Defiant

Part One: I accidentally blew up my dad’s car.

My name is Cassie Blake, and the past year has been the worst of my life. I’m not a bad kid. Or at least not bad enough to go where I was sent. A couple of months ago, I was forced to go to a rehabilitation school called Blackstone Prep. A place bad kids get ‘helped’. And in my case, help didn’t mean sweet and loving care.

I should tell you why I was sent there. The whole story, embarrassing parts and all.

I was thirteen when the fights started, my parents throwing things across the room, yelling, cursing, and leaving for days at a time. My brother Dylan and I were practically invisible, and we couldn’t take it.

You know how teenagers do dumb things? Well, I did something like that. A bottle of hair dye and a ton of misgivings later, the tips of my blonde hair were blue. I wanted attention from my parents, and acting out—something that was totally unlike me—got me what I wished for. My parents stormed out of the room, even angrier than usual.

My seventeen-year-old brother, Dylan, freaked out. He packed his bags and disappeared. My stunt made him realize he couldn’t take it anymore either. That our messed-up home hurt him, too. So he ran. And that nagging feeling of guilt—the guilt that I might’ve caused my big brother to run away—was gnawing at me. My mom cried nonstop, and my dad got pissed, disappeared, and came back the next morning a drunken mess. I was furious. What happened to adults helping kids through hard times? Did they even care if I was coping?

In the afternoon, my dad took me out. He was trying to win me over since Dylan was gone. His leaving snapped my parents out of their bubble of obliviousness. They realized their fights affected someone other than themselves, so they decided to split up for real. I would have to go with one of them, and after losing Dylan, neither wanted to lose me as well. My dad thought buying me things would make me pick him, and that made me mad. My brother disappeared, with only a text as to why he left, and somehow, shopping was going to fix that?

It was then that I realized in order to stay sane, I needed to leave, too. But I didn’t have a car or a license, no easy way to escape.

When my mom took me out right afterward, I was furious and betrayed. I went, of course, because…what if that could make it better? It became a routine, going out with a parent every day. Feeling loved for a minute, before becoming sad. I was so hopeful that it would all turn out okay. That Dylan would come back, and my parents would stop fighting and actually care for once. But it didn’t. Day after day, taking me out, buying me drinks; empty bribes to keep me. I think they did it just to show the other that I liked them better. I was caught in a horrible game of tug-of-war between my parents.

So I did something that I still don’t regret. I stole my dad’s keys and drove off in the middle of the night. No license. No permission. Nothing other than a wad of money that I took from my mom, along with some food, clothes, a backpack, water, and my phone. The last one is what got me caught… the phone. Ever heard of tracking locations? Well, that, and driving into a ditch on the side of the road.

I was in the wrong lane, narrowly avoiding cars, cursing at the blaring honks that split the air. I skidded, swerved away from a Honda, and nearly crashed into a light post. Then, blinking in the headlights that flooded my vision, I smashed into a rusty-looking car, a man in a large black hat looking at me in surprise. There was a screeching sound, and then my car was tipping off the road. It careened into a ditch with an earsplitting smash, and I was thrown backwards into my seat, then bouncing forward again like a pinball. I got a nice-sized welt on my head from the steering wheel, then after what felt like hours, I fumbled for the seat belt, unclicking it.

The door was yanked open, and a policeman pulled me to my feet. My head was pounding, and my arm was throbbing with pain. The cop loosened his grip on me, noting my traumatized state. My father showed up, with a purple face and red eyes. He gripped my arm, causing me to cry out, but he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t care that his little girl was injured, just that she was making him look bad!

I started crying. He slapped me. And I promised myself I would never cry again.

My dad dropped me off at the hospital and didn’t return. Turns out my arm wasn’t broken—it just felt like it.

I know I wasn’t thinking clearly, but can you blame me? Thirteen-year-olds do stupid things. And I don’t regret it, even a little bit. Just know that you would’ve done the same thing in my place.

In the hospital, the only company I had was the nurses. Even my mom didn’t come to visit. I was feeling heartbroken until I was woken by my brother. Sweet, sweet relief coursed through me. At least someone still loved me. He would make it all better. He always did.

“Hey, Cass,” he smiled—a soft, loving thing. That smile only he can do. “I love you, you know?” His green eyes shone. “And I might not see you for a while, but I won’t forget you, I swear.”

That moment still gives me strength. I don’t know why I’m sharing so much, opening up, being vulnerable. I just want you to understand, whoever you are, so I never have to go back to Blackstone again. So no one does.

Dylan left briskly, muttering about joining the army. I found myself hoping he would. I wanted him to be happy, and for Dylan, happiness was anywhere away from my parents. As much as I felt he was leaving me alone to whatever I’d have to face, I owed him that much.

I woke up in a hospital bed, ate a plain breakfast, and a letter of my admission to Blackstone Prep was handed to me. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but both my parents’ signatures were on the paper, which meant it was serious. Both of them agreeing rarely happened.

Soldiers in green army clothes–fatigues escorted me through the airport. It took about three hours just to get through to our gate. Security had a problem with the soldiers’ guns, saying they had no identification, while the soldiers drilled their ears off about military rights.

After waiting for a while and buying lunch, we finally boarded the plane. The soldiers didn’t even speak once. I sat there quietly, spiraling about what would happen to me. Did my parents care where I was going? Why hadn’t they come to say goodbye? Did they care about me, though I tried to run away? I spent all six hours in a panic about my future.

We landed in Arizona, and then, outside the airport, one of the soldiers finally spoke to me. “We are making a small stop at a hotel. You will sleep. Then, at zero five hundred, we will go to school.”

I wasn’t tired at all, but I curled up in a ball in the hotel bed anyway. At five o’clock, I was woken and shoved onto a way-too-bright school bus parked outside.

There were five kids on it. A girl with brown hair in a loose pony was sitting next to a boy with tousled black hair and a similar-shaped face. Two boys with ginger hair lounged in the seat across from them. A blonde girl paused mid-conversation with the brown-haired girl to give me a weird look, then motioned for me to sit. Timidly, I sat on the uncomfortable bench.

The boy with dark, messy hair stood. “Hey. Name’s Logan.” He took a dramatic bow and nearly tripped on his backpack.

The brown-haired girl elbowed him. “Act normal.” Her chocolate colored eyes flicked towards me. “I’m Allie.” She smiled shyly. “Sorry about my brother.”

The two other boys finally looked up. They were both redheads, one with textured red hair, while the other had an orange-colored flattened clump.

The blonde girl behind them smirked. Flipping a long curl over her shoulder, she rolled her gray eyes. “This doofus is Ronnie.” She poked Flat Head with a manicured nail.

“Ow.” Ronnie rubbed his shoulder, annoyed. He smiled awkwardly at me. “Yeah, I’m Ronnie.”

“And that one’s Luke.” The blonde girl glared at the red-haired one.

“Shut it, Hailey.” Luke’s nostrils flared. “No one wants to hear your voice.” he sneered.

“So, how do you all know each other?” I looked at the metal flooring of the bus.

The blonde girl smiled. “They were all in the foster care system together,” she said, motioning to the others. “Allie and Logan are siblings, and Luke and Ronnie are twins.”

“Sadly,” Luke muttered under his breath.

Allie looked up. “Hailey’s my best friend from the school my foster parents sent us to,” she said. “She and Luke shouldn’t be going to Blackstone; they didn’t do anything wrong.”

It took me a little to process that. I couldn’t understand why they would be on that bus if they didn’t have to. But I didn’t want to pry. I barely knew them.

“So…” Logan rested his arm on the faded leather bench, raising an eyebrow. “You got a name? How’d you end up here? Not trying to be creepy, but…the soldiers said you were picked up outside the hospital.”

I gulped. They didn’t seem bad, but I didn’t want to share much. They were being sent to Blackstone; there had to be some reason not to trust them.

“I’m Cassie,” I said, smiling a little. I racked my brain to think of a decent answer. “And what I went through is pretty boring. But I want to know what’s happening.” Yeah, I suck at lying.

A crooked grin spread across Logan’s face. “You’re a really great liar.” He winked. “I almost didn’t notice that you were avoiding my question!” His deep blue eyes twinkled.

He caught me. I explained myself, but tried not to show too much vulnerability. I was met with shocked glances and not-so-sneaky stares at my arm. I fidgeted with my backpack.

Luke and Ronnie were both glued to their screens, and when a burly man in a military vest walked up and grabbed their phones from their hands, outrage erupted.

“What the hell, dude!” Luke yelled. His eyes flicked over the guy. “That’s my phone.”

The soldier motioned for the rest of our phones. When the last one, mine, was handed in, he sneered at us and dropped them one by one on the floor. He stomped on each one, cracking the screens and making the lights flicker shut. My mouth hung open. My precious phone was broken. He picked them up, and offered them to us. When nobody reacted, he slipped them into a pouch on his belt.

Luke turned pink. The man turned around, crossing his arms. Luke rummaged through his bag and slipped something into one of the green pouches around the mans waist. A thick, foul-smelling smoke rose from the man’s pants. It made my eyes water, and my nose burn, but it was worth the look on the soldier’s face. Everyone, including me, erupted into choruses of laughter.

“Yo, who farted? I think I’m choking.” Luke called innocently.

The man turned around slowly, his ears bright red. We all fell silent. “Who did that?” he growled.

“You promised you would get rid of those.” Ronnie muttered elbowing Luke, who raised his eyebrows.

“Dude. What are you going to do?” Luke asked, “Send me to Blackstone? I’m already going!” He laughed. “It’s just a stink bomb, anyway. You broke my phone, so I’d say we’re even.”

The man shoved Luke against the metal wall with a clang, his face reddening. He muttered something, then huffed away. We all looked at each other, uncomfortable. We all wanted to stand up for Luke, or at least help him somehow. But it was impossible.

We weren’t friends yet, more like a unified front; we had each other’s backs, whether or not we liked each other. Maybe it was because we were all freaked out.

The countryside was blurring by the window, and the drive started to bite at me, minutes speeding by. I was itching to get out of the metal box confining me—did I mention I’m claustrophobic? I mean, the plane ride was already traumatic. Why did the world need to add to my list of problems?

“So what are the rest of you here for?” I asked, staring at Luke, who was rubbing his head.

“Shh!” The stink-bombed dude yelled from the front.

I was quiet because the dude was frightening to thirteen-year-old me, trapped on a bus with a bunch of kids I barely knew.

People don’t understand. Kids aren’t just going to respect someone because they’re intimidating. If you yell at us, or in my case, break our phones, you’re not getting yourself anywhere. You’ll just make us hate you. So that dude shoving Luke wasn’t helping anyone. You might think I’m a stupid kid, but this is my point of view, after what I’ve been through. I’m guessing you’ve been told some version of this, but you haven’t taken it to heart. I hope my story convinces you for the better.