How was I supposedly so good that I was being recruited by some elite, ultra-private academy?
I opened the drawer to the nightstand and pulled out Atlas’ card. I stared at the elegant font on the thick cardstock and narrowed my eyes at his name. Atlas Christos was just some guy trying to sell the school to me or to anyone who would listen. He was a recruiter for a pseudo academy, and the good kids—the really good ones—probably wouldn’t give him or that school the time of day. No one with the chance of attending a big university would bother wasting their time listening to the shit he tried selling to us the other night.
Yet I kept his card.
Was I so desperate to cling to something, or someone, that deemed me worthy of being part of something great? Did I crave being good enough for something amazing just once in my life? Was getting accepted to USC after being the valedictorian in high school too fucking much to ask?
I was pissed off at the world right now and purposely looked for faults in everything. I was in the mood where if I looked hard enough at every situation of mine, I could validate the fact that I was garbage and simply not good enough for anything.
7
Ryder
August
Simply put, life was unfair. I waited until the very last day to register for classes at Lancaster Community College, mainly because I wasn’t motivated to go. During some downtime at the library this morning, I was able to read the descriptions of classes I was considering. When I saw the courses for foreign languages, I thought about what Atlas had said about being fluent in conversation in eight other languages after four years.Yeah, right. More bullshit.
I spent my lunch break registering for classes on my phone. None of the classes were exciting and were nothing more than the basics. I kept reminding myself this was temporary. In two years, I’d have a decent number of credits under my belt and would be able to transfer them to USC or some other school.
I slowly made my way home. I wasn’t in any hurry, and at this point, I was trying to avoid Roger at all costs. I purposely volunteered at the library and grocery store to work shifts during dinner. I didn’t want to be around Roger. But my library shiftended a while ago, and as much as I wanted to not go home, it was unavoidable right now.
It took me until I was a few houses away from ours that I noticed a black Bentley parked across the street.
“Must be nice,” I said under my breath.
I wondered what house the Bentley driver was visiting. It had to be a visitor because no one in our neighborhood had a Bentley. Certainly not a new one. I assumed it was new because of the sleek design. As I opened our front door, I wanted to tell Troy to come look out the window. He loved cars, and that one would be something he didn’t see every day.
“Hey, Troy!” I called out as I walked through the living room toward the kitchen. “Troy, come look out the window…” My voice trailed off, and I stopped midway through the living room when movement from the couches caught my eye.
Atlas stood and smiled. “Good evening, Ryder.”
Saliva and air caught in my throat, and I had to swallow a few times to sort it out before I spoke.
“Hi.”
“Ryder, Mr. Christos came to take you to dinner,” Pam said.
I looked at her and then at Atlas.He wanted to take me to dinner?
“Hurry up and go change, Ryd. That way the rest of us can eat,” Roger said. Such a dick. Always a dick.
“Um, okay. I’ll be right back.” I took off down the hallway and didn’t respond as Pam called out for me to find a nice shirt.Yeah, yeah. I’ll look for a shirt appropriate to ride in a Bentley.
As soon as I got into my room, I toed off my shoes and kicked them close to my bed. I pulled off my khaki pants and blue t-shirt on my way to the closet. I stared at a pair of black pants, another pair of khaki pants, and a pair of jeans.Where the fuck were we going?Atlas was wearing black pants, a blue button-down, long-sleeved shirt, and a black jacket. No tie. What shirtwould I wear with the black pants? I quickly scanned my shirt options. I had a white button-down, long-sleeved shirt, but the idea of wearing long sleeves in this warm weather wasn’t appealing. And why the fuck was he here in the first place?
“Hey, what is taking you so goddamn long?” Roger’s stern voice startled me and caused me to jump. He stalked toward me and grabbed my bicep.
“I’m trying to get dressed!”
“Looks like you’re standing there in your underwear.”
I tried to pull my arm free, but he tightened his grip.
“You better behave tonight. You be nice, polite, and show that you have some manners. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t give me a reason to change the locks on the doors.”
