“Pam!” I called out as I raced down the hallway. While hurrying, I examined the envelopes to make sure the return address for me was legible. “Pam!” I hollered again as I turned the corner to the living room.
I bumped into Roger and made him spill his coffee on himself, shocking both of us.
“Damnit, Ryder!” he roared. He pulled his shirt away from his skin with one hand and then slapped my face with the other hand. “Watch where you’re going!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I ran to the kitchen and let my bag slide down my arm and crash to the ground with a thud. I set my envelopes on the writing ledge and went back to take the coffee mug from Roger’s hand.
I carefully carried the mug the short distance into the kitchen while sounds of chaos broke out around me. Dillon was in the crib crying while Terry screamed and cried as Pam walked around with him. My seven and eight-year-old foster brothers, Troy and Ben, flicked cereal at one another, while Kenton and our other two middle school-aged foster brothers talked loudly at the table. Robbie and Zack were both twelve and shared a room.
“You’re always racing around like a lunatic!” Roger said as he followed me into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Roger.”
“Sometimes I wonder how stupid that whole graduating class of yours must be if you’re supposed to be the brightest,” he said as he flung open the freezer door.
My ears burned with anger over his comment as I rinsed out the coffee cup. As soon as I dried it off, Roger tossed the ice cube tray on the counter. The force of the impact sent several of the cubes out of the tray and sliding across the surface.
“He’s not the smartest,” Kenton said sarcastically. “It’s a sympathy nod.”
I turned around and flipped him off, but Roger clamped his hand around my neck and steered me toward the coffee pot to refill his mug.
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Kenton,” Roger said. He finished putting a bunch of ice cubes in a dish towel and then held it under his shirt. “At least Ryder is graduating high school and has a future ahead of him. Aren’t you on your second semester of flunked P.E.?”
Kenton was quiet while Robbie and Zack laughed and tossed cereal at him. Pam yelled at both of them to stop making a mess while I poured coffee in Roger’s mug. I set the mug down near the coffee maker and pulled my envelopes off the writing ledge.
“Pam, do we have any stamps? I need to mail my college applications today.”
“Check the junk drawer next to the phone,” she said from the living room.
“I hope you have a plan for some financial aid if you get accepted at one of those big schools,” Roger murmured.
“All the schools offer financial aid, and I can even apply for a college loan,” I replied as I rummaged through a drawer full of pens, tiny notepads, and take-out menus until I finally found a book of stamps.
“Hopefully, the community college will accept you,” Roger said under his breath.
I stopped applying stamps to the envelopes and glared at him. He stared at me over the rim of the mug as he sipped the coffee and held the ice-packed towel under his shirt.
“What?” Roger’s tone was almost daring me to respond in a way that I wanted to, though I was trying to hold my tongue. I didn’t want to get hit again before school. When he raised his eyebrow, I knew he was looking for an argument. I looked down at my envelopes, and there was a good chance I wasn’t able to control myself and eye rolled at him.
“What, Ryder? You’re usually very talkative.” He set the mug on the counter and reached out to slap my ear. I pulled my head away. “Your little eye rolling attitude needs adjusting. I make acomment about hoping you get accepted at a school, and you pull this ungrateful crap.”
My foster brothers had quieted down, and I could feel all their eyes on me while Roger gripped my upper arm roughly. We’d all been uncomfortable spectators to Roger’s tirades. None of us liked it, but we all knew the reality of each of our situations before we talked back to him. When you worried about what could happen to the roof over your head or the warm bed, that fear became somewhat of a behavior-controlling deterrent. Unfortunately, far too many times I still acted out. Out of all my foster brothers, I was the one who struggled the most with controlling my behavior and verbal remarks. Music helped me calm down, though, and I often turned to it when I felt myself reaching the boiling point.
Roger started to jostle and shake me, and my anger had surpassed a controllable limit. I yanked my arm away from him and stared angrily at him. I tried to quickly calm down and rattled off a nicer version of what was on the tip of my tongue.
“I’m not ungrateful!” I might have said it a little louder and with more force than I intended.
“You better watch your volume,” he warned.
“Sorry! It’s just the community college comment makes me feel like you’re trying to set me up for failure.”
“How is getting accepted at a college setting you up for failure?”
“It’s not. But… It’s hard to explain.”
“Success or failure is in your hands, boy.” Roger shoved me hard in my shoulder that was still bruised from his last tirade.
“I know,” I snapped.
