Chapter 20
I wake up to the smell of pancakes and syrup. Mom likes warm syrup so she microwaves it and it makes the entire house smell amazing. Breakfast foods always take me back to my childhood when we’d sit together as a family and eat every morning. Mom didn’t work nights back then, so she’d be well rested and still in her pajamas. She loves cats, so most of them were covered in pictures of cats. Dad and I used to go shopping for her birthday and we’d always get her another pair of cat pajamas if we could find them.
I stretch my arms out and yawn as I make my way to the kitchen. It’s Wednesday, and I don’t know how, but I’ve successfully survived three more days of being the front row audience member of TJ hitting on my girl in homeroom. The thought of enduring one more day of this shit—the hand touching, the flirting, the stupid jokes he makes that aren’t even funny—ugh, I don’t know if I can do it.
Yesterday I wore earbuds to drown it out, but I’d have needed a freaking blindfold to avoid all of it. He’s all over her. She seems to like it, too. It blows my mind how she’d fall for a guy like that asshat after dating me. TJ and I couldn’t be more opposite.
And I know we only had one date, so it’s not like wedated, dated. And I know she’s not my girl. But in my heart, she is. At least I want her to be.
I don’t know if she’s read my letter or not. I have to believe that she hasn’t, because I revealed some pretty embarrassing and heartfelt shit in there and I don’t think she’s so cruel as to ignore that.
“I love pancakes,” I say. I give Mom a quick hug to let her know she’s appreciated. She’s wearing her Wal-Mart uniform, not her cat pajamas, and there’s dark circles under her eyes.
“Pancakes are the miracle breakfast food. You know why?” she asks. I hold out my plate and she layers on some pancakes and then hands me a cup filled with warm syrup.
“Why?” I ask.
“They’re cheap as hell,” she says with a snort. She taps the box of pancake mix. “Only two bucks and it lasts a while.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” I set my food on the table and then take out my wallet. I fish for some cash and hold it out to her.
She takes it, turning it over in her hands. “It’s Wednesday. You don’t get paid until Friday.”
“I delivered to some really rich and drunk people last night. They tipped me a hundred dollars.”
“Wow,” she says. “Can you imagine having that kind of money?”
I shake my head. “I even questioned them to make sure they didn’t accidently hand me the hundred instead of like a ten or something. They said nope, that was my tip. I’ve memorized their address so if they order again, I’m going to make sure I do the delivery.”
“Nice,” Mom says, shoving the cash into her pocket. “You’re my little lifesaver, Gavin.”
“I’m taller than you,” I say.
She punches me in the arm. “You know what I mean.”
“What the hell was that?” Dad says. Mom and I both jump. It’s seven in the morning and Dad is never awake this early if he doesn’t have a job.
“Good morning,” Mom says to him in that voice she uses to calm him down. It doesn’t work.
His nostrils flare. “What did you just give her?”
I shrug. “Some extra cash I had.”
“We don’t need your fucking money,” Dad spits out.
“Honey,” Mom says, her voice stern. “Yes, we do. We are desperate for more money and Gavin is just trying to help.”
“What, you think you’re the man of the house now?” Dad walks up to me, getting right in my face. He’s a couple inches shorter than I am, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I still fear him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my hands clench nervously at my side. He’s my dad, not some random drunk. And he terrifies me.
“I’m just helping,” I say, trying not to sound like a wimp.
He snickers. “You’re a kid. This is my house. You’re not the boss.”
“I never said I was,” I say, taking half a step back to get away from the rancid smell of his breath. “I’m just helping Mom.”
“Iwill help your mother,” he says, jabbing a finger into my chest. It hurts but I stand tall and refuse to wince. “Iam the husband and the father andIam the man around here. You’re just a dumb kid, you got that?”
Behind him, Mom pleads at me with her eyes. She doesn’t want me to make this worse. Normally I’d agree with her, but I can’t keep my mouth shut.
