Twisted Devil by Ivy Blake
Chapter Two
Tyler
“Have you studied for the test tomorrow?” Amber asked me before biting into her particularly plain looking salad. I scoffed and cast a knowing look at Rob, who smirked back at me.
“You know I don’t need to study,” I said, a comment that was only half true. “I’m top student. That spot is mine I don’t have shit to worry about.” I shrugged.
“You don’t have to be so cocky about it, you know,” Amber sniffed. “We can’t all be geniuses like the great Tyler Katz, can we?”
“Maybe you just have to try harder,” I teased, knowing that the comment would piss her off.
Amber couldn’t stand not being the best. And while she tried to gun for good grades, studying more than she liked to admit, I still beat her time and time again.
“You can be such an ass, Tyler.” Amber rolled her eyes and stormed off, her salad only half finished. Rob looked up from his meal and shook his head even though his mouth was stretched into a big smile.
“I don’t know why she still bothers with you,” he said.
“I’m irresistible,you can’t blame her,” I said.
I glanced around the dining hall and, as per usual, many pairs of eyes looked back at me. Female eyes, in particular. I still found it quite amusing that so many of them found me so fascinating, especially those who I’d rejected in the past or who knew they’d never have a chance with me. I only went for a certain type of girl and even then, it was never anything serious. Amber had been the only girl I’d dated for a few months and that had been a mistake in the first place.
“You think you guys will ever get back together?” Rob asked, and I could hear the wariness in his voice.
“Fuck no!” I exclaimed, not caring who heard it.
“But you’re still fucking, right?”
“Nah, of course not.”
Yes, occasionally, but only when the needs cropped up. Shit’s just easier with Amber, even though she can be annoying as fuck and is incredibly self-centred. Some would say she’s even more self-obsessed than I am, which is saying something. At least Amber knows that I have no interest in getting back together with her. Or at least I hope she does.
To be fair to me, it had been a few weeks since we’d hooked up, even though she’d been doing all the asking recently. Maybe things were running dry, and I’d have to look for the perfect friends with benefits again. Shouldn’t be too hard.
Except from all that shit with feelings that made everything a million times more complicated. Not my feelings, of course. Fuck that. Sex and feelings were two completely different things for me, and I knew how to keep them as far away from each other as possible.
“What if she gets a new boyfriend?” Rob pressed further.
“Then she gets a new boyfriend. Why would I give a fuck?” I chuckled.
“I thought you guys were close,” Rob put on Amber’s high-pitched voice on the last word, which made me laugh. I shook my head before responding.
“Trust me, man, it’s really not that deep.”
I could understand how people would think that from the outside. Me and Amber were together a lot, but it was more so an image thing than anything else. People like us tended to stick together. The main things we had in common were the fact that we were blessed with good looks and had wealthy parents who wanted us to go to Ivy League schools just so that they could brag about it with their other snooty friends. The only person that I could consider being in the realm of ‘close’ was Rob, and even then, we probably weren’t as close as we were back in middle school.
Rob shrugged, then moved on to talking about swimming practice. We were both on Valley High’s swim team and, of course, I was the captain. There was a competition coming up soon and Coach had been demanding a lot more from us which pissed me off because it took away from my time to do other shit like study, hang out with my friends and antagonise girls.
“Coach suggested I cut my hair.” Rob’s voice pierced through my thoughts and I turned my attention back to him, my eyes landing on his afro.
“Why would he say that?” I asked, searching Rob’s eyes for his feelings. I could tell that the conversation had made him uncomfortable, especially because I hadn’t heard of Coach Jenkins saying the same thing to anyone else on the team.
“He said it’s because it would make me more streamlined and help me get a better time,” said Rob through gritted teeth. “But I know it’s just because he can’t stand to see such an obvious marker of blackness.”
“What, are you saying Coach is racist?” I hissed.
I couldn’t believe I was saying the words out loud. It almost felt dirty to associate that word with someone I trusted so much and looked up to. But I knew better than to disagree with Rob on this, especially since his experience with Coach, as only one of two black kids on the team, was extremely different to mine.
“I’m not saying that explicitly. I’m just saying it’s a bit odd that I’m the only one he’s asked. Micheal’s hair is literally down to his back and he hasn’t said shit about that,” Rob said pointedly.
“You’re right,” I said, scratching my neck. “That’s kinda fucked. I say ignore him. No one can tell you what to do with your hair,” I said indignantly. I hated to see Rob upset. Even though he was trying his best to keep his face neutral, I could tell that Coach’s comment had gotten to him.
“What if he kicks me off the team?”
“He’s not gonna kick you off the team,” I said with a chuckle.
“But what if he does?” Rob’s eyes were wide with worry and in that moment I wished that I could march into Coach’s office and demand that he apologise to Rob. But even I knew that dealing with that man when he was angry was a whole other ball game.
“If he threatens to do that, then I’ll get the whole team to strike,” I said.
Rob groaned. “That’s so fucking awkward.”
“It’ll make him reconsider his dumb ass request,” I said, hoping that the situation wouldn’t have to come to that. I was willing to stand up for my friend, but I preferred not to mess with things that could affect my college portfolio.
“Whatever, we’ll see,” said Rob and from his body language, I could tell that the conversation was over. The bell rang for the end of lunch and me and Rob got up to go to our next class.
* * *“I’m home,” I called out as I closed the front door behind me.
“Tyler,” I heard my mom’s voice from the living room.
I slipped my shoes off and put them on the shoe rack so that she wouldn’t bite my head off for leaving them out like usual. It wasn’t even a big deal, and I had tried to tell her as much, but parents don’t like listening to their kids, do they?
I walked into the living room, feeling the familiar plush carpet beneath my feet. I took off my blazer and perched next to the couch that Mom was sitting on. Even though I was more than used to the fact that Dad worked while Mom stayed at home and took care of things here, it still annoyed me that she was always on my case after school. Surely she had other things to do than harass her eighteen-year-old son?
I couldn’t tell if the stress present on her face was new or the same expression that had sat there for the last few years. Mom was a small, slight woman, and I always worried that if she tripped, she’d just shatter into a million pieces. Despite her frail stature, her eyes had the power to put me in my place and made up for the height that she lacked.
“Everything okay?” I asked warily.
I didn’t want to sit down because that would invite her to give me a lecture. I was shattered and just wanted to lock myself in my room for a few hours without having to deal with anyone.
“Why don’t you sit down?”
It came out more like a demand than a question. I hesitated, but Mary Katz’s piercing eyes dared me to disobey her, which was never wise. Not that she’d be the one to administer any punishments. She always surrendered that delicacy to my dad.
“What’s wrong?” My mind raced with thoughts about all the possible things that she could be dissatisfied with today.
“I checked your grades today,” she said slowly, her thin eyebrows raised on her forehead. I felt a tightness in my chest- I knew exactly what was coming next.
“I’m averaging a 4.2. That’s the highest in my year,” I said as calmly as I could. A flicker of anger passed through Mom’s eyes, and I knew that it would have been better if I’d just kept my mouth shut.
“That’s not good enough, Tyler, and you know that,” she said firmly.
Of course it wasn’t good enough. My grades were better than her or Dad’s had ever been and yet they still managed to make me feel like a failure. Every single time. I felt my lungs deflate in my chest like forgotten birthday balloons and had to hide my curled fists in my lap so that Mom didn’t see them.
“What are you going to do about this?”
“Study harder, I guess,” I said quietly as I avoided eye contact.
“You guess?” she hissed. “Tyler, if you want to stand out, you’re going to need to pull a better GPA than that. Basically, all the kids applying to Ivy’s will have 4.0s you need to get at least a 4.5 or better to prove that you’re special.”
I nodded at her but kept quiet, my eyes drifting over the pictures on the mantelpiece. They were mostly of me throughout school holding different certificates and trophies, having won various awards. The pictures themselves didn’t bring me much joy, just reminded me of the reputation that I had to maintain regardless of whether I wanted to or not.
“I’ll do better,” I said after a moment.
The same promise I made whenever my parents sat me down like this and looked at me with faces that always seemed to be full of disappointment and dissatisfaction. Unless I’d beaten one of my cousins or their friends’ kids, of course. But even then, the joy was short-lived, until they’d moved onto the next thing, their approval growing further and further out of reach. Ever since I was a kid, their approval was like a drug to me. The first hit had been enough to have me hooked for a lifetime.
Receiving even just a crumb of it was enough to propel me onto the next goal, the next big thing that would reassert may status and position as the best. Tyler Katz had always been the top of the class, the best athlete, the best looking, the most popular. These things didn’t just happen overnight, but they could be taken away from me if I didn’t watch out.
“Good,” said Mom finally, deciding that her rant was finished. I got up and, without saying goodbye, I walked up the stairs and went to my room, which was thankfully right at the top of the house.
I was so glad that I had my own floor and it served as my sanctuary, the one place that I could hide away without anyone’s eyes on me. I could just be. I got out of my uniform and jumped into the shower, grateful for the hot beads of water that washed over my skin and eased the tension from my muscles. I stayed in the shower longer than usual, thinking over the long day I’d had.
It had been a pretty typical day, swim practice early in the morning, followed by a bunch of boring classes, chilling with my friends and then getting nagged at by Mom. My eyes snapped open as the image of the girl with the ginger hair from earlier entered my mind. I turned off the shower and stepped out onto the mat, drying my body and my hair with my new soft towels.
I smirked as I thought about the look on her face when Amber and I started making fun of her. Truth be told, she was dressed like a bit of a slob. Which was a shame really because her face told another story. She had the potential to be really hot if she actually put the effort into styling her ginger hair, which fell in curly ringlets around her heart-shaped face.
I’d lived here since I was born and had never seen her before, so could tell from the instant that I laid eyes on her that she was an outsider. If her clothes hadn’t been proof enough, the way that she spoke to Amber definitely was. Like me, Amber was another person that people didn’t dare cross because her family, the Carmichael’s, were as petty and vengeful as they came.
Would she be starting at Valley High? That would be weird considering term had started already. Something about her reeked of trouble, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. If she did show up at school, I’d have to keep an eye on her to make sure that she knew her place and didn’t step out of line. Because if one person did, then other people would think that they could do the same shit, and that was less than desirable.
After getting dressed, I settled into my armchair and plugged my earphones in. Once the smooth sound of jazz flooded my ears, the only sound that could calm me down and help me escape reality, I took out my sketchpad and pencil and started sketching. My hand flew across the paper as if it had a mind of its own.
I’d always loved art, but my parents had never seen the merit in it because it wasn’t ‘academic’ enough and the Ivy’s wouldn’t care (even though I disagreed, my parents obviously knew better). This meant that my pieces were confined to my bedroom in either my various sketchpads or on the canvases tucked beneath my bed.
It was the one thing I had that was completely mine, that my parents couldn’t take away from me or fully control, even if they wanted to.
