“You were in church, Dad,” I remind him, trying my hardest to stay in this seat and not run away.
I can’t talk about my sister, fuck, when Dad watched the camera feed and seeing the whole thing go down, from Ang sneaking into the yard with a towel and her costume to her freezing hearing Toya’s cackled confession before my brave, stupid, twelve-year-old little sister confronted her instead of finding me.
“It doesn’t fucking matter, I still didn’t ensure she didn’t sneak out for a swim,” he grits and I swallow hard as I look down again and he continues, “It wasn’t your fucking fault, you didn’t know the woman was going to go nuts over the fact you were going to hand in your cut for the sake of your unborn baby’s safety, it was her fault!”
“Time!” a guard calls, and Trick huffs as Dad sighs, and I look up as he squeezes my arm and he pleads, “Don’t make me and your mother bury another child, don’t let your sister lose her only sibling and come fucking home to us.”
“You’re missed, brother,” Trick adds as he stands, then reminds me, “You don’t take over as Pres, then I won’t take over as VP!” before he turns and storms away. Dad follows after, looking at me one more time before walking out of the door, and I swallow hard.
I can’t go back to the club, I just fucking can’t, I feel like a liability, especially after digging my own grave these past two years.
Sighing, I slowly stand before heading towards the gate and Scar, the big fucker with a massive scar going across his face that his dad gave him when he was four, deciding that name was better thanEugenewalks beside me and whispers, “The cage?” and I nod and repeat, “The cage,” knowing I need an outlet before I end up adding time to my sentence.
Seeing my family, I struggle every single time. But knowing my sister is hurting? I need to release this anger, and hopefully, when I get released, I can keep myself on the right side of the law.
Chapter 2
Drew – Age Seventeen
I scrunch my nose and grumble with frustration, struggling with this science question. I usually excel in math and every other subject, but science—especially physics—is my weakness, which is hilarious considering I do ballet.
“Come on,” I mutter, “Why can’t they put the physics mathematical questions in layman’s terms?”
I groan and drop my pen before dropping my head back, suddenly glad no one else thought coming to the library was a good idea during study period.
I knew senior year was going to be hard. I knew it was going to kick my butt, but not the first freaking week!
I huff, look back at the sheet, and take a deep breath.
Okay, I’ve got this, I… dammit, I don’t have this, I need help.
Shaking my head, I scan the library's top floor – it's completely empty – I grab my phone and pull up my mom’s number—Dad is good at math, but not at physics.
Scrunching my nose again, I press on her number and put my phone to my ear.
Mom and I are not close. She still puts my little sister first, who still wants everything I have, including the newest one, my room. Mom would have given into it too if Dad hadn’t put his foot down and threatened to divorce her if she continues to treat Elizabeth like she’s made of glass. She’s spoiled and loves that she gets her own way. Mom still hasn’t been to one of my shows, breaking my heart but I know where school is concerned she has my back.
Can’t let the good Christian’s daughter look bad now, can we?
“Hey, darling,” Mom answers after three rings and asks, “Shouldn’t you be in class?” and I huff.
“Mom, how do I solvex=Rcosθ, andy=Rsinθ, whereRis the radius of the circle, andθis in radians?” I exasperate without saying hello or answering her question.
If she looked at my schedule, which I put on the fridge next to my ballet schedule, she’d know I have a study period.
She chuckles softly, “Physics again?”
See, this is why I struggle. Mom is sweet as pie—amazing, just set in her ways and Elizabeth can do no wrong. Mom is never there for me unless it’s about schoolwork and I get it. She nearly lost Elizabeth, but she still has me. I’m still around.
Crap. That anger bubbling up—does it mean I sound bitter? The question stings, and the uncertainty unsettles me.
I shake my head. “Yeah,” I reply, “I’ve spent the past forty minutes of study period stuck on this last question, everything else is good, but…”
She chuckles again as I trail off.
"Okay, darling, tell me the whole question, and let's break it down," she begins.
I grab my pen, keep my phone to my ear, and explain, "A particle moves in a circle; its position is given in polar coordinates asx=Rcosθandy=Rsinθ, whereRis the radius, andθis in radians. From these equations, derive the equation for centripetal acceleration."
