“Yeah, everything’s nice, interior and exterior.” Levi takes a step back, and I follow suit, mirroring his movements.
Grant claps his hands together loudly before rubbing them together. “How does it drive? Fast? Does it coast good going over, say, ninety miles an hour?” He takes another step closer, so close that we can see the thread in his t-shirt, and feel his alcohol-soured breath pouring over our heads.
I watch as all the color in Levi’s face fades, his eyes shift to mine for a quick minute before he looks away, realizing the mistake he just made.
Levi swallows hard, as Grant steps back, clapping his hands again, “Speak, boy, use your words. Does it, or does it not, coast like it floats on fucking water at ninety miles an hour?”
Levi nods, yes. I watch his body shift into a combative state. His jaw tightens, and his forearms surge as blood pumps through them, ready to block Grant’s next move. “Yes,” he answers. I bring my arms in, wrapping them around me, knowing I don’t dare step in. Levi never backed down; he would never bow to him or accept what he dished out. Levi slowly shifts his weight. I watch as his chest rises and falls with anticipation. The heartbeat in his neck beats wildly as it thrashes against his sweaty skin. My eyes dart between Levi and Grant, knowing how this will go if Grant strikes: a brawl, a full-on fight ring with no rules. Levi keeps his fists tight, waiting for the strike.
To our surprise, it doesn’t come.
We stand cemented in the living room as Grant turns around, pacing the floor, the boards groaning in protest underhis heavy gait, each pivot of his heel wearing away the stain on the hardwood. “Don’t do that shit again; this will be your only warning. And you.” His gaze swings in my direction, his voice digging deeper, laced with venom, “Wearing some skimpy shorts, driving around with the neighbor boy. Asking for trouble, girl.” I look down at my shorts, which are well past my fingertips that are now resting by my side, no chance for a potential ass cheek flashing or camel toe. I don’t see the problem, but he does, and now it’s my problem too.
I carefully look up to him, chest heaving as my heart thrashes against my chest plate, “I’m sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.” The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth, but they seem to placate him as he nods his head and relaxes his hands by his side.
He puffs up his chest, “Damn right it won’t, both of you get your asses upstairs. I give you a car and you drag race, I let you out and you parade around with your legs on show like you’re an animal at a god damn petting zoo— ungrateful, disrespectful kids.” He continues muttering as he walks into the kitchen.
The moment we watch him disappear completely, Levi and I sprint up the stairs, not giving him a chance to come back.
Rushing into Levi’s room, we shut the door. “Fuck, that was a close one. How the fuck did he know how fast we were going?” Catching my breath, I watch Levi pace the floor of his bedroom.
He throws his hands in the air, “Gotta be the tracker, what a fucking prick. I’ll keep watch while you head to bed; it’s the first day of school tomorrow, and you need your sleep.” I nod my head and flip him off, our signature ‘I love you’ move, and head to my room.
Overall, the day wasn’t shit, and that is a step up. After my shower, I lay in bed thinking of tonight’s events and the hate onLevi’s face when he found out he was being tracked. I know he hates it here, and with his mother and his real dad gone, there is no reason for him to stay in this hellhole. Before my mind can take me down the never-ending loop of pain and suffering caused by the what-ifs, I switch my focus to the one good thing about today; Spencer.
Immediately, I jump onto Instagram and look up Spencer Collins. Clicking on the first profile, I zoom in on his picture. Baseball boys surround him as they hold him up, all with big smiles, and the gigantic trophy shows the reason. He has 600 Instagram friends and only fifteen posts.Not a poser, that’s good.I creep on all fifteen pictures, going as far as reading the captions and all the comments. I might have even clicked on the profiles of a few girls who commented or liked his post. The first picture is of him in the gym with a classic gym pose, caption reading, “Flexing so hard I need a spotter for my ego.”Wow. I laugh to myself quietly, a snort escaping my lips, followed by an eyeroll, whether it’s at his ego or my own is debatable. The following picture shows Spencer hugging his mom tightly as she is on the porch swing. Bright smiles on both of their faces, the caption reads, “I don’t mind being a mama’s boy.”
My heart flutters as I read the caption a few more times, and so did 465 other people, because the likes on this are crazy, as well as the comments.So, he's popular?The following picture shows a large, golden retriever-like dog. It's the cutest dog I have ever seen. Clicking on the image again, over three hundred likes and twenty-six comments. They mostly consisted of his teammates, making jokes about the dog being better looking, with the occasional girl dropping in with, ‘Aww, so cute, is that your dog? Can I play with him? I’d love to stroke him sometime (wink emoji).’ A tense feeling rushes through me, and I viciously scroll back to the top, where my finger hovers over the followbutton.These girls are relentless. I’d love to pet your dog, uh huh, you wanna pet more than his dog, Ashley_CaptainNCC. To follow or not.He clearly has enough girls keeping his comment section full. I’ll just end up as one more added to the very back of his list. Let’s not go there, Scarlett. He’s spoken a few words in your direction. He wouldn’t look at me anyway, not that I want him to, right?
We have been here for two months. Two months of getting to know our neighbors, the town, and ournew normal. Summer break came and went, perhaps because the Collins surrounded Levi and me; they have a way of making time stop and enjoying the moments with laughter and a sense of belonging—afamily.I know not to get attached, because when we do, Grant throws a tantrum, and our hell goes up in flames. It’s as if the life we live is set on a constant simmer, waiting to erupt and boil over. There is a calm before the storm, and believe it or not, Grant has been on low heat; it is only a matter of time before he combusts. Tomorrow is the first day at a new school, momless and nowhere near ready to face being the new kid.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 7
First Day
Scarlett
Waking up today was easy; anxiety helped immensely. Up before the sun and the sound of my alarms, I hop into the shower. The warm water cascades over me, as my thoughts form an emotional tangle. The first day of school with no mom to make us breakfast or see us off. No “have a good day” and no big smiles as we return.Catching myself in a choke hold, I try to restrain myself from the overwhelming feeling of grief and insecurities. Turning off the water, I rinse out my long brown hair and look in the mirror.Alright, Scarlett,get your shit together. Be invisible; you’ve done this for years. Who cares if it’s a new school; it's still the same concept. Be a shadow on the wall, speak only when spoken to, and hide in the bathroom stall if shit goes south.Giving myself a slight smirk, I head back to my room to find something to do with this crazy hair and deep, dark bags under my emotionally drained eyes.
Styling my hair was easy: I opted for my signature beach-wave curls and kept makeup minimal. I then headed to Levi’s room for the most challenging part, the outfit.
Giving his door a soft knock before opening it, Levi lies on his back in bed, already dressed and ready for school. “Why did you knock?” He laughs as he sits up.
Walking into the massive closet, I give him a small laugh. “Because the last thing I want is to come in here while you’re naked, or worse, have your dick in your hand. Knocking will be happening.”
Levi bursts out laughing. “Good point, it is my favorite pastime.” Looking back, I watch him roll his eyes before standing up and walking over to his window. The sun is now shining through the blinds, and I’m crunching time. “Better hurry up if you want a ride, be down in ten or you’re walking.” He goes to leave the room, and I yell out to him.
“Funny, I know you wouldn’t leave me, I’ll be taking my time!” Levi is already down a few steps, and I know he just gave me the finger.
After trying on ten shirts and six pairs of shorts, I stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing jean shorts and a plain black V-neck t-shirt, paired with black-and-white Vans.At least there are no bruises to conceal at the start of the day. My stomach flips because this is it; I’m leaving this room and committing to doing this today.Mom, if you are watching overus from wherever you are, walk with us today- it’s the least you could do. And if you still choose not to do your part, then fuck off.I laugh to myself and head down the stairs.
Levi is standing at the kitchen island, slamming a Pop-Tart. “Easy killer, Grant’s already at work, no need to slam the shitty food.” He smiles as crumbs fall from his mouth. Grant has always been the kind of man who wants everyone to present themselves in a certain way. Levi needs to be lean, strong, look like a damn prince, eat well, and work out. He is always to push to excel, ensuring Grant looks good, whereas I need to look pristine, always, but modest. To remain thin and keep the pimples that make my face their home seven days a month concealed, comical coming from the man who leaves more marks than a pimple ever could.
Walking to the door, I turn around. “Ten minutes is up. Should I hop in the car and leave you?” Grabbing his bag, he rushes to the door.
“Never will I trust you to drive my car. I saw that look of thrill in your eyes when I was flying down that road. Not a chance in hell. Passenger Princess, you will remain.” He throws the keys up and catches them as we walk to the car.We will see about that.
