AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
Despite Carmine’s fierce protectiveness over his belongings, he wasn’t careful about what he did with things. His bedroom was cluttered, everything haphazardly strewn around the floor. Shoes were scattered among heaps of dirty clothes, his hamper sitting empty in the corner of the room. His desk was covered with papers and books, a laptop buried somewhere in the mess.
It never bothered him. He was used to it, nothing about his life neat or tidy. He felt safe tucked into the chaos, surrounded by the things only he controlled. It was that he craved—control over his life—because it was the one thing Carmine never had.
A loud succession of bangs pulled Carmine from his nap, and he staggered to the door to find his father there. Vincent barged into the room, stumbling over some stuff lying on the floor. Grumbling, he kicked it out of the way. “Where are your keys?”
Carmine rubbed his eyes, his guard going up with someone in his personal space. “What?”
“Your car keys,” Vincent said as he started searching through the desk, furiously pushing things around and tossing half of it on the floor.
“What the hell do you want my keys for?”
“Just give them to me!” Vincent opened the top right drawer and grabbed Carmine’s wallet. Fumbling through it, he pulled out the silver American Express credit card and shoved it into his pocket before tossing the wallet aside, going right back to searching.
Carmine’s blood boiled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I tried to be your friend,” Vincent said. “I cut you some slack, hoping it was a phase, but you only got worse. So I sent you away. After what you did last year, so help me God, I hoped you’d get the message. But no, you come back and start the cycle all over again. The fighting, the back talking, the disrespect . . . I can’t take it anymore.”
“What the hell did I do?”
“The better question would be what didn’t you do.” He slammed a drawer and grabbed the bottom one, but it wouldn’t budge. “What’s in here?”
Carmine didn’t answer, watching as his father yanked on it.
“Where’s the key to open it, Carmine?”
“You’re not getting it. You’re not getting any of my keys.”
Vincent stood up straight at his words. “I am getting your keys. You’re on restriction. You’ll go nowhere but to school, and you’ll stay there. No more cutting class. You’ll do your work, you’ll watch your mouth, you’ll keep your hands to yourself, and when that last bell rings, you’ll come straight home. Nothing else!”
“I can’t,” he said. “I have football.”
“You don’t tell me what you can’t do. I tell you!”
Carmine clenched his hands into fists. “So you’re gonna take football from me?”
“You brought this upon yourself.”
Carmine narrowed his eyes as his father moved from the desk to the dresser. “I’m just living the life you gave me!”
“You can’t blame me for this,” Vincent said, opening the top dresser drawer. Carmine groaned as he pulled out his set of keys. “Your brother turned out fine.”
“My brother didn’t go through what I went through! But you know what? I don’t care. Go ahead and take football. You might as well. I’ve lost everything else because of you!”
There was a moment, when those contemptuous words hung in the air between them, that it seemed like time stopped. It was a low blow, and Carmine almost felt guilty when he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes. “You’ll always blame me.”
“You’re damn right I will,” Carmine said. “Give me my keys back.”
“No.”
Every ounce of sensibility Carmine had slipped away when his father turned his back to him. “If you don’t give me my keys, I’ll call the police.”
Vincent turned back around so fast the movement startled Carmine. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“You’d risk everything over a car?”
