OUTCAST: A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

“
T
hey’re staring at us
,” I stated, without turning my head to face him.

“
I
know
,” he answered. “Sorry.”

T
hen he started
to walk towards the exit, away from the gym, away from me.

I
was left alone
in the rafters. The girls figured that the
show
was over, so they resumed their practice. Finn gave me the thumbs up and he rejoined his teammates.

T
he world was right again
.

B
ut somehow
, I started to feel something strange, something that emanated from my gut and quickly surged throughout my body.

A
n ominous feeling
.

A
portent
of things to come.

T
he world was right again
... but somehow, I felt that mine was about to change.

T
he delicious smell
of beef stew emanated from the kitchen, and it quickly spread throughout the first floor of our two-story house. That dish was my Aunt Susan’s specialty, and to be greeted with its smell as soon as I got home, from a tiring day of school and cheerleading practice, was truly very comforting.

M
y dad was sitting
on the sofa at the right side of the door when I arrived. He was reading the latest issue of Newsweek Magazine.

“
H
ey Pops
,” I greeted him as I dropped my bag near the base of the stairs in front of the door.

“
T
hirty-one percent
!” he yelled at me.

“
H
uh
?” I uttered, befuddled by what he said.

“
T
hirty-one percent
of Americans who did not finish college are unemployed,” he explained. “That’s like more than a quarter of the adult population in the country.”

“
T
hat’s a sad fact
, Dad,” I replied. “Thanks for sharing it with me as soon as I got home, still tired from a hard day at school.”

H
e didn’t pay
attention to my sarcastic response.

“
O
nly fourteen percent
of college graduates, however, don’t have jobs,” he added.

“
I
will keep
that in mind,” I told him as I started to walk towards the dining table, excited about dinner. I was starving.

“
D
o
you see how important college is, Andrea Higgins?” my dad said as he stood up from his seat. He called me by my complete name, which only meant that he was dead serious. “College is your key to a more secure future.”

“
U
huh
,” I said as I grabbed a spoonful of mashed potato and gobbled it up quickly.

“
A
ndrea
, wait for all of us to be at the table so we can pray before eating supper,” he reminded me.

I
t has always been
a family tradition, to sit around the table and say our graces before enjoying our meal. My dad was ultra-conservative.
Born and bred with time-honored values
, he proudly proclaimed more than once. He wanted us to observe his customs with him.

U
s
, meaning my mother - and after she passed away, my stepmother - and I. Nash excluded.

N
ash seldom - as in very
, very, very rarely - ate dinner with us. Ever since my dad married Aunt Susan some four years ago and she moved in with her then fifteen year old son, Nash has always been distant.
He’s a loner
, Aunt Susan once said,
please forgive him but he never means any disrespect
.

M
y dad would’ve preferred otherwise
. But he didn’t want to interfere.
He’s your son
, he told her,
I don’t intend to replace his dad but I could always be a father for him if he wants me to
.

U
nfortunately
, Nash never showed any sign that he wanted my dad to be his father as well.

O
n his way
to the table, my father noticed my cheerleader uniform.

“
W
hat’s that
?” he asked, pointing to what I was wearing.

“
D
ad
, it’s our uniform. Cheerleading practice. Remember?” Though I’ve been with the squad for three days now, it was the first time I actually got to wear their official attire. The previous days, I had to settle for a loose shirt and a pair of leggings because the school’s tailor hasn’t delivered my uniform yet.

“
I
t’s too short
,” he remarked as his eyes narrowed, carefully scrutinizing the number of inches above my knees to where the skirt ended.

“
I
t’s not
like I’m wearing a thong underneath,” I told him.

“
S
o
, what are you wearing underneath?” he asked, curiously and incredulously.

“
N
othing
,” I kidded him.

“
W
hat
?!” he screamed. His eyes widened like they were going to pop.

“
I
’m just joking
, Dad,” I said. “I’m wearing tights. You know... like shorts, only... tighter.”

H
e heaved a sigh of relief
.

“
I
never understood
the need for cheerleaders,” he shared. “Cheering for the team... isn’t that the audience’s function?”

I
kept quiet
. I agreed with him. I always believed that cheerleading was such a superfluous concept. But in the hierarchy of High School life, being a cheerleader wasn’t just service for the alma mater. It was a social symbol, a mark, a status of belonging.

I
questioned that
, too. But Finn talked me into it.
Just try it
, he said,
you might grow to love it. Besides, it’ll be a chance to spend more time together
.

H
e was right
. Most of his free time were usually spent for basketball practice. By joining the cheerleading squad, I had a reason to be with him as our practice almost always coincided with theirs, in the same gymnasium at that.

D
ad
and I sat on our respective seats. Aunt Susan came out of the kitchen carrying a pot of the dish she has prepared.

“
Y
ey
! Beef stew!” I animatedly exclaimed.

“
P
ot roast
, actually,” she corrected me.

“
D
oesn’t matter
. Both are
delish!
” I replied.

I
nstinctively
, I snatched the serving spoon and I was about to dip it into the pot when my father interrupted me yet again.

“
A
ndrea
... you know what we should do first,” he menacingly reminded me.

A
s soon as
Aunt Susan sat on her chair, we started to say grace. Dad led the prayer. He thanked the Lord for all the blessings we have received and for the sumptuous meal that was laid on the table for us to enjoy. Usually, his prayers stop there. But at that moment, he added a few more lines.

“
A
nd Lord
, please guide my daughter Andrea at this crucial time in her life,” he recited, “when temptations are many and the will is not yet strong. Please, let her remember that the choices she will make at this point of her existence will define her future. Please guide her in making the right decisions.”

“
A
men
,” I uttered prematurely.

H
e gave me a dagger look
.

“
A
nd please help
her through this stage of rebellion...”

W
hat
?! Me? In a stage of rebellion?
If I was such a rebel, then why do I always feel super guilty whenever I accidentally flush my sanitary napkins down the toilet?

“
P
lease give
her the patience she so desperately needs to overcome the trials and tribulations that will come her way. These we ask, in Your Name, Amen.”

“
A
men
!” I repeated, with a hint of jubilation in my voice, happy that I could already eat my dinner.

A
s I was munching
on Aunt Sarah’s superbly delicious pot roast, she took that opportunity to ask about Nash.

“
H
ave
you seen your stepbrother lately?” There was concern in her tone.

I
wanted
to tell her the truth, that Nash was at my school a few hours ago. But that would beget another question: what was he doing there? To which, if I were to be honest, I’d answer:
well, he’s spying on the cheerleaders with their short skirts and shapely legs
. That wouldn’t help anyone.

“
N
o
, I haven’t seen him today,” I lied.

“
I
’m getting
a little worried about him,” she continued. “I haven’t seen him since last week, and that was just for a few minutes. He just went up to his room and hurriedly left. He didn’t even stop to say hi to me.”

N
ash has been quite
busy - though I don’t think that’s the appropriate word for it - as of late. Sure, he didn’t join us for dinner, but at least, he was home most of the time... either holed up in his room playing his video games with the volume turned to max, or smoking - stick after stick after stick - in the garden while he’s lost in this thoughts. The past two weeks, however, he was rarely at home.

C
ome to think of it
, I haven’t seen him at home... at all.

T
he only times
I saw him were during the past three days, up there in the stands, watching us practice our cheerleading routines.

T
he past three days
.

W
as
it a coincidence that he started stalking the girls the moment I began practicing with them?

“
H
ave
you tried reaching his number?” I suggested by way of a question.

“
Y
es
,” Aunt Susan answered. “But he doesn’t reply to my texts. And when I try to call him, it’s either he doesn’t pick up or his phone’s off.”

“
I
wouldn’t worry too
much about him, Hon,” my dad tried to reassure her. “He’s practically a grown-up, and an able-bodied man at that. He can handle his business.”

A
ble-bodied
, indeed.

I
felt
a tinge of shame for that simple thought.

“
Y
es
, that’s true,” Aunt Susan agreed. “But I’m more concerned about the things he has been up to. What if he’s preoccupied with something dangerous? What if he has befriended some bad company?”

“
T
rust
,” my father said. “You will just have to trust him to make the right decisions.”

U
hm
... shouldn’t I be deserving of the same kind of trust too? I mean, Nash was the one who has been acting suspiciously, yet I was the one who had to be the subject of his prayers.

“
I
guess you’re right
,” she told him. “Let’s just... let’s just hope for the best for him.”

“
W
e will
,” he confirmed.

I
was so
full after finishing my dinner, but somehow, I felt even more tired than when I arrived from school. I excused myself from the table and proceeded to my room upstairs.

M
y cheerleading uniform
was still damp with sweat. It has been a physically taxing day, and I dreaded having to go through the same come tomorrow.

I
removed
my uniform and threw it on the floor. I reminded myself to wash it later. It was my only set as the school’s tailor hasn’t finished the rest.

G
arbed
in only my bra and my tights, I approached the full body mirror at the side of my bed. I looked at myself and tried to admire my form... my petite frame, my average-sized breasts, my flat tummy, the smoothness of my skin however pale it might be, my long, light brown hair which would look good in a pony tail when I perform our routines...

I
was
, by no means, perfect. Physically, I had a lot of flaws... a birthmark just below my left hip, the mark of a scar below my knee which served as a constant reminder of a bicycle accident I had when I was ten, my legs which - though slender - weren’t exactly attractively curvaceous...

B
ut Finn
never complained about them.

O
ne time
, when I shared my insecurities to him, he just told me that I was nitpicking.

Y
ou’re perfect
the way you are
, he said with sincerity and conviction... and I believed him.

H
ow could I not
?