Doesn't Play Well With Others

By Casey Harvell

From Amazon Bestselling and USA Today Recommended Author Casey Harvell: Disclaimer: This book is for mature audiences (18+) ONLY due to seriously excessive foul language and minor sex and violence.
     Selene Warren has it rough. After her mom passes when she's little, she gets stuck with her aunt (a crack-whore.) Life with Selene's aunt lacks any type of love or support. Selene constantly struggles and when she turns fifteen her aunt is diagnosed with H.I.V. It soon becomes apparent that her aunt expects her to take over the family business and Selene runs for dear life.
     She manages pretty well for a couple years. One day she saves a scruffy looking kid from a window. Before she knows it she adopts a stray of her own. Life seems a bit better until Selene gets stabbed trying to protect the kid.
     Selene makes it, but discovers the kid is no normal runaway--he's the only son of a VERY rich and prominent family. A new friend comes forward to clear Selene of possible kidnapping charges, but for the life of her Selene can't figure out why the hell a rich kid would rather live on the streets than on a ritzy estate.
     Alex wants to break down the walls around Selene so badly. Selene's life leaves her with no room to trust anyone. For as long as she can remember she's had to rely on herself. Will Selene be able to escape her degenerate world? Because she doesn't play well with others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Harvell
• Release date: Aug 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501410000

Casey Harvell

Casey Harvell is an up and coming indie author. She lives in the Hudson River Valley of New York State with her husband and their two sons. Casey is slightly zombie obsessed and known to use the word 'boom' frequently. She is currently hard at work on the sequels to her series and a couple of stand alone novels. Keep an eye out for Shocked early June 2014! Find out more on http://caseyharvell.com

Book preview

Fuck This

Prologue

Fuck this. In fact, fuck everything. I’m sick of everyone and everything. People everywhere just suck. Really.

I get that I sound like every other teenager ever. The problem is that I’m not—like every other teenager that is. Sure, I see them around. Their biggest concerns revolve around clothes, cars, sports and tests. Silly me—I’m too busy worrying about finding a safe place to sleep tonight. So yeah…fuck them all.

Taking Strays

chapter 1

How does this happen? How the fuck does a seventeen year old girl have nothing and no one? I manage to slip through the cracks because I like it that way. No state-run foster bullshit for this girl. No nothing for this girl.

My dad bails before I even came to be. It’s not all that surprising considering that my mom was a crack whore before she died. She left me to my aunt though…which sounds great, except that my Aunt Barbara is a rock-monster/hooker too. She did a crap-ass job raising me until two years ago. When my aunt contracts HIV (and it begins to show) she couldn’t sell her infected-ass anymore. She lets it be known that fifteen is old enough to jump on the family whoring bandwagon—that I’d be responsible for supporting us and her habit. I pack my bag for school with my meager possessions and never look back. I may be the daughter and niece of whores, but I sure as fuck won’t become one.

I wait on the corner for a little while and scout the vacant (condemned) house across the street. Some nights I get lucky enough to find a place to myself. Others I have to barricade off a room before I feel safe enough to sleep. I’ve been lucky so far. Between my boots and my pocket knife I keep my virginity firmly intact.

The streetlights click on and so far no other homeless folk stumble upon my possible new digs. I quickly sneak around the back and look for a loosely boarded window. After I bang a few times I get one to fall inside and climb in before I replace it. I flick on my small flashlight to get a better look around.

The inside of these places are always the same. It’s dark, gross and graffiti covered. A few discarded needles lay in one corner. They lead me to think I better barricade the door tonight regardless. This place obviously isn’t under the radar.

I move up the creaky steps to the top floor. For some reason I always feel safer upstairs. After a quick check of all the rooms I pick one that has a non-boarded window (and no way for anyone to climb up outside.) If I need a fast escape I can always hang and drop.

The first thing I do (after I barricade the fucking door) is get out the newspaper I found earlier. I lay the pages flat on the floor before I place my sleeping-bag on top. I eat my dinner (a bag of fucking chips) and pull out the book I found at the park last week. It’s not really my type of read, but it’s better than nothing. It’s better than my thoughts. Anything is better than my thoughts.

It only takes a few pages before my eyes grow heavy. This lifestyle drains the soul right out of a person. I steal what I need. It sucks, but I’m good at it and there’s really no other way for me to get stuff. You know…like food—that shit you need to stay alive.

When I first left my aunt I tried to stay with a friend—my best friend Katie, actually. She had it all, but you can’t fault her for it. She’s one of those genuinely nice people. I had a really nice few days with her family before Aunt Barb showed up and hauled me away. After that I had no choice. My escape plan broadens and Katie even gives me her entire summer savings to run. I never tell her where I’m going because even I didn’t know. All I knew is it had to be away.

Whenever I think about the past it brings me down. I shove the book and flashlight back into my backpack and try to get some sleep.

brokenstar

I wake up fucking hungry. It’s still dark out and if I move my ass I may be able to make it to the soup kitchen across town. Sure, you have to listen to all of their religious bullshit and try-to-fix-you spiel. Just once I want to tell them why when they tell me to go home. They say ‘nothing’s that bad.’ Well, I bet when I say I’m expected to join the family crack-whore business they’ll shut up.

For all of her issues I wouldn’t be here if my mom made it. She had a good heart and she loved me. The first four years of my life I can remember being loved. She never wanted me to have that kind of life. Before she died she made me promise. I try the best I can.

It doesn’t take long for me to remove the barricade and slip back out to the street. The morning air holds a chill though the sky begins to change to a purplish hue. I shuffle along because I have some time to kill. I like it when it’s like this anyway. It’s quiet—the normal hustle and bustle still sleeps. Only a few souls make their way to and fro. Like me they don’t want to be bothered. It’s our unspoken code.

The high school gives me pause. I stop and reminisce as I stare. Even in the garish care of my aunt school was an escape. I had Katie and at least one solid meal. The library would be open late. I’d spend hours there after Katie went home. Now I don’t even have that.

I round the corner slowly, lost in thought when an odd noise catches my attention. There’s an ass—literally—and a set of flailing legs and feet hanging from one of the windows around the side of the high school. A few milk crates lay in a scatter below the feet that kick about. The window’s up kind of high (maybe to my shoulders) and the legs are awfully small.

Normally I’m not a ‘helpful’ person. To be honest—if I wasn’t ninety-nine percent sure that this is a kid, I’d keep right on going. Instead I walk through the open fence gate and approach the window. Shit, I’m not fucking heartless.

I grab the small legs and there’s a scream. Shh! You really want to make a scene right now? Stay still for a second. I say.

The body goes limp and I pry the window open far enough to release the kid—right on top of me. I study him for a moment while my lungs learn to accept air again.

He’s maybe ten years old. His hair’s greasy and longish. It covers more than half of his brown eyes which are way too big and endearing. His clothes are filthy and torn. Basically he looks like a boy-kid version of me.

He seems to get over his shock first. Thanks. He rolls off of me.

No problem. I say while he takes an assessment of me.

His eyes travel to my bag. You’re not from around here. It’s a statement, not a question.

I shake my head. I’m just here for a while.

Oh. Me too, I guess. He looks around and seems wary as the sky starts to brighten.

Just then the grumble of his belly makes its presence known. The window suddenly makes sense. My guess is he wants food and the cafeteria had been his goal. I’m going over across town to grab a bite from those church folks. You can join me if you want. I’m fairly sure that this kid’s on his own.

He shrugs. Okay.

We go back out the open gate and make our way across town. He doesn’t talk much which is fine by me. It’s not until we hit the block with the food kitchen that he stops. The sun shines bright overhead now.

Are you coming? I ask him.

He shakes his head vigorously. I can’t. You’re a teenager at least. Me? They’ll make me stay.

I completely understand. Wait here.

The doors are open so I hang my head low and step inside. I don’t want to draw any suspicions so I grab all that they’ll give for one meal. Everything dry (and an applesauce cup) goes into my bag for the kid. I choke down the overcooked oatmeal and swig down some orange juice. It might not be much, but it’s hot and my stomach’s fuller than it’s been in days. I’ll take it. I deposit my tray and move back towards the door.

I almost make it before the church pastor sees me. Before he can get started I quickly excuse myself on the pretense of someone waiting for me. I’m not even lying for once.

It doesn’t surprise me that the kid’s still there when I get back. His stomach wouldn’t have let him go if he wanted to. I motion for him to follow me and we walk a few blocks away. We find a park and sit down on a bench as the rest of the world begins to waken.

Here. I hand him the food. He tears into it with fervor. When’s the last time you ate, kid? I can’t help but ask.

He shrugs. A few days ago.

I consider this. Do you have a name?

I’m Henry. He says.

I’m Selene. He grunts because his mouth is full again. So are you, you know, alone and shit? I try to sound nonchalant. He nods now. Maybe—if you want—we can be alone together?

He swallows big and looks at me with those damn eyes of his. What’s the catch?

Kid’s smart. No catch. I look down. "You don’t have to. It just might be easier with two of us."

He looks at me for a second then down to the food in his hand. Yeah. Maybe that’d be easier.

Just like that I got myself a stray. Son of a bitch.

brokenstar

Henry follows me around all day. With our similar features we can probably pass as siblings. We don’t get bothered much. Halfway through the day I manage to grab the kid a new shirt and pair of pants. Next it’s a couple bags of beef jerky and some water. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m damn good at using my five-finger discount.

I take the kid to the park in the afternoon (after school’s out) and let him run around and be a kid for a while. First he looks at me like I’m crazy. Eventually he concedes to the other kids his age and has fun. Maybe we have to leave in a hurry after he drops the f-bomb and pisses some overbearing mom off, but he still has fun.

Wait here for a second. I say and duck into the park’s bathroom. It’s empty so I grab out my washcloth and clean up. I’ll have to tackle my hair tomorrow or something. I guess I should wait until then to give the kid his clothes.

I walk back out to tell him to at least scrub down when inspiration hits. Come on.

I lead him to the fountain. There’s only a few people around, it’s unseasonably warm and let’s face it—the kid needs to clean up something fierce.

Take off your shoes and socks. I instruct. He does. Now jump in. I motion to the fountain.

Seriously? He asks and looks at me like I’m crazy.

I’m dead-ass. Take this, too. I hand him a bar of soap. It’s one of those small hotel ones that won’t matter if it makes it out or not.

He takes the soap and jumps in. At first he continues to watch me like I’m going to suddenly change my mind. I sit and patiently wait for him remove layer after layer of dirt. Henry relaxes more with every layer he sheds. By the time he’s done he’s just a kid who plays in a fountain. I figure that’ll do until I can submerge him tomorrow. I drag him to the (still empty) bathroom and make him change in the stall so I can wash the clothes he has on out in the sink the rest of the way. I wring them as dry as possible.

The sun hangs low after our park adventure. I decide it’s time to find our crash place for the night. Henry tugs on my arm when I tell him. We have to stop somewhere first.

I’m skeptical but hell, the kid hasn’t asked for a fucking thing all day. Alright, I’ll bite. Where?

Trust me, you won’t be sorry.

Those are words I don’t typically fall for…only there’s something about the look in his eyes when he says it. The sincerity there has me agree and I let him lead me through the maze of streets.

We get to the busier part of town—a place I always avoid this time of day. I’m grateful that Henry sticks to back alleyways and we only have to cross a busy sidewalk once or twice. He stops at a door (that looks just like all the other doors) and knocks three times.

The door swings open and blocks my view of the person or people behind it. Hey kid. You’re late today and didn’t even show yesterday. I was getting worried. A male voice answers.

Sorry, Alex. I couldn’t. Henry says.

Well you at least got to give the restaurant a call, okay? Something to let me know you’re alright out there. Henry doesn’t answer, but I see his feet shuffle. It’s bad enough that I know you’re out here and don’t turn you in. It’s not safe for a kid your age out here alone.

Actually, I’m not alone anymore. Aw, shit. I fucking hate introductions. My friend Selene’s with me now. Can she have some food too, please?

Great. The voice mumbles. Now I have two fucking kids on my conscience instead of one.

Before I can run down the alley (and let’s face it, I’m not ditching the kid) the door moves and a head pokes around. The face attached to it automatically pisses me off and his surprise is painfully obvious.

Oh! He says. Sorry, you’re not a little kid.

Nope. I say curtly. Henry go ahead and take your food. We need to get going.

No—it’s okay I mean. We have plenty. Give me a sec. The guy disappears back through the door.

I turn to Henry and whisper. Listen kid, if we’re going to stick together you have to get one thing straight. I don’t like people. This He looks surprised while I motion in between the two of us, is atypical behavior for me.

What’s that mean? Fuck.

It’s not normal. Just try not to introduce me to people if you can help it. I hiss quietly. He looks sad and I feel like I get kicked in my stomach. Double fuck. It’s okay though. The food thing is awesome.

Henry looks up at me hopefully. Yeah?

Totally— I’m cut off when the guy walks back out the open door.

Here you go. That should keep you two for a few days. The bag he hands me is fucking huge. There’s way more food here then we need for tonight.

Thanks. I mumble. C’mon Henry.

Thanks, Alex. I’ll see you tomorrow! Henry gives him a wave and takes off after me. The guy watches next to his door until we round the corner.

brokenstar

Despite my aversion to spending two nights in a row in one spot, I take Henry back to the house I crash in last night. He argues when I make him wait by a scraggly bush in the back yard, but all I can think about are those needles. If someone beat us here I can fight better on my own. I kick in the same window and go through with my pocket knife and flashlight ready. It’s still empty and I kick the needles down an old heating grate before I go back for Henry. The kid’s smart but no way does he need to be around those.

I hop back out to get him and our stuff inside. Against Henry’s protest I drag us upstairs and barricade the door before we sit down. I let him start to eat while I do my usual newspaper and sleeping-bag deal. With that done I string some twine up (which I keep for exactly this purpose) from one wall to another and secure it on some screws sticking out of the wall. I hang Henry’s tattered clothes to dry in case he happens to need a change again. Maybe tomorrow I can grab him another pair and we can throw these out. Without the rags he looks like a normal kid.

Are you going to eat? He asks me. I concede to his eagerness (and the fucking fabulous smell) and sit down next to him.

What do we got? I ask.

Henry begins pointing and I have to admit that this Alex guy hooks us up. There’s enough bread to last us a few days and there’s even butter. Fucking butter! Do you know how long it’s been since I had that shit?

That alone would be a treasure, but we have a ton more hot food. More than we could possibly eat in one night. How’d he get all of this? Won’t he get in trouble?

Henry shrugs. Not really. His parents own the place and this is all from yesterday. They just throw it out anyway so Alex saves some for me and anyone else who might need it for a day or two in the fridge. They can’t serve it, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

Alex looks like one of those do-gooder types too. Son of a bitch. There’s no way we can eat this all tonight. It’d be cool if we have somewhere to keep it fresh, but there’s no power here. Since being on my own I have a MAJOR problem with wasting food.

I eat my share in silence and we rifle through the rest. An idea dawns on me. Henry, can you stay here for a little while alone? It’s a silly question—I found the kid alone just this morning.

He shrugs. I guess, why?

I can go hand these out real quick. I motion to the small pile of hot food behind us. Why’d he give us so much?

He probably thinks you have a fridge. Henry points out.

Well, color me the picture of fucking responsibility. Alright. We can keep all that. The bulk of what remains in the bag’s bread and butter but there’s a few baked goods in there too. Have a couple cookies if you want and keep the door locked. I’ll be back in a half hour or so. You’ll have to let me in when I get back. I motion to the barricade.

How’re you going to get out? Henry looks at me in confusion.

I take one of my own plastic shopping bags (fucking things always come in handy) and put the meals I’m taking inside. Then I open the window. When I say, drop it down to me. Keep the window open, but try to stay out of sight, okay? When I get back I’ll call up before I come inside so you know it’s me.

Okay. He walks over to the window and his eyes pop. Selene, there’s nothing but the ground out there!

I chuckle. It’s been a long time since someone gave a shit about me. It’s okay, kid. I’m used to it. I need you to promise me one thing though. If you hear someone else come in you have to get out. Wait for me close by, but don’t stay inside. The barricade is good for stalling but it won’t keep anyone out who wants in badly enough.

How am I supposed to do that? He asks.

Just watch me do it. I push my feet and butt out the window first (much like I found Henry this morning) and allow myself to slowly back out until I hang down. I let go and fall the few feet left to the ground. I even land on my feet. Got it, kid? I call as loudly as I dare.

He nods, but doesn’t seem so sure. I hope if it comes down to it that he listens.

Alright, drop the bag. He does and I catch it before it splats the ground.

Selene? Henry calls quietly into the now darkness.

What, kid?

Be careful.

I have the feeling he hasn’t said that in as long as I’ve heard it. I will, kid. I’m glad it’s too dark for him to see the tears that form in my eyes. You, too.

brokenstar

It doesn’t take long to hand out the meals at the park. Even though I fucking hate people I hate the idea of wasting food even fucking more. At least now a few folks have a good meal in their bellies tonight. I walk back quickly and quietly through the darkness. I avoid the street lamps to avoid detection and slink into the last shadow when I hear something move inside the downstairs of the house. A distinctive thump. The house the kid’s fucking inside. I know because I see him at the window upstairs. Motherfucker.

I stand below the window—around the side of house from both doors. You have to jump kid! I say softly to get his attention through the open window. I hope the boards that cover the downstairs ones beside me muffle the sound.

I can’t, Selene. I’m sorry. He looks so sad that I can’t be mad at him.

Alright, grab our stuff and hide. I’ll be up in a minute.

He nods and I try to formulate a plan. All I can do is try to distract them, right? I look up. Take my flashlight and go hide, Henry!

He springs into action and I grab my knife. Fuck it. I guess I’ll just wing it.

I bang on the wall next to one of the non-boarded windows loudly. Then I wait. Sure enough, someone inside approaches it and I bang again loudly so there’s no mistaking that someone’s out here. If these are the drug addicts I suspect they’re probably super paranoid already. Unfortunately most addicts are pretty dangerous if someone gets between them and their addiction of choice. If I’m lucky I won’t have to test that theory. If I can just scare them off.

I wait until the two of them are outside. I run past them purposefully to make sure they see me and hide in the shadows while they race by. I have to get the kid and get the fuck out of here fast. I never should’ve fucking left him to begin with.

It puzzles me a little because obviously Henry got along fine before me. I don’t know for how long exactly, but judging by the layers of dirt