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Right when her mouth was wide enough, I stuffed my dried-up broccoli that smelled like rotten eggs in it, and she went crazy. Moving her body every way she could, which wasn’t much, because she was a pee wee girl and I was still sitting on top of her.
She was about to spit them out, but I covered her mouth so she couldn’t.
“Swallow, you butt munch.”
She screamed through my hand.
“I put those little green trees on my nuts, Harley, since you love kicking them so much. How do they feel in your mouth?”
Her eyes widened. I didn’t really do that, but she didn’t have to know I was lying.
“Jackson, are you listening to me?”
“Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, looking out the window with my ear buds in.
“Jackson...”
“Yes, I have it.”
“The good letter?”
“Maybe.”
“Jackson Pierce,” she said in a sterner tone. The one that meant I was walking a thin line of patience with her.
It didn’t matter. I was already grounded again. Because of her.
“Well you made me rewrite it ten times. I’m not sure which is the good letter anymore.”
“Jackson, watch your tone with your mother,” Dad warned, looking at me through the same mirror.
Adults could always have a tone, but when I had one…
I got in trouble, always.
I didn’t reply.
I knew better.
My dad was cool, but I knew what lines I couldn’t cross with him. And disrespecting my mom was number one on that list. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were awesome, especially my dad. He was way better than Harley’s dad, and I reminded her of that all the time.
He was Doctor Aiden Pierce, Chief of Surgery at Dosher Memorial Hospital in Southport. He saved lives every single day, while hers used to put them to ground. That was biker slang for shooting bitches in the face. Her dad was badass, I’ll give her that, but he wasn’t better than mine.
No one’s was.
“I’d like to see the apology letter before you hand it to Harley,” Mom stated, bringing my eyes back to her.
“I still don’t understand why I had to write her a letter. She kicked me in the nuts, remember?”
“She only kicked you because you provoked her,” Jagger added. Making me roll my eyes at my younger brother, who was sitting in the backseat next to me.
“Whose side are you on?” I punched him.
He punched me back.
“Boys! Don’t start!” Mom shouted at us. “I will turn this car around and take you both home so fast. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we grumbled.
