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To him.
Which just so happened to be the same direction my father was now coming from, with a thunderous expression on his face.
Fuck.
CONGRATULATIONS
MAY 15TH 2001
JOEY
The weather was shit, and I wanted to die…
The sky was black, and I was pissed off…
None of it matters because it won’t put food on the table…
Tossingmy English copybook across the room, I gave up on the essay I had been attempting to write.
Glaring at my homework journal like it was the devil incarnate, I bit back the urge to roar.
What the hell was I doing?
Sitting on my bed doing fucking homework, of all things, I glowered at the wall opposite my bed and sighed in defeat.
Who was I trying to fool?
Didn’t matter whether I finished tonight’s essay or not. I wasn’t going to college, I wasn’t going anywhere, and the teachers couldn’t do shit to make me feel worse about that than I already did.
The sound of my stomach growling in hungry protest stirred me from my depressing thoughts, and I stood, knowing that I would have to face him sooner or later.
Besides, I had to be at work in an hour.
Later, Joey.
Later is always better when it comes to him.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled to myself, “you’re going to die young anyway, might as well put an expedited stamp on your forehead.”
Changing out of my school uniform, I threw on my work clothes before stepping into the landing. Ignoring the stench of piss and whiskey, I stalked down the staircase, needing to seem as aloof and unaffected as I could when facing the parentals.
It was my saving grace.
My only way of protecting myself from the prick whose prick I had been conceived from.
If you don’t care, then nothing he does can hurt you.
The minute I stepped off the last step of the staircase, I could hear them arguing in the kitchen.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t the hot topic of disappointment.
Today, it was Shannon’s turn.
“She’s not going, Marie,” my father barked, balling up a bunch of papers and tossing them across the table at Mam. “It’s out of the question.”
“But she’s so quiet, Teddy,” Mam attempted to coax. “So shy. She’ll never manage it. She’s already struggling to cope with primary school.”
“She’ll have to get over it,” Dad replied, not batting an eye. “She’s no better than the rest of them. I won’t have her sent to private school when the boys are in public.”
