"If she's rich, why the hell she's going to this shithole school? And why would she be taking the bus?"
I shrug. "Beats me. I just know she's not one of us."
"How do you know she's rich?" Kendrick asks. "Did she tell you that?"
"She didn't need to. I could just tell. Like the way she took over my desk. Rich girls think they get whatever they want. They don't even ask. They just take. And they don't think they should have to wait. She showed up at my locker and told me to move. She couldn't even wait to get in her damn locker."
"So what happened?" Josh asks.
"I made her wait."
"And did she?"
"Hell, no. She snuck under my arm and opened her damn locker."
Josh chuckles under his breath.
"You think that's funny?"
He stops laughing and clears his throat. "I'm just surprised, that's all. People usually do what you tell them, especially if they don't know you."
"Exactly. The girl has no idea who she's messing with." I grab my gym bag. "I'm heading out. See you guys later."
As I leave the locker room, images of that girl fill my head. I can't believe she showed up at my locker. Out of all the lockers in the building, why does hers have to be right next to mine? I probably could've moved when she asked but I was curious to see what she'd do if I didn't. Gotta give her credit for surprising me. I didn't expect her to duck under my arm like that. When she did, I felt the need to teach her a lesson. To show her she needs to wait her turn. Okay, maybe that wasn't the only reason I trapped her like that. I might've wanted an excuse to get close to her, but only because I wanted to get a better look at her. I wanted to look into those eyes that kept taunting me, challenging me, and making me not forget her despite my repeated attempts.
I'd spent all morning trying to get her out of my head, and then there she was, standing at my locker with those delicate rose-toned lips, that porcelain skin, and those big brown eyes that stared back at me without even a hint of fear. Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about her. Because she's not intimidated by me. Everyone's intimidated by me—not just because of my size, but because of my attitude. I make it clear I want to be left alone, but New Girl doesn't seem to get that.
After a long ride on the city bus, I finally arrive at the shithole I call home. It's a one-bedroom house that belongs to my dad. His mom left it to him in her will. Back when she lived here, it wasn't half bad. It’s old and small but my grandma kept it up. My dad let it go to shit. When something broke, he didn't fix it. And he didn't fix the damages he made with his outbursts. The walls have holes from his fist. The doors he kicked in are hanging crooked and won't close right. He ripped off all but two of the kitchen cabinet doors, and the carpet is stained with liquor and burned from cigarette ashes.
The only good thing about the house is that it's paid off. I still have to pay the taxes on it and pay for any repairs, which is why I worked two jobs last summer. I saved as much as I could but it's not enough to cover expenses, so I'm living off public assistance. I hate that I have to do it but it's hard to keep a job while also going to school, playing football, taking care of the house, and being a parent to Jacob. The kid needs me. He hasn't gotten into trouble yet, at least nothing serious, but I'm afraid if I leave him too much, he will. At 15, he thinks he knows everything. And he trusts people he shouldn't. If I was out working all night, he'd be getting in trouble, and there's no way I'm letting that happen. I'm not letting him become my dad.
"I'm home," I say as I come in the house. Jacob's on the couch, playing video games, his eyes glued to the TV.
"Hey," he mutters.
I walk over to him. "You do your homework?"
"Later," he says, repeatedly pressing the buttons on the game controller.
I grab the remote and shut off the TV.
"What the fuck?" Jacob jumps up from the couch, reaching for the remote but knowing he'll never get it. At six foot five, I'm a good seven inches taller than him, even more so with my arm extended.
"What are the rules?" I ask.
He sighs. "Why do I have to do it when you say? I can do it later, after dinner."
"It never happens. You say you're tired, then go to bed. I'm not fucking around here, Jacob. It's the first day of school and I don't want you falling behind. You do your homework or no more video games. I'll throw it away if I have to."
"You do and I'll—"
"You'll what?" I get in his face, towering over him, giving him that look not to mess with me. He knows how strict I am about school. Just becauseIsuck at it doesn't mean he's going to. If someone had pushed me to study, maybe I'd be getting decent grades and have an actual future. Instead, I'm busting my ass on the football field, hoping to get a scholarship to whatever college will give me one. I've already got the attention of some college scouts, and Coach says my grades won't matter if they really want me to play.
"Forget it," Jacob says, walking away.
"Hey." I follow him to the kitchen.
"What do you want?" he asks, taking a dirty bowl from the sink and pouring cereal in it.
