AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She nods somberly.
I hate talking about this shit, but that’s why we’re here, for us to share and connect. Something my parents never attempted to do.
“In the schools I went to in Southside, you got the crap beat out of you if you showed emotion or acted interested in school or things like reading.”
“I understand.” She blinks up at me, and her lip wobbles.
“I just want you to know where I came from and how it has affected me.”
“Okay.” She pins her trembling lip between her teeth.
“What I mean is, I know exactly what it’s like feeling like you don’t belong anywhere.” I give it to her raw and real. “The only place I felt right before I met your mom was fronting Tempest. I don’t want that to be the case for you. I want you to feel like you belong inside our home, not just sometimes, but all the time. I can’t fix school.”
If I could, I would pummel anyone who even looked at her wrong.
“But a word of advice—it’ll be easier at school if you try a little harder to blend in, or at least not to stand out so much.”
“I can do that.” She squares her shoulders.
“Good.” I nod approvingly. “Being different at school means you get your ass kicked.”
That is a universal truth for kids throughout the ages. In Southside, I made certain I was one of the ones doing the kicking. But I don’t want Peace to be like me. I want her to be better.
“I get that books are your friends, but maybe if you set them aside while you’re at school, you’ll find a real friend that’ll have your back, yeah?”
“Okay.” She lifts her chin. “I’ll try harder at home too.”
“You shouldn’t have to try at home, baby.” I set down the stack of books and pull her into my arms. “You’re my daughter, mine and your mom’s. If you don’t feel like you belong, that’s our fault, not yours.”
I tip up her chin and swipe the spilled emotion from her eyes.
Peace is overly sensitive and a people pleaser. I need to toughen her up or the world will do it the hard way.
But I set that aside. Tough training is for another day. Today, I just need to affirm her.
“I love you, Peace. I’m grateful for every day to have you, your sister, and your mom. You know that, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She bobs her head. “I know.”
There’s not enough certainty in her eyes. But I will get her certain. It’s a priority, a more important goal than beating Brutal Strength for the title of best rock band.
But it’s a goal that I’m less confident about achieving.
Peace
“Put that back.” I mimic my fifth-grade teacher and aim my stern gaze at the empty guitar stand.
“No,” Bo says. “You’re not the boss of me, Peace Jinkins.”
“My dad told us never to touch any instruments.” I soften my tone, for more reasons than one.
We’re in the lounge outside the studio. My dad and his are working inside it with the rest of the guys in the band. They could come out at any moment. I don’t want to get into trouble.
“Well, your dad isn’t my dad, and this ismydad’s Les Paul.”
Bo resumes strumming the unplugged electric guitar. His messy brown hair slides forward, shadowing his gray-green eyes.
I love his eyes. I could stare at them for hours. The color reminds me of the steely clouds that roll over Lake Washington whenever there is a storm.
