Victoria decides to watch TV instead of doing her homework after school.
“Why didn’t you make sure she did it before watching TV?” Mother asks me when she gets home from work.
“I didn’t realize I was responsible for her doing her homework.” I answer.
“Don’t fucking smart off to me, Sara. I’m not in the mood.”
She never is. “I’m not smarting off. I’m telling you that you never told me I was supposed to make sure she did her homework.”
“Well, you are,” she says haughtily. “Since she didn’t do it, you’re grounded for the rest of the week.”
The problem with Jason is bad enough, now I’m in trouble at home because Victoria didn’t do her homework. Where is the fairness in this world?
The last year with Arissa showed me parents who love their child and let her be a child. Each day in my home is insufferable and I want out. So I push back.
“The rest of the week? The first football game is Friday. I didn’t even do anything to get grounded!”
She scowls, pointing a finger at me with her other hand on her hip. “You watch your fucking tone.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“Go to your room!”
“Fine!” I storm off to my room and slam the door behind me.
I jump at the loud boinging rattle of the doorstop being hit by my door a few seconds later. Father glowers at me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, closing the door behind him.
“I came to my room like Mother told me to.”
“Don’t you ever talk to your mother like that or slam your door again.” He slaps me across my face with enough force to knock me on my bed and a searing pain to cover my cheek. He unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants.
An invisible weight of misery heaped upon misery presses down on me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my hand covering my cheek. I should know better than to ask. I know full well what he’s doing.
I think maybe one day he’ll stop when I ask the question.
Me and my far-fetched ideas.
There is no stopping my father.
“Shut the fuck up.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I take my seat behind Jason in English the next morning and find a note waiting on the desk. He doesn’t make an attempt to look at me or turn around.
This is it. I’m losing half of my friends.
I open it and read:
I would wait forever for you.
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand while I choke down a sob. His sentiment is beautiful and simple, but we can never be. I fish my pen out of my backpack.
I’m not the girl for you.
I slide the note under his elbow.
He writes a quick response, then sets it in front of me. This time his eyes pierce me with an intensity conveying his sincerity before he faces front.
Crap.
Yes you are.
My forehead drops onto my crossed hands and his desk and chair squeaks as he moves.
He lifts my head. “You are,” he murmurs, kisses my forehead, then turns back around as our classmates stream in.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rose and Andrew take me and Arissa to the second high school football game. Andrew buys us hot dogs and sodas and we head for the metal bleachers, choosing seats behind the band.
“Well, well, well. There are my girls,” Jason says, joining us.
“Hey,” I point behind us with my thumb, “have you met Arissa’s parents?”
“Oh!” He shakes their hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jason, Arissa’s eternal tormentor.”
“She needs someone to keep her on her toes.” Andrew chuckles. “I’m Andrew and this is my wife, Rose.”
“Ma’am.” Jason nods at her.
“Don’t ma’am me, young man,” Rose says, feigning sternness before smiling.
“Ooh, now I see where you get it from, Jericho!”
“Are you here alone, or did Mommy bring you?” Arissa asks him.
“I’m here with some friends and Becky. But since I found my girls, I’m thinking about ditching them.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a half-cocked grin as our eyes meet. “Do you have plans for after the game?”
“I’m spending the night at Arissa’s.”
“Do you two want to go to Joe’s Pizza after the game?”
“I thought you were here with Becky and your friends,” I remind him.
“She pales in comparison to you,” he gushes theatrically.
Arissa and I look back with raised eyebrows at her parents and they confer in a whisper. “We’re all going,” Andrew says, adopting a protective tone and posture.
We pick a table by the front window while Rose and Andrew eat in the back, but