Hellcat

Chapter 2

Wilder Sanchez

Fucking Monday mornings.

I hate them so much.

Especially when trying to deal with depression and physical exhaustion. I am well aware that these are the side effects of my drug use but I cannot live without my six hours of happiness. My body feels heavy as I crawl off the floor where I fell asleep last night and make my way to the bathroom.

The mirror above my sink is broken. I slammed my fist into it during one of my withdrawal days.

I like it this way. Because I don't have to remind of the mess I have become by staring at my reflection. 

I get dressed for school in ripped jeans and my customary blue hoodie. The hoodie is the only thing I have that belongs to my mother. When I wear it, it makes me feel like I'm close to her even though I can barely remember who she was. 

Thirty minutes of lazy walking later I have arrived in front of Westreet Prep, my current high school. My older brother Lucas went there and I'm pretty sure both my parents went there too. Westreet Prep is just another high school, with federal style brick buildings and a large courtyard in front.

I used to ride a motorcycle to school. It was a drop-dead gorgeous black Yamaha FZi. But after my arrest, many of my privileges were taken away from me. Walking into the school, I head to the cafeteria. Repeatedly hitting the rundown snacks vending machine earns me a glare from the lunch ladies and a honey nut granola bar which I rightfully paid for, thank you very much. 

I find a table in the corner and set up my stuff there. My history report was supposed to be on the American Civil War. After borrowing several books from the library and paying for old reports on similar topics from the school's black market, I have only now decided to begin my report, fifteen minutes before its due. 

I interchange between nibbling on the end of my pencil and munching my breakfast bar while composing my essay. It's concise, with a total of four hundred words. The teacher is an impatient oaf called Mr. Beier so I think he will appreciate my concise and accurate essay, not at all like the verbose theses my classmates will no doubt submit. 

An alarm on my phone alerts me that it is time for class to begin so I pack up my stuff, throw my trash in the bin by the exit doors, and head to Mr. Beier's World History class. Why am I taking a history class? I have asked myself the exact same question over a dozen times. I am not sure who I want to be in the future but I am pretty sure it's not a history buff. 

The tardy bell goes off the same time I walk into the class.

"It's nice to see you bright and early Ms. Sanchez, " Mr. Beier greets sarcastically. 

"The pleasure is all yours, " I say, slamming my report on his desk. 

"Oh wow. You actually did your homework."

"Oh wow. You actually grew a beard."

He chuckles. "Take your seat, Eli."

Mr. Beier is one of the few cool teachers at my school. I am pretty sure he's on a certain medication that loosens his inhibitions but it's good for me because then I get to speak my mind, with no filter, and not have to worry about the consequences. 

My permanent seat is in the very back of the class. For some reason, people don't really like me. I'm not sure if it's the scowl or the glare that intimidates them but whichever it is, it makes my life a lot easier. 

I plug in my earpiece and pull my hood further over my face so you can only see the base of my nose and lips. Today's music of choice is by Guns N' Roses. I like to think that my biological father is Duff McKagan and not that piece of s**t t**t residing at the East Jersey State Penitentiary. 

Well into the lesson, I get bored of making stick figures of my classmates in my textbook. I remove my switchblade from my pocket and begin carving into the wood. I've written a bunch of statements and words into the table. The most recent one is 'We'll All Burn' at the bottom left corner of my desk. I'm busy coining the next phrase I will construct when the doors to the class burst open. 

"It's nice to know you're not dead, Mr. Bennett. Care to tell me why you're late?" Mr. Beier asks, staring down the boy who just walked in.

I recognize the name and the face the name belongs to is semi-familiar. Almost as if I know him but I don't know where I know him from. 

"I needed to pray to God for the strength to get me through this class."

I guffaw. This boy with the messy blonde hair and sexy smirk honestly expects anyone to believe he was at church on a Monday morning? It looks more like he was trapped in the elevator making out with Christine Mitchell. 

Meier's expression is pinched. "Take a seat, Bennett." 

"Thanks, Mr. B, " the boy says in a sing-song voice, whistling as he walks down the aisle and eyes the room for an empty seat. There's only one available seat. 

The one in front of me. 

His eyes fall on me. A flash of recognition. So he knows me too. The boy sits in front of me and I go back to my carving. 

Minutes later, a neatly folded paper plane lands in the middle of my desk. 

I kick his legs. He looks back quickly, winking at me before returning his gaze to the front of the class. 

I unfold the plane and read what he has written. 

 I know you are.

"And who might that be?" I ask aloud, careful not to raise my voice so the teacher does not hear us.

Another paper plane arrives on my desk.

You have hands, write. Don't talk. And you are Wilder Sanchez.

It appears there is an unfortunate soul in this school cursed with the knowledge of my name. How he came to know this is a mystery that can only be explained with one statement. 

"Are you a stalker?" It was either this or a secret admirer. And I'm willing to bet no guy in Westreet Prep will ever want to go out with me. Not that in interested in any of them either. 

"You're in my art class," he whispers in a hiss. 

"The Devil speaks." 

"Ms. Sanchez, Mr. Bennett could you keep your voices down. Some of your classmates are actually trying to learn."

"Sorry, Mr. Beier," we chorus. I meet Josh's eye. 

Seconds later, a third plane arrives in the middle of my desk.

Let's text. XXXX XXXX. 

I type the number into my phone and send him a message.

Josh?

In the flesh. He replies micro-seconds later.

Who are you? I demand.

A friend. What the f**k type of reply is that? If there's one thing I hate more than missing my six hours of sleep, it's cryptic people. 

I don't have friends. Who are you?

A quiet chuckle in front of me lets me know that Josh finds my question amusing. I kick him. The laughter subsides.

I'm Josh Bennett as you may have guessed. We share a history class and AP art class as well. Yesterday you met my brother Abe Bennett at community service.

Abe set you to this? We only just met and he was already setting the boys on me? What kind of rookie move was that? 

No. This was all me. I wanted to get to know you.

Josh's reply only raises my suspicions. If he really was telling the truth and he had been in my class all this time why did he wait till now to talk to me? That's what I planned on finding out in my next text message. 

And you chose now because?

Another chuckle. This time, I find myself grinning slightly. There is something strangely appealing about this cheeky bastard who is also skilled in the art of papercrafts. 

I didn't have an excuse to talk to you. Now I do. Let's be friends. 

He turns his head towards me and smiles like there is no tomorrow.

"You are crazy," I say, finding myself contemplating his offer.

"Aren't we all?"

"I like crazy. Call me Eli."

And so for the first time in my years, I have made a friend who is not trying to screw me over with a bad drugs deal or f**k me. I wonder what it will be like. From the delight in Josh's eyes and the smirk on his face, I can confirm one thing. There will be trouble. Trouble and I go way back. 

Abraham Bennett

Who needs an alarm clock when you've got a little brother? I'm on the verge of reaching over our dining table to strangle Josh as he calmly explains the reason I woke up twenty minutes later than I was supposed to. 

Josh thought it would be 'fun' to experiment on my alarm clock by hiding it under the piles of dresses in my wardrobe to see whether the sound would be able to reach me from beneath all the denim and wool.

Mom senses my growing agitation and places a plate of pancakes in front of me. 

"Thank you," I say to her, managing a tight smile. I drizzle chocolate syrup on my pancakes and stab them into my mouth. I'm taking my time. Savouring the fluffiness of the pancakes and sugary goodness of the chocolate syrup I have doused it with.

"Eat faster, bro, I don't want to be late for school."

I swallow. "You honestly think that after the stunt you pulled this morning I am going to drive you to school. You've got another thing coming your way Josh."

"No fighting at the table," Mom says when Josh reaches for the ketchup bottle. My brother is such a weirdo he eats pancakes with ketchup. He claims ketchup is his lifeline and he can't eat live without it. 

"Abe doesn't want to drive me to school," he whines like the petulant toddler I've always known he was. But for the steroids, he wouldn't be the five foot eleven block of muscle and idiocy he is.

Mom looks at me. "Is this true Abe?"

It's my turn to be a whining little kid. "Josh took my alarm clock. He made me late."

"You are making yourself late by eating like a prima donna. Coach is going to have your head."

"s**t, " my fork drops, bouncing on the porcelain of the plate before falling to the ground. I had forgotten all about my early morning basketball practice.

"No cussing, " mom says. 

"Sorry mom, gotta run, " I say, standing up and kissing her cheek hastily before grabbing my basketball gear from where it rests in front of the door and my keys from the basket in the table and scurrying out the house like a rat with a tail between my legs. 

"Hey wait for me!" Josh yells, but I'm too busy fumbling for the keys to my dark green Corvette. A beep and the doors open, I throw my bags into the back of the car and hop in. 

My driving skills this morning are questionable as I zip on the main road, zigzagging through the traffic. I was flying at eighty miles per hour, which was well above the speed limit. I double-parked in the school parking lot, barely remembering to lock my car as I grab my gear and clamber up the stairs double to one. My heartbeat is erratic as I burst into the gym.

"You're late Bennett." Coach Flores says flatly. "Ten laps around the court. Now."

The very punishment I had wanted to avoid had just been meted out to me. 

Seeing as abandoning Josh at home, reckless driving and breathless running have not paid off, I decided to take my sweet time while changing into my mesh basketball shorts and short-sleeved compressed shirt. I don't need to change the black high tops. I get out and begin my laps, watching my other team members throw it down on the court. 

It isn't long before my shirt was soaked with sweat and was matted to my skin. I slow down a bit, but not enough for the coach to notice. 

At last, I have finished with my punishment and I am dog-tired as well.

I get to the bleachers and I slow to the stop and stride towards a few of my friends. 

"Abe, " Keith smiles as we shake hands and slap each other's backs. "Man, you stink." He wrinkles his nose at me. 

I chuckle. "I just finished running fifteen laps, K. Forgive me for being a little sweaty."

"That's what you get for coming in late, bro. And anyway why were you late? You're usually on time for training."

"It was Josh."

"Ah, " Keith nods in understanding. Keith Young has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He is well aware of the family dynamic and knows all about Josh. He has been a victim of quite a number of Josh's pranks too.

"How do you plan on getting back at him?"

"I haven't really thought about it, " I say.

Keith smirks. If there's one person who can match wits with my brother Josh, it's my best friend Keith. Keith is also Josh's best friend. They are like two peas in a pod and thick as thieves too. 

"But I don't think any scheming will be necessary. I left him at home today so he's going to have to hitch a ride with our mom in her," I shiver at the last word. "Sedan."

"Ouch, " Keith whistles lowly. 

"Right, " 

At Westreet Prep, reputation is everything. And reputes are determined by the type of vehicle you drive, that's the number one factor used for the popularity ladder ranking, the brand of clothes you wear, and finally, the grades you get. 

My Corvette Z06 puts me at the top among the big people on the popularity charts. Being friends with Keith Young only ups that factor. 

Keith is that guy who everyone knows. He's a DJ in training and he throws the best house parties which are always invite-only. I don't really care about being popular, but it means the world to Josh. I can only imagine how pissed off he'll be at me. 

Coach blows his whistle loudly. "Get your butts onto the court now. We're running the final drill!"

"Looks like we're not done here, " I sigh, draining the rest of my bottle of water. 

"I guess so, " Keith agrees. 

The boys' locker room is one of my least favorite parts of being a point guard for our school basketball team.

It reeks.

The sweaty jerseys, smelly socks, wet shirts, and dirty underwear create a foul scent that is out of this world. Add a poor ventilation system and a broken heater that turns the locker room into a furnace and you've got yourself a cosmic catastrophe on the nasal level. 

I shower as quickly as possible and try to avoid the flying towels and soap bars as I make a way out of the bathing stalls to get dressed. Boys will be boys; they can't even have the sacred act of bathing without adding some boisterousness. 

I'm quick to get dressed and find Keith waiting for me at the exit doors to the gym. Together, we head to our shared geography class. Keith wants to be an archaeologist which is a bit nerdy for someone like him. I'm leaning towards an airline pilot or aerospace engineer. I've always been obsessed with air and space. I'm not really sure how geography is going to help in achieving that dream but my guidance counselor said it would be a good choice. 

After geo, I have physics, my favorite subject, and finally math. 

My lunch period is conveniently shared with Keith, my best friend, and Josh. Most of my basketball team friends also have that lunch period. Our table is in the middle of the cafeteria, near the 'popular people table'. I think it's really stupid that we sit in cliques during lunch but I sit with my basketball squad so who am I to talk. 

I get to the table early. Only two other people are there before me. Cole and Raina. Cole is a power forward and Raina is his girlfriend. The two have been friends since preschool and finally started dating last summer. I greet them and sit on the other side of the table with my tray of food. Today, they served chicken burgers and potato wedges. Keith slides into space next to me. 

He's shivering as if he just heard some great news. 

"What's wrong with you?" I ask when I can't bear his giddy smiling any longer. 

"Josh has a girlfriend!" He bursts out. 

For a full second, the cafeteria goes silent. Acknowledging the news that one of the greatest players of Westreet Prep, Josh Bennett, my own brother, has a girlfriend. 

"Why didn't you tell me, man?" Keith asks, stealing a fry from my plate. 

I swat his hand away when he reaches for another. "I didn't even know he had a girlfriend."

"That's cold man. Even for Josh."

"Wait till I get my hands in him. I'll-"

"You'll what?" A familiar female voice asks. I crane my neck to look behind me. 

Eli.

And Josh. 

They are...

I can't even bring myself to think about it. 

"Eli, " I gasp. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not a dropout. I go here., " she says flatly. 

"No, I mean. Ugh, never mind." I sigh, realizing that every word I say only makes me sound like a worse person. "Josh why didn't you tell me you two are dating."

"We're not, " they synchronize and exchange eye contact, Eli frowning and Josh smirking. 

I turn my gaze to Keith. "Keith, there better be an explanation for this."

"I just saw Josh holding hands with this girl and the next he was kissing her so I thought he was dating her."

Josh laughs. "That was China. She's the new girl and needed help finding the biology lab so I was holding her hand to guide her there. That kiss was her way of saying thanks."

"Okay, ew. On a more serious note, can we sit, I'm hungry." Eli says, staring at me as if waiting for my approval. 

"Go right ahead, "

She sidles over the bench and Josh sits next to her. He places the tray of the food in front of her and she thanks him with a tiny smile before going at her burger. I can't help but stare at her as she eats. 

"Is there something on my face?" She asks, burger mid-route to her mouth. She returns it to the paper plate. 

"No, " I answer hesitantly. 

"Then quit staring at my face, " she huffs. Her eyes skim the table, which has suddenly filled. Everyone is gawking at her. 

"What's their problem?" She asks no one in particular. 

I'm about to answer when Keith cuts me off. "You're new. You haven't introduced yourself. I'm Keith by the way. The third Musketeer."

"Yeah, I know who you are."

How come she knows Keith and didn't recognize me yesterday? To be fair, I didn't recognize her either. 

"Care to tell us your name pumpkin?" Aspen asks. Aspen is our shooting guard. He's six feet four inches of muscle and confidence. He's like the teenage Muhammad Ali. He's a great player on the court and an even player off the court. 

"Nun ya, " she snaps. "Nun ya business."

Josh offers Aspen a bottle of water. "I thought you might need that to cool the burn."

Keith snorts. 

Marcus chuckles.

Cole and Raina are too busy making out to care. 

"I'm Eli," she says simply. 

Everyone around goes around introducing themselves. 

Josh and Eli eat from the same tray. I've never seen Josh share his food with anyone. Never. This is the boy who broke his arm in fifth grade climbing a tree so he wouldn't have to share his vanilla cookies with anyone. 

Keith notices this too. "You sure you two are not dating?"

"I don't date guys," Eli says before popping a fry in her mouth.

"I didn't realize you swing for the other team." Josh is stunned. Well, so am I. 

"God no, " she waves the air in front of her as if to clear the ambiguity. "I'm not a lesbian. I just don't date guys."

"I'm all for casual s*x," Aspen adds. 

"No thanks, " Eli says flatly. "I'm still exploring my options."

"I like the way you think, sister," Josh agrees. They pump fists. 

Lunch progresses without many complications. Keith seems to like Eli. But I'm not surprised. Eli just strikes me as a likable person. She's fierce without being cocky, funny without being rude, and quiet without making you feel like an egotist.  

When the bell goes off signaling the end of our lunch period, I'm reluctant to leave, because I have music next and as much as I love music class, our teacher Mr. Sharpay is a pain in the posterior. 

"Don't you have a class?" Keith asks when he realizes that besides Cole and Raina, no one else has left the table. Marcus and Aspen are engaged in a lively conversation about their latest s****l exploits. I'm tired of hearing about whose boobs are bigger and whose panties smell nicer. I swear these guys are misogynistic pigs. 

"I'm supposed to be in Mr. Hall's art class right now," Josh says. 

"Me too, " Eli adds."Let me carry your books, " I offer, springing to my feet. I wanted to talk to her about Josh, advice her to steer clear of him and this is my chance to do so. "I have hands, " she says flatly."You can carry my books, Abe." Josh's grin is taunting and I almost wish he's not my little brother so I can slam him into the metal lunch table with no regrets. Eli is a nice girl. I don't want him to use her. "I'm not calling you incapable. Just trying to be nice.""Stop trying to be nice, just be yourself," Eli says standing up. She looks at Josh. "Coming?" "Sure, " he says sprightly hooking arms with her, and the duo walked out of the cafeteria together.Keith snorts. "Finally a girl smart enough to choose Josh over you.""You're supposed to be on my side, Keith!""You guys are both my best friends. I'm not picking sides.""Whatever, " I roll my eyes, dumping my tray in the bin at the end of the table. "I have music next.""Want me to walk you to class, Abe?" Aspen taunts. 

"You too?" I sigh. Why are all my teammates not on my side? 

"We should have recorded that rejection, " Marcus adds.

"This is hopeless," I roll my eyes. "Catch you later, bros."

Cole raises his hand in a wave. Finally acknowledging my presence. "Peace,"