Chapter 24, Not just average

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

A/N: Goldiessssss, I'm so tired. I just couldn't edit this, so please let me know of the mistakes you find so that I can correct them tomorrow morning! Thanksssss.... *makes dinosaur sounds before trudging back to bed*

I walk out of the room and light a cigarette immediately.

This is not part of faking it. Amber's not suppose to know me this well. She only knows me for what? Five days and already she can tell that I hate being the one that lives. Not even the inner-gang knows how much my father and brother's death has darkened me. How much I hate myself. 

What am I getting myself into?

I get back to the kitchen and grab a wet cloth to smear whatever Amber painted off of my face. It's red and I distinctly remember her saying that she doesn't paint in red... 

Did she get touched as well? And if so, I have to use that to my advantage.

"Did Amber fall for the loving mother act?" my mother asks.

"Your apron still has a tag on," I say and take an already made pasta out of the microwave. I put it into the stove and throw my mother's actual attempt at pasta away. Eliza Bowmen has never cooked a proper meal in her entire life. 

I don't want Amber poisoned before I at least win the bet.

"Did she fall for it?" Mother asks again. I slump down onto one of the bar stool at the massive island counter and take a drag out of the cigarette.

"She's not stupid," I tell Mother.

"Blake, you better win that bet. Did you tell her about Kyle? She'll soften to you of you use your brother's death-"

"Just stay out of it," I growl back before Amber walks in. 

I can't place the look on her face but she says: "Something smells great." 

I've killed and tortured and cheated. And yet, never have I felt like I'll go to hell as much as I do right now. Even the pasta is a sham. My mother can't cook to save her life. 

Why do I feel so awful about being fake? I's all part of the plan...

"It'll be done in a minute, Honey," Mother tells Amber.

My hands shake as I take another drag of the cigarette.

"I can't wait. I really didn't expect Blake to bring me to his house tonight," Amber admits.

"Oh, he didn't want to, but I insisted. My boy likes to act tough so to see him bubbling on about the pretty new girl has me curious!"

Bullshit.

"That's... interesting to know," Amber says and sends me another look I can't quite identify. Does she know my mother is lying? Does she suspect the workings of a sham?

"My eldest, Kyle, was exactly the same, but..." Mother's lips starts shaking at that. Fake. It's all fake. "But I guess fate was destined to leave me and my youngest son alone..." Fake. Fake. Fake. "I just hope for Blake to find someone so he isn't alone anymore..." A tiny tear slides out of my mother's eye and I can't take it anymore. Fake!

"Let me show you the training room," I tell Amber and lead her down the other hallway. I chuck the cigarette in the nearest vase I walk by. 

"Uhh, okay?" Amber says and follows me.

I push open the glass doors and walk into my sanctuary. Amber is staring at my pile of defeated boxing bags that's in the corner of the massive room and I can't help the raspy chuckle that follows.

"What have those poor boxing bags done to you?" she demands.

"They were in the way,"

"Of what? Your ego?"

"My fists," I say with a smirk. 

"That was by far, the lamest words that has ever left your mouth. You have had many, many lame and cringe-worthy moments, but I think that just took the number one spot," Amber says in deadpan.

"Don't lie, you find me charming," I say with my infamous cocky grin.

"Yeah, about as charming as wet sock," Amber says and rolls her eyes. 

If she was any other girl I would've shouted at her or threatened her by now, but I can't. I have to play nice with this one.

And also... she sees right through me - to the point where it's scary. No one has ever guessed something about me that was even remotely as accurate as what Amber claimed back in my brother's room... 

"Oh, look at all the pretties!" Amber exclaims and runs over to a glass cabinet at the other side of the training room.

"Amber, you realize those are assault rifles, right?" I ask. She's going on about them the same way other girls would freak out over shoes.

"Look, there's a FN scar, an ACR, an AK-forty-seven, and OH MY GOD, you have a Heckler and Koch G-three?! Can I hold it?" Amber begs.

I'm genuinely stunned.

"What the hell are you?" I ask because it's the only thing I can think of right now.

"Why do people keep asking me that?" she sighs while still gawking at the rifles. 

"I don't know, maybe because you know how to race, fight like some kind of ninja-assassin and the names of assault rifles!?" 

"So what if I'm not the dumb, pathetic blonde everyone was hoping for," she growls back.

"So what? So what? You're constantly covered in paint and you wear clothes that belong in another era! It's driving me insane! You're suppose to be shy and innocent and cute. Not some secret badass that can probably beat me in racing," I rant.

"One, it's not a 'probably'. I can definitely beat you. And two, I'm really not a badass," Amber laughs.

I go a little quiet at the next question I'm about to ask. It might cost me this whole bet. If I'm smart, I'll just leave the question, but... but I have to know...

"Who were your parents?" I ask Amber.

Her mood doesn't drop as drastically as I anticipated and that sends relief washing over me.

"My Mom stayed at home to take care of me and my Dad worked at a really successful business," she explains.

"What was your father's name?" I ask, because if it is Trebor D'Logiram, one of the country's biggest gang leaders - scratch that, one of the world's biggest gang leaders, we have a problem.

Trebor D'Logiram doesn't belong to a a side. East, West, North and South, it's all below him. Trebor dealt in weapons. Everyone gang needs weapons, so naturally he was one of the richest people in the world. The South handled his shipments, but other than that, the gang was a thing on it's own. Of course, they could never truly rule the country, because even though they're too good for a side, they still have to share the gates with us. 

Whoever has full-control over Tygerwell, has full control over the country.

But Trebor got killed last year... That's why Rhodes and I are more determined than ever to take control over Tygerwell... And also, probably why the North is stirring again.

"My Dad's name is Robert Marigold," Amber answers.

Relief washes over me, but it doesn't last long.

"What company did he work for?" I press.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Don't be stubborn"

"It was a weird kind of name. Like silver or shiny or-"

"Sterling," I answer for her.

"Yeah, the Sterling Corporation, I think," she says.

Amber is genuinely oblivious to the fact that one of the most powerful gangs in the world is called Sterling. And that her father was most likely in it...

"Amber, Darling, listen to me," I say, "Sterling is the name of a very big and dangerous gang..."

Amber gasps. "That's not possible..." she whispers, "Are you telling me my dad was in one of the gangs? The South?"

"No, Sterling is above having a side. The South only handles their shipments. I suspect your father worked for the leader, Trebor. But... Trebor got killed last year... I... I think your dad got murdered for the same reason Trebor got killed..." I try saying as delicately as I can.

Never in my life have I tried to be cautious around anyone, but somehow this girl has me worried over how she'd react.

"My... my dad wasn't like that... he wouldn't be in a gang. He hates smokers!" Amber says. Her eyes are getting teary and I hate that.

But unlike last time, I don't get annoyed.

"Some gang-members live double lives, Amber... I'm so sorry you have to hear this from me," I say and it's true. I really am sorry about that.

This bet is fucking with my head.

"My dad died because he belonged to a gang... My mother got killed because he belonged to a gang... That's just... That explains all the guns and cars then... The defense classes every Saturday, the chauffeur trying to catch me in his car... it... it all makes so much, and yet so little sense," Amber whispers.

I want to comfort her. I want to tell her I'm so sorry for that, but I don't. If I comfort her, it'll make everything more real than it should be. This is all just for the bet, I remind myself.

People who you care about get killed.

You don't care about her.

"I'm... I'm not just average... My whole life was a lie.... This... This changes everything..." Amber says. 

I don't even think she meant for me to hear, but I ask her in anyway: "What does it change? You can't do anything about it... it already happened..." 

It's something I had to repeat to myself over and over and over after my father and brother died. The only thing I can hold on to is my promise to destroy the East-side gang once and for all one day.

So, when Amber looks back at me with a hurricane violently dancing behind her her eyes, I completely understand her next statement.

"Because I'm going to find whoever killed my parents. And when I find them, I'm going to kill them with my bare hands."

"I'll help you find them," I offer.

It's a way to reel her in closer for the bet, but also, more pressingly something I really want to help her with. There's nothing I can do right now to those who killed my brother and father. But, I can help this golden girl find whoever killed her parents.

"Deal," Amber says.

Hey my goldies!

I hope this chapter wasn't too boring or anything... I know some of you guys expected Amber's dad to be part of a gang, and though I only planned on revealing it later, I think it'll be a good way to keep the plot moving. The last thing I want to do is bore you! (I promise the next chapter ought to be funnier.)

And thank you guys so so much for over 22k reads and getting me at #101 in Teen Fiction! As you guys know my birthday is soon so to be in the top 100 by then would be insane!

Don't forget to vote, comment and love yourself for who you are.

~ Holly Shmit

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net