Page 29 of Reviving Kendall

What the actual fuck?

“Are you serious right now?” I ground out before I can stop myself. “And why me of all people Mr. Brooks? Because of where I live? Because both of my parents are in jail?”

“Stop blowing things way out of proportion Ms. Davis,” he replies in a monotone voice as if he hears the same teenage bullshit day in and day out.

I sigh, “Can I please just have my punishment, so I can go back to class?”

He shakes his head and hands me a pink slip of paper, “You need to gather your belongings and leave school grounds. You’re suspended for three days for fighting.”

Feeling the shock on my face, I try to maneuver it into a more neutral ‘don’t give a fuck’ stare.

“Is there someone we can call to come pick you up, Kendall?” Mrs. Carpenter asks softly.

Staring at her for a second, I finally say, “No ma’am. My Gramps is probably at the doctor right now. I’ll be fine.”

She nods, and I gather up my stuff that I was smart enough to bring with me from the bathroom. When I walk out of the office, it’s with my head held high. That only lasts so long, because it’s drizzling rain outside. I take a deep breath of fresh air and steel my nerves.

Pulling out my phone, I send out a group text to the guys.

I’m sorry.

Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black if I stay pissed at Maverick for overreacting, when I just did the same exact thing. I’m not in the mood for their responses, so I turn the phone on vibrate and stuff it in my pocket. Thankfully, I’m not carrying much today that it will hurt to get wet. I tighten the leather jacket around my body and step out into the rain.

It’s a long walk home and I’m soaked to the bone when I get there. The Malibu is missing from the driveway, so Robert must still have Gramps at the doctor. I’m worried fucking sick over his health. I know he doesn’t have much longer left, but he’s giving it every fighting chance. Any thought of it makes me want to puke.

I let myself into the house and head straight to the shower. I need to get my temperature up pronto, and chase these chills away, or I’m going to end up sick as a dog. After my shower, I don’t bother doing anything other than crawling underneath my covers and falling right to sleep.

It feels like it’s only been a few minutes when I hear Gramps calling out for me. I groan and twist myself up further into my blankets like a burrito.

“Kendall?” he calls again.

If I don’t get my ass up, he’ll have to come get me or what if something is wrong? I jerk up so fast that I go tumbling back to the floor again with an ‘oomph’. Unwrapping from my blanket, I stumble to the doorway where I promptly crack my pinky toe on the corner of the wall.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” I try to keep it quiet since Gramps isn’t a huge fan of cussing.

I hop on one foot down the short hallways, “What is it Gramps? Are you ok?”

For the first time in years, an actual smile passes over his face. “Everything is fine, but you may want to go put some more clothes on. We have company.”

I’d been so focused on making sure that he was ok, that I completely miss Goose sitting on the couch across from Gramps’ chair.

“Shit,” I say, back tracking down the hallway, but not before I watch him get an eyeful of me head to toe. I’m in my usual sleep stuff, a tank top and pair of boy shorts, so he doesn’t see more than if I was in a one-piece swimsuit, but still.

Gramps is laughing too hard to correct me, even though wheezing and trying not to cough is more like it. I throw on the first thing that my fingers land on, an old Metallica shirt with holes all in it and a pair of cutoff jeans that I normally mow grass in. Fuck it. He knows I’m not rich, so why should I pretend to be. My hair probably looks like I have a whole family of rats living in it from not brushing after the shower, but I don’t care about that either. Having Goose in the house is making me anxious and I just want to rush him off as soon as I can.

When I make it back to the living room, Goose is helping Gramps up from his chair. I stick out my arm on the other side to help.

“Thank you,” he says out of breath from just standing up. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit, Kendall. You and your young man are welcome to stay here in the living room.” I take that to mean that I’m not allowed to have him in my bedroom, so I nod that I understand.

“Need help getting there?” I ask.

He smiles sadly at me and shakes his head, “No, but I would like to know why you were home from school early today. Were you sick?”

I hate to disappoint him, but I have to tell him the truth, “No sir. I got suspended for three days, because I punched Stacey Marsh in the face.”

In most cases parents would chastise a child for fighting. Gramps looks like he’s fighting a smile, “Did she deserve it?”

I nod, “She’s a dirty twunt and wouldn’t quit saying bad shit about Nana.”

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