously smiles and starts patting his pockets and then reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a thick bundle of papers and what looks like a passport. Meanwhile, I place all my luggage, excluding my carryon, onto the weight stand as I discreetly eye Lucas with an amused silent chuckle.

Smiling sheepishly, he hands over my ticket documents, including a pre-filled customs form that I didn't even know I had to fill out because I didn't fill it out at all, and the passport. Did I mention that he rotates his wrist a few times as he hands over everything with a flourish? Then he slightly turns his head and winks at me like this is all a game, which makes me snort and then giggle with embarrassment. I'm going to miss Lucas and his flamboyant mannerisms that he usually only displays when not in the company of my other family members.

"Business class Wellington to Auckland and then Business class layover flight from Auckland to Honolulu International, then Honolulu to destination Grand Forks North Dakota USA for Miss Vallon, Ataahua Rihari?" she takes a big breath and states with a giggle, "Phew, that was a mouthful!"

Pulling my head back and frowning with confusion, I'm just about to tell her that she has the wrong name, when Lucas places his hand on my shoulder like a warning while smiling at Jessica and replies, "Yes, that most certainly was a mouthful, it is also correct."

She flashes him and then me a broad smile, then starts tapping away at her computer and completing all the necessary check-in procedures while my frown deepens as I gaze at Lucas, like he didn't just lie to the nice lady. Lucas leans over and whispers in my ear, "Later, I'll explain later."

With a shake of my head, I face the desk once more, just as Jessica places my tickets, customs form, passport and some papers that she's added to the pile onto the desk, and with a freakishly cheery smile she points in the direction of a door with a security guard standing next to it.

"Make your way to the gentleman over by the door and show him your documents and passport. You can take your dad with you into the lounge, but he can't go any further than that." my mouth drops and my eyes widen when I realise that she's talking about Lucas.

Just as he's about to correct her, I grab him by his hand and start dragging him behind me while flippantly saying over my shoulder "Thank you."

As bad as it sounds, I like the thought of someone thinking that he's my dad. It makes me feel like I'm not completely forgotten by a family member. And if that isn't pathetically desperate, I don't know what is.

When we make it into the waiting lounge, Lucas and I sit down and start talking about random topics, while I pull out my phone and discreetly start messaging Mikaera about my donations. Talking with Lucas is the thing we like to do the most when he drives me around to either school, my sports clubs or out and about on random errands. If I'm not driving myself around, that is.

He asks questions about what's considered "IN" so that he's up to date with the trends and can better communicate with his kids at home. And I answer his questions or tell him about a new trend that I find interesting, whether it be "mad, bad or fad."

The result is that Lucas is a pretty cool dude with some mad slang and badass skills. In all honesty, I think that he's going to miss his go to person of all things teen, while I'll miss the companionship of an adult who I feel understands me more than anyone else on the planet.

Finally, when there is a lull in conversation, I surreptitiously glance over at Lucas and face the front before I gather the courage to ask him the question that's been burning in the back of my mind since we first arrived. "My name is Vallon, Ataahua Copson, why did you lie to Jessica the Jet hostess?"

With a deep and heavy sigh, Lucas turns his whole body towards me and holds out a hand, just like how he used to when I was a little girl and he had to tell me some bad news. It's crazy how often it was left up to him or his wife to tell me when to expect big changes in my life, but they did it every single time like it was part of their job description - who knows, maybe it was.

Placing my hand in his, I looked up into his kind brown eyes with trepidation, I didn't have to wait for long before he asks, "On forms that require your name, have you ever noticed the section below it that asks for a preferred name?" With a frown, I bite my bottom lip and shrug my shoulders, because I can't exactly remember that part of any form. In fact, I don't think I've really filled out any forms for myself, it was always my mum who did that for me.

Lucas sighs impatiently, rolls his eyes and then states, "On most information forms, there is a section of it that asks for your full name, your address, number...that sort of thing." With a little frown I nod my head urging him to continue, "In that section there is also an allotted section for people who prefer to be called by another name. Mrs Copson, always filled that section in with your first, middle name and the Copson surname, do you understand?"

My frown deepens as I ask in a quiet voice, "Why would she do that?" Lucas doesn't make a sound, what he does do is raise his eyebrows like he's expecting me to use my brain at four o'clock in the morning. It takes me a minute or five for the synapses in my brain to finally click and connect into place. The idea that forms totally blows the rest of my mind away because there is no way that mum is that nefarious! No way!

"She didn't want me to know my father's surname, because she didn't want me to have the information that could help me find my real father or his family. Is that what you're saying?" I hesitantly ask him, hoping that I'm wrong and my brain is just jumping to conclusions, but deep down I know. I just know I'm right.

"I can't be one hundred percent sure, but I think that might be the most plausible explanation."

"What a b***h!" I screech out in anger and from the corner of my eye I catch the woman who is sitting peacefully to the side of me, jump slightly in fright.

Nodding in agreement, Lucas' eyes catch mine and the intense look he gives me stops me from saying anything more about my mum. "Your father- he's a good man. My family has worked for the Copson's for 3 generations. I am loyal to your mother and your family. Don't ever question that. But I also respect your father, for who he is and what he represents. Since the first day he walked the halls of Copson Manor, he has treated me like an equal, like a friend, and it's for that reason that I have reciprocated that sentiment in kind."

He smiles kindly and says, "You are Copson, yes. But you're Rihari as well, and one day you will meet your biological father, and I hope that getting to know him will finally fill the pieces of you that you think are missing." He bops me on the nose and gives my hand a little shake, "Trust me."

"But what if he d-"

"No, Vallon. Your father loves you. He has loved you from afar for the whole of your life and when you meet him, you can ask him all the why's. Just give him a chance to explain, OK? Don't go getting into your head and getting all fired up like you do." He gravely says with a slight squeezing of the hand he still holds.

With a small nod and a little smile, I promise, "Sure. I mean, I don't know how that's going to work out, since I'm leaving the country and all. But sure."

By the time my name - my real name - is called to board my flight, I have laughed and reminisced over stories of our shared past experiences. We are both smiling, genuinely happy and, thankfully, Mikaera and I have come up with a temporary solution so that the kids of Levin don't have to suffer in my absence.

Sighing with resignation, I slowly stand reaching down to grab my carryon from the seat and turn towards Lucas with a warm, fond smile. "Thank you for everything Lucas, please tell your family goodbye from me." My smile wobbles and then completely slips away as a tear dangles from the lashes of my eyes. I lean in and hug the life out of Lucas while he does the same with me.

"Oh Valen, the pleasure is all mine. We will see each other again, I'm sure." I nod my head against his shoulder when he says, "Promise me, you will pm or dm. If you want, we can facetime or Skype, whichever one you prefer, and I promise to keep you up to date with all the gossip from here."

Pulling away, I give him a watery smile and promise that we will keep in touch, so I can tell him all about what's IN at my new home and he can use it to impress his kids, to which he laughs and, with one more sad smile, I step towards the gate.

Just before I walk through the door, I turn to give Lucas a cheeky smile and wave, poking my tongue out at him, making his face light up with a watery grin. Then I'm off towards the plane that will whisk me away to Auckland where I will then take a flight to a country I've never been to before to begin my new life.