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Michael craned his head back. “You ready to go eat? It’s on me.”
I smiled. “I appreciate it, but you know I can—”
Allison cleared her throat. “Let the man pay, Rae. Sometimes, paying makes them feel powerful. Right?”
Michael smiled brightly. “Right.”
I rolled my eyes and giggled as I got out of the car. The three of us walked into the sandwich shop and I ordered as much food as I could without seeming selfish. A full-size sandwich, since Michael got himself one. A bowl of soup, since Allison got herself one. A dessert, since all of us wanted one, and a large drink. Which I could refill and take with me to work.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
I whipped my head around, staring up into Michael’s face.
“What was that?” I asked.
He grinned down at me. “For standing up to Clint. I’m proud of you. People don’t do that with him, and they should. Someone needs to teach his arrogant ass a lesson one of these days. Maybe they’ll be inspired by how you stand up to him and actually do it.”
Allison slipped between the two of us. “Oh, yeah? And who do you think is going to put the school bully in his place?”
He shrugged. “Anyone, really.”
I sighed. “He’s not worth it, guys. Trust me. Bullies like him feed on the rise he gets out of people. For all we know, he’ll go home and orgasm to it later.”
Allison gasped. “Rae!”
Michael threw his head back, laughing. “She’s got a point.”
And as our food got handed to us, I debated whether or not to save half of my sandwich. After all, it would make a very good breakfast.
If Mom didn’t steal it from the refrigerator first.
6
Clinton
I smashed the buttons. “Come on, you can’t go faster than that? He’s getting away!”
Roy tilted to the side. “You’re the one who decided to modify your car at the last second. I would’ve been fine had you not pulled some shady shit.”
“Shady shit! It’s not shady when I’m making last minute tweaks to my car. The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Well, how about we agree to disagree and smoke the asswipes?”
Our cars raced around the track on the projection screen television. I’d decided to have Roy over instead of going to detention. Playing Forza 4 sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting in some smelly, nasty, stinky room with Rae fucking Cleaver. And we had a good race going, too. I shot up from my chair, walking closer to the projector screen as we came upon our competition.
I pointed. “Go off the track. See that ditch? Fly over it and meet me on the other side.”
Roy snickered. “The fuck? Are you trying to get me thrown—”
“Just do it, dickweed! I’m trying not to cost us our rank in this damn game!”
I kept pressing buttons and fiddling with the modifications I’d made to my car. This damn thing was my pride and joy. I’d been grinding until the early hours of the morning over the summer, winning races and getting enough in-game cash to buy what I wanted to for it. Its speed was unmatched. The engine horsepower was out of this world. The car fucking screamed around the track, smoking these newbies like it was a fish fry.
Then the front door slammed out.
“What the—?”
My eyes peeled away from the screen, and I watched in shock as my father walked through the front doors. He was followed by my stepmother, who looked like her head was about to explode with fury. The horrific sound of my car crashing into a tree caused Roy to groan.
