Merit: Vayden's Valor

By Laikyn Meng

I tucked jealousy in my pocket for far too long.

 

Telling myself, it was easier to bite my tongue and get over it instead of the busted knuckles' worth of backlash.

 

Olallie deserved better than a best friend.

And I deserve better than playing second best.

 She was once my angel with blue eyes

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Orange 9 Publishing Company LLC
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798868907418

Book preview

Chapter 1

Vayden

I t wouldn’t be the worst thing that has happened to me. My fingertips grip the steering wheel tighter as Olallie carelessly drops the comment.

O? I beg for it to be wrong.

Hmm? She hums a mumble my way, so gentle.

I heard about your mom. My trembling hand reached over the small space in the truck and held her hand. I don’t want to bring up a past that burns her, but I need to know the hurt is real. Somehow, we have similar pain.

I was nine; we were outside. I was drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. Olallie doesn’t remove my hand as it tries to comfort wounds too deep to cover up.

You see the whole thing? I keep her talking as she nods, and I park next to the other cars at the party.

Olallie? Sometimes, her focus floats away, and her moments I want to belong to me are owned by her imagination.

Vayden, please, let it go. It was a long time ago; no one could save her. Every day I must continue to save myself. Because she sacrificed enough for me. Olallie has every second of my attention, and I bet the obsession isn’t a beautiful one.

Hey, I didn’t bring it up to make it harder. There is no space between us, and the hug line is a lie. I need one; I need to feel comfort from my own fears. It just looks like you could use a hug; come here.

How long do these last? She is slow to wrap her arms around my shoulders.

Another thirty seconds, O. My throat shakes as I utter the words.

Vayden, put me down, please. We shouldn’t bring up topics only devils recount. Moving my hair back under my hood. I love the way her words remain proper like she can’t take away this portion of herself that she was beaten to believe was the best version.

I place her back on the ground and wipe my wet eyes. The emotions getting the best of me.

I’m sorry, I don’t know how to comfort your pain. The process isn’t simple, easing away the edges. Di—Did you lose someone? Before she moves away from me too far, I reveal my own secrets.

My cousin died when we were boys; it was the summer we both turned twelve. He was in a wheelchair most of his life; his daddy was a drunk. One day, I went over to his house because my aunt needed to run to the store. My dad wanted to walk with me; he didn’t trust my aunt’s husband. They were always at each other’s throats.

Vay, you don’t have to share with me…. But I do; I need to share with someone because I need to know someone is listening to me. Someone understands even for a second the torture I can’t pretend isn’t happening inside of me.

Olallie, please could you hear mine, and maybe once I can feel like someone understands that I’m not alone?

Okay. Because she is the strongest woman I have ever known, and it freaks me out.

I tried to convince him I could go alone; I’d done it before. The more I reassured him, he got edgier and practically dragged me down the street to where they lived. My mind replays the things I won’t say out loud to anyone else. Saliva builds in my mouth, and I pucker my lips to spit it on the ground.

The sweat on my palms begins to grow; I am nervous enough to wipe it on my pants.

The bass from the music makes Olallie’s eyes squint; she pulls her fingers up to her ears to guard against the noise.

We didn’t get there in time; his dad was stumbling to get him into the bath. He forgot about him, and I obsess about those seconds that I wasted arguing with my dad. My dad kicked open the door; he started shouting at my uncle. I can still hear the water running in the background; it is lapping on top of itself.

It’s hard not to see every step I took that day.

When I get to the bathroom, it’s too late, too quiet. My dad comes up behind me and holds me back. But I try with all my might to push past him, to grab my cousin. He must have slipped trying to get out. There was a cut on the back of his head. He could only use his arms. But there, his face floated under the faucet. Dripping onto his forehead.

I find my knees on the ground, and I’m hyperventilating. Olallie lowers herself to my level.

It’s like I’m stuck in this time loop of watching him. Knowing I can never free him of that cycle. If I would have just gone sooner, if I would have agreed with him…

"If I wasn’t playing on the sidewalk if I wasn’t born with a sixty-percent hearing loss. If my grandparents didn’t die, if Knox didn’t get my mother pregnant. We could play what if until the moon bleeds, but it will never make a difference. The moments we were too young to understand but now want to change."

There is no solitude in the way I hang my head, ignoring her words.

It’s not your fault. The whisper is so wishful, I might think to consider it.

I wince at the words, my eyes find hers, and in the silence between beats, we connect with each other’s turmoil. Not in grace or splendor, but in fucking heartache.

We both grasp to hold onto the moments. I wrap Olallie under my arm, and I squeeze us tight close together. I struggle so hard to separate the little boy who couldn’t save his cousin from this young adult trying to be brave.

Baby brother, where are you? I grow nervous at my big brother’s voice. But it doesn’t stop me from crying along with my best friend.

Aye, there you guys are. Lawson was worried you two were in the back banging out introductions. Before I can cover up the snot and red eyes, Verse squats down beside me.

Verse, I think Vayden could use a drink or smoke. She sounds so smooth; I take away my arms to let her go on in normalcy.

Vay? You good, man? Slapping me on the arm.

Vayden? Haiku, what’s going on? Verse doesn’t get the hint, but I keep my head bowed in submission.

The silence extends for a few more minutes, and then we hear more footsteps approaching.

Vayden, we all survive for a reason. You overcame a lot; you’ll overcome more. One thing that you can focus on that keeps you going. Make them proud, your cousin, my mother. If we succeed at what they couldn’t, then they aren’t forgotten; they continue. I nod as her soft lips brush against my ear with this confession.

Olallie. Lawson’s voice is close by, but my friend places her hand over my heart. Verse, what the fuck is this? He is jealous, so enraged without being able to control this angel.

We’re going to be okay. Tapping her fingers again.

My shy grin is on display, and with that, she loosens her lips to give her own smile.

Let’s go, Olallie, Lawson commands with such raw anger it’s strange he has taken a liking to her.

We’re going inside, guys. Again, another order he wants followed, bossy little prick.

Vayden, do you need anything? My sweet girl, always making sure I am okay.

He’s fine. The asshole boyfriend a heartless bastard.

I’m good, sweetheart. I take out a blunt, level the flame to it for the first time, and inhale as deep as I can. Letting the smoke burn me alive in all the ways I wish would come true. I’ll be in a minute; my brother went to get me a drink.

I watch the foggy windows in Calhoun’s car start to sweat. It wasn’t the biggest reveal, at least for me. You begin to notice the signs of being in love with someone.

The way he admired Samson in ways, I have only pretended about the blonde beauty who keeps her head down away from the world.

Calhoun was a prince made to be king. He was indestructible yet so vulnerable to manipulation. First his sister, then Samson. But poor Samson wasn’t playing for their side. The Sonny boys only have one side, and now it’s Lawson’s.

Some suped-up gang of friends who think they will be future criminals is rewarded with the connections of daddy Krause.

Too bad my brother is so caught up in the wishful thinking he might be second-in-command.

I push myself to my feet and wobble a little light-headed to the trees. The night sky is bright with luscious stars; I mouth the words to the song I can hear. But it isn’t tempting enough to go and join the rest of the half-drunk teenagers in there.

Baby brother! Verse finds me like he always does. He isn’t the one stumbling around, high on bad weed that tastes like our grandmother’s microwaved leftovers.

What do you want, Verse?

Awe, is that any way to treat the person who has come to rescue you from your sorrows? He pushes a drink in my hand, and I take a sip, not caring for the taste.

You don’t need to babysit me. I stare at the halved moon.

Who says I don’t just want to hang out with my brother? It’s weird for him not to say baby brother.

What’s wrong with you? Verse actually comes to lean against the same tree next to me.

What was going on back there with you and Olallie?

What do you mean?

Why were you crying, bro? It isn’t hostile, like every other version of who he has become. It sounds honest in the tone of caring.

Does it matter?