Auggie Matthews Novels & Stories

Ezra talked. About school, basketball drills and about Aurora, his best friend who wanted to be a journalist and “expose the world, one idiot at a time.” About the math teacher who hated him and about how the scouts were finally coming to watch him play. Matteo listened. He never volunteered much. He didn’t talk about the fights he had, the blood or the way rage coiled in him like a second spine. But he asked questions. “How many points do you average?” “Why basketball?”

I say with a hint of concern. I’m not going to lie, seeing Bethany this stressed made me nervous to see how she would react to my comment, so I slightly lean back. “I don’t need to relax, I shot-gunned a big redbull to give me the extra kick I need to get through the entire day. With all the planning I’ve been arranging on such short time, I need to be wide awake and present for the whole thing.” “Mom!” Jackson was thrown off with shock at his mother’s response. “You were almost six months sober. You know you’re not supposed to do that anymore. Dad made it abundantly clear that you stay away from them.”

Why is he asking me this? Seeing that there’s no reason not to answer, I shrug my shoulders and reply. “Well, according to mom, she was out with friends when she met the guy. She said that he was gorgeous and looked a little lonely. Apparently, his wife had died, and he was looking for solace, which my mom was more than happy to provide.” At my words, Mathias rises from his seat and looks back at me. “When…How old are you?” With my heart in my throat, I answer. “I’m eighteen. My birthday is in February.”

As Matthew walked block after block he began to feel more tired then usual. Something was very wrong. He was hungry, very hungry. Matthew saw Brice standing nearby. He was one of the guys he knew from High School and he had never been nice. The first day of school he had pelted Matthew with rotten egg and had thrown him into the girl’s bathroom. Matthew usually felt embarrassed when he thought back. This time it did was make him angry. So angry that by the time he got right next to Brice, he couldn’t control his hands as his right

I am, after all, crashing Cassie and Toby's date. "Is it okay if they join us?" Cassie asked Toby. Out of courtesy, I guess. "Sure, why not." he answered, more so to appease her than he really cared if I’m here. "Hi, I'm Matthew." I said, stretching my hand towards him. I've got to show some manners to my competition. "Toby" he said shaking it. He doesn't seem to be bothered by my sudden appearance. He doesn't seem to like it either.

After Mateo led the way, Thomas arrived at a construction site. When Thomas saw how hard the sweaty laborers were working, he felt a little touched. Speaking of which, why were they at such a place? “Is the teenager you talked about working on this construction site?” Thomas asked. Hold on, if he was about the same age as Mateo, he should be studying in school now. Why was he working on the construction site? He had to be underaged! Mateo reached out to point at a teenager who was shoveling sand, and he said, “That’s him, Aiden Brown. He's the most capable player I've seen among all the players who play the support role.”

Audrey stood under the streetlamp, the cool Seattle wind tugging at her long espresso-brown hair. Her fingers gripped the phone tight, her grey-blue eyes fixed on the distant glow of the city lights. The line crackled for a second before Matthew’s voice came through again, sharper this time. “Aubrey? Is that really you?” Matthew Chen said, his tone shifting from professional to something warmer, sounding almost relieved. “God, it’s been three years. Your father’s been... well, you know how he is. Where are you right now?”

ALIS P.O.V “Okay, well if your mom’s name just happened to be spelled M-A-R-K—” said Matthew before I cut him off. “It is not Mark.” I said in an annoyed voice. “I didn’t say it was Mark.” Matthew replied with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you spelt his name. So that counts.” I replied. Matthew sighed and waved his hands in the air dismissing my comment. “Listen, this boy is no good.” Matthew said as if it was a fact.

Mum's cousin, Aunty Rose, buttered toast while her child—eight years old, all elbows and sticky fingers—kicked his legs against the chair rungs and hummed under his breath. I took the empty seat across from Matthew. My body still carried the memory of his hands and mouth. Every shift of the chair made the ache between my legs flare. I kept my face calm and reached for the orange juice. Matthew looked the same as always on the surface with his dark sweater, hair slightly damp from a shower, and the composed version the rest of the family expected. Only I saw the faint shadow under his eyes and the careful way he avoided letting our gazes lock for too long.

Hank was speechless. “Don’t think that I’m siding with Liberty and Serenity. I’m not. I’m just standing on Sonny’s side. Sonny is only two years and five months old. He’ll fall if he walks a little faster. Even a slap is unbearable to a kid like that, let alone what Matthew did. Although Matthew is only ten years old, he’s tall and strong like a fifteen-year-old.