The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,21
a repurposed garbage truck around and refer to yourself in the third person all day like a goddamn lunatic. The only thing that matters to me is Ben’s welfare. If I thought that you were mature, responsible and serious enough to take care of a ten-year-old boy, then I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending Ben be placed with you once you’re eighteen.”
Heat prickles at the back of my neck. I grind my teeth together, wrestling to keep my temper in check. One heated, angry word and I’ll only be proving her point. Somehow, I manage to affect some level of calm as I force out the words that are burning at the back of my throat. “I’ve been looking after myself for years, okay? Me. I worked. I bought my own food. I cooked my own meals. I learned to look out for my own wellbeing when the guy you people placed me with got wasted and beat the shit out me every night of the week that ended in the letter Y. I am more than capable of looking after my own little brother. And guess what? I’ll do it for free. You won’t have to pay me a goddamn dime—”
“This isn’t about money, Alex—”
“And what do you mean, if you thought I was serious enough about taking Ben? I’m serious as a heart attack. The day after my birthday, I will be walking away from Jackie’s place with my little brother, and there won’t be a damn thing she can do about it. So please. Go ahead and tell me how that isn’t serious enough for you.”
“You are treating him like he’s a PlayStation, Alex. Despite how you may feel, Ben is not an object or a piece of property that was confiscated from you. You don’t deserve to have him handed over to you once you meet the barest of criteria, just because you share a mother and a father. That is not how this works.”
Oh, god. If I even part my lips right now, I am going to fucking explode. I grind my teeth together as hard as I can, but the rage doesn’t subside. I have to look away from her, back out of the window and onto the winter landscape beyond as I silently fume.
Inhale.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Inhale.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Exhale.
Rhonda huffs—she’s obviously having trouble letting go of her own anger. Her voice is much calmer when she speaks again, though. “At the end of the day, a stuffy old man is gonna review your case. He’s going to take into account your age, and the way you’ve chosen to decorate your body, and the fact that you ride around on a fucking deathtrap, and he’s gonna form an opinion real quick. And then, he’s going to look down at your file in front of him, and he’s going to read that you were Tazed in an open grave ten days ago, while you were pissing on a dead man. What do you think he’s going to say about that?”
I can already feel my hackles rising again. I do my level best to keep my shit together as I return my gaze to her. “I don’t know. Maybe the old bastard will have a sense of humor. Or some sense of justice?”
Rhonda slowly pushes away from the table, sliding back her chair. She gets to her feet and crosses her pokey office, collecting her purse from a hook on the back of the door. “I like you, Alex. I really do. You’re a smart kid. Your grades are…” She throws her hands up, her eyes rolling to the ceiling. “If you wanted to go to college, I do not doubt for one second that you’d get a scholarship based on your grades. I’m not going to bother wasting my breath trying to lead a charge on that campaign, though. Instead, I’ll give you some sound advice. You need to fix your attendance. You need to start building up some extra credit. You need to create a stable, clean, safe home environment. You need to get a job—”
“I have a job.”
“Shut your mouth and listen to me for five minutes. You do not have a job. You bus tables at a dive bar until the early hours of the morning, which is nothing but a huge, giant black check mark against you. Have you thought about who’s gonna be there to watch Ben while you’re out until two in the morning on a